Page 46 of Everything Changes

“I’m sorry,” Carey said. “My brain-to-mouth filter is usually better than that.” She continued to gape at him until her face gradually softened. She leaned back against the couch, her arms crossed over her chest.

“So,” she said. “You’ve got the hots for your buddy, huh?”

“Oh yeah, big time,” Carey said a little more fervently than he’d intended. She snorted as he felt his face flush.

“Now this I gotta hear. Let’s grab some beers, and I want to hear all about it.”

Carey thought about putting her off somehow, but then he thought, what the hell. Maybe it would help to hear someone else’s take on the situation. He got up and grabbed a couple of beers, popping the tops off of each and handing her one. He took a few large swallows, then licked his lips, noticing Jodi watching his mouth with a faintly regretful expression on her face. He felt shame go through him, and he touched her arm gently.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have led you on.”

She smiled sadly. “You didn’t. You’ve been a perfect gentleman from day one. It’s my fault if I developed some foolish hopes.”

“I didn’t do anything to discourage them,” Carey said. “And I did it on purpose.”

“To prove to yourself that you aren’t gay?” She watched him carefully as she sipped her beer.

“I’m not gay,” he argued. “I’m just—”

“A person in love with your best friend?” she said gently.

Carey closed his eyes. “Yes. I think I am.”

“Who happens to be a man?”

“Yes,” he sighed.

“Tell me about him,” she encouraged, so Carey did.

He told her about meeting Jase, their time in Afghanistan, his injury and the aftermath, the years that followed. And he told her about his week in San Diego, when his and Jase’s relationship had taken that sharp turn. He didn’t hold anything back. What was the point? And he was finding that it was cathartic to talk about it.

When he’d finished, Jodi got up and went to the kitchen, getting them fresh beers. They both drank, and then Jodi said, “So why aren’t you with him right now?”

“Because—” And he couldn’t think of a single reason.

“Does it bother you that you have these feelings for another man?” she asked.

“A few weeks ago I would have said no, that I was more open-minded than that,” Carey admitted. “But now I’m starting to see that is a lot of it.”

“Explain,” she ordered, softening that with a smile.

“Because.” Carey floundered. “Because I met you, and you’re everything I’ve always wanted in a—”

“In a woman?” she said perceptively. He nodded miserably.

“But you already had all of that with Jase.” Her voice was gentle. “Everything you’ve ever wanted, you already had. But you had it with a man.”

“Yes,” he mumbled.

“You and I could have that too,” she said suddenly. His gaze snapped to her. Was there going to be a scene after all? “We could have that,” she continued, “after four years of friendship, some life-altering experiences, emotions that have grown from loyalty and trust and many trials by fire.”

He stared at her, thunderstruck.

“Carey, I think there’s potential here”—she waved her hand back and forth between the two of them—“the potential for a very deep friendship I’m positive one day could turn to more. But why wait years for that when you already have it on a much deeper level than we could ever achieve? Because you and I will never be you and Jase. You seem to have something with him that is deep and real and lasting. We could achieve a weak imitation of that someday, sure. And we might even be very happy.”

Carey swallowed, a burn starting in the back of his eyes.

“You would deny yourself a chance for happiness with the love of your life because somehow a weak imitation with me would be okay since I’m a woman?”