Everything Changes

  Everything Changes

  Melanie Hansen

  EVERYTHING CHANGES

  Copyright © 2020 by Melanie Hansen

  All rights reserved.

  No parts of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the copyright owner, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, write to the author at this website:

  www.melaniehansenbooks.com

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, businesses, companies, locales, events and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons, living or dead, is unintentional and co-incidental. The author does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.

  Cover Art: Natasha Snow Designs

  Contents

  About The Book

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Also by Melanie Hansen

  About the Author

  About The Book

  Two battle buddies. One fateful deployment. Two vastly different sets of wounds. One friendship changed forever.

  A childhood in foster care taught Carey Everett to hold tight to what he has. Enlisting in the Marines gave him purpose, but a life-threatening injury ended his career—and took his leg. Now fully recovered, Carey’s happier than he’s ever been. He has a fulfilling job, a chosen family and, best of all, a cherished friendship with Jase DeSantis, the platoon medic who saved his life.

  Despite Jase’s heroism in combat, he’s haunted by his actions overseas. Playing music with his band keeps the demons at bay, but it’s a battle he’s starting to lose.

  After a week of sun and fun in San Diego, Jase and Carey’s connection takes an unexpected turn. With change comes a new set of challenges. For Jase, it means letting someone else into his deepest pain. For Carey, it’s realizing love doesn’t always equal loss. In order to make their relationship work, they’ll have to come to terms with their pasts…

  …or risk walking away from each other for good.

  One

  Carey Everett felt the music before he heard it.

  The deep bass rhythm of the drum kit reverberated up his body and into his chest, a long, slow thump that made his heart beat in time. As he pushed open the door to the club, the whine of the guitars washed over him, along with the noise of the crowd. Colored strobe lights raked the room, illuminating the fine mist that curled and danced along the ceiling.

  Riveted, Carey hovered right inside the entrance, his gaze locked on the man in the middle of it all. That man stood on an elevated stage, eyes closed, hands lifted above his head to clap to the beat. His tight black T-shirt rode up with the movements of his arms, the skintight leather pants he wore showcasing his long legs and slim hips.

  Yanking the microphone from its stand, the man raised it to his mouth. He tipped his head back and started to sing, a rough huskiness to his voice that wrapped itself around Carey’s senses and pebbled his skin. All around him, people swayed and cheered as the song built to a crescendo, the poignant words dying away a split second before deafening whistles and whoops erupted.

  The singer grinned and pointed at his bandmates so they could share in the applause, and when the lights dimmed, he flashed a hang loose sign at his audience and disappeared backstage.

  Carey took a deep breath, an exhilarating mixture of awe and pride settling in his chest. He picked his way through the crowd, the cacophony of excited voices assaulting him from all sides. After wedging himself up to the bar, he leaned against it, shifting his weight to his right leg to take the pressure off the left and its dull, ever-present ache.

  Shit. Maybe driving eight hundred miles straight through hadn’t been the best of ideas.

  As he mulled over ordering a beer, a cute blonde wearing a tank top emblazoned with the name of the club appeared in front of him. She grinned, a dimple peeking out.

  “Are you Carey?” she shouted over the noise. When he nodded, she leaned closer so he could hear her better. “Jase said to come on backstage now. I’ll show you where to go.”

  “Awesome, thanks.”

  Backstage was blessedly quiet. Carey slipped into a nearby bathroom and splashed his face with water, the bracing coolness refreshing his tired eyes. He raked damp fingers through his hair and puffed out his cheeks on a long exhale before grimacing at his reflection.

  Yeah, he looked as exhausted as he felt.

  Scrubbing a hand resignedly over his scruffy jaw, Carey headed to find Jase, his friend, the singer who’d just mesmerized the packed audience at the club.

  A few frustratingly wrong turns later, he finally stood in the doorway of a large room full of chattering people. More music played in the background, and a table covered with food sat off to the side, along with tubs full of ice and bottles of water and beer.

  Anticipation hollowing out his stomach, Carey scanned the crowd. The band members, outnumbered by their fans, were milling around, drinking, eating, and laughing. Carey maneuvered around the clusters of people, craning his neck, the ache in his leg suddenly forgotten as he caught sight of Jase leaning against a nearby wall.

  Carey froze, his heart skipping a beat. For five years now, Jase DeSantis—“No relation to that Florida asshole, okay?”—had played a starring role in some of the best—and worst—memories of Carey’s life.

  Now, Jase’s hazel eyes glittered with adrenaline, his light-brown hair spiky with sweat. He was talking animatedly with the group surrounding him, one arm slung casually around the shoulders of an attractive blond man who gazed up at him with what looked a lot like adoration.

  Carey paused. Was the guy just a groupie, or something more?

  The low buzz of anticipation in his blood exploded into excitement when Jase glanced in his direction, then immediately dropped his arm from around the guy and charged over to grab him up in a huge, rib-crushing hug.

  “Fuck yeah! You made it!” Jase exclaimed. “When did you get here?”

  Laughing, Carey returned the hug, the familiar Jase tang of leather and clean sweat filling his nose. “Right before the encore. You didn’t see me out there?”

  “I thought I did.” Jase set him gently on his feet, his hands lingering for a split second on Carey’s waist before dropping away. “I asked Lacey to keep an eye out for you.” He winked. “Told her to find the best-looking guy in the club.”

  Carey’s face heated. “Okay, sure,” he said with a roll of his eyes. “Best-looking. Right.”

  Throwing him a reproving look, Jase elbowed him lightly. “Well, she found you, didn’t she? I stand by my description.”

  They gazed at each other, Jase’s eyes warm. “God, I’ve missed you. I’m so glad you’re here.”

  An answering warmth quirked Carey’s lips up into a smile. “Hey, I loved what I saw of the show.”

  “Yeah?” Jase leaned closer. “I think some record label execs might be here tonight.” He grimaced. “I’m probably gonna have to do a little grip-and-grin before we can get
out of here.”

  Carey snorted at Jase’s use of an old military term that meant mandatory socializing. “No worries. I’m still tired from the drive, so I’ll just head back to your place if I need to.”

  “You can stay through next weekend, right? Your boss gave you that much time off?”

  “Yep. We’re hitting the fundraising circuit hard when I get back, though, so I gotta make good use of this downtime.” He punched Jase lightly on the shoulder. “Beach, drinking, and of course, good music.”

  When Jase pulled him into another hug, Carey squeezed him tight. Jase was the closest thing he had to family, and being with him was like coming home, no matter where they each happened to be living.

  Suddenly the blond man appeared at their side. “Babe?”

  A faint look of impatience drifted across Jase’s face, although he aimed a smile at the guy. “Gotta work the room, Todd.”

  “Okay.” Todd drifted his fingertips lightly over Jase’s chest. “Find me later?”

  “Always do.” With a wink, Jase turned to Carey. “Hey, Layla and Quinn are over there. Why don’t you go say hi, and I’ll get away from the crowd as soon as I can.”

  Jase loped off, leaving Todd and Carey staring awkwardly at each other.

  “So, uh, how do you know Jase?” Todd finally asked.

  “We were in Afghanistan together. My name’s Carey, by the way.”

  Ignoring that, Todd moved over to the snack table and popped a pretzel in his mouth. “Yeah, that’s right. Jase told me he used to be a medic in the Navy. What’d you do there?”

  Carey fished a beer out of a nearby tub. “I was actually a Marine, but Jase was in my unit.” Todd looked confused, so Carey continued. “See, Marines train for combat, not medicine, and the Marines are actually part of the Department of the Navy. The Navy already trains medics, so it makes sense if they just assign one of them to us.”

  “Whatever.” Todd had already lost interest, and he craned his neck around, obviously looking for Jase. Shrugging, Carey turned away, and then Todd spoke again.

  “I think Jase and I are getting serious, just so you know. He said I can come to all his shows, and he gave me a backstage pass.”

  “Good for you,” Carey muttered, wondering why the guy was telling him all this. It wasn’t like they were in competition or anything, although he suddenly hoped he wouldn’t be spending his vacation as a third wheel.

  Todd had just drawn breath to say something else when Carey heard his name being called.

  “Oh, my God, it is you! Jase said you’d be here tonight! Yay!”

  He set his beer on the table and whirled just in time to catch the redhead who flung herself at him.

  “Long time no see.” Carey grinned at Layla, who was married to Quinn Barranco, Jase’s drummer. She was also the group’s manager, and Carey liked her a lot. Petite, with a mass of red curls, she wore a shimmery gold metallic tank top and tight black jeans. Even with stiletto sandals, she barely reached Carey’s shoulder.

  “Come sit with us, sweetie,” she urged. “Let’s catch up.”

  Turning his back on Todd, he followed her over to where Quinn slouched on a leather sofa, phone to his ear. He nodded at Carey and smirked at his wife.

  “God, it seems like forever since we saw you last.” Layla leaned against Quinn’s shoulder. “Whatcha been up to?”

  Trying to hide his wince, Carey lowered himself into a nearby chair and stretched out his legs. “Work, work, and more work. What else is new?”

  She wrinkled her nose. “You, my dear, work way too hard.”

  “Yeah, well…” Carey shrugged. “Seems like you’re pretty busy yourselves.” He glanced at Quinn, who’d set down his phone. “That’s so awesome about the long-term gig. You had a really good crowd out there.”

  “Thanks, man,” Quinn said. He nudged Layla’s thigh with his elbow. “Or, actually, thanks to this little bulldog. I think the club manager just agreed so that she’d go away and stop bothering him.”

  Layla shot Carey an impish smile. “It helps that I don’t take no for an answer.” Then she squealed as Quinn abruptly pulled her down into his lap and growled something in her ear.

  Carey watched them fondly. All the guys in Jase’s band were former military. Brought together by their desire to help the community they loved, they’d allotted a portion of any royalties they earned to help the families of the fallen.

  Quinn himself had been a Tier-One operator, a member of the Unit, or Delta Force. Yet Carey had never met a humbler man. Tattooed, muscular, and an all-around badass? Fuck yeah. But at the same time, he exuded a quiet confidence that hinted at the true leader he was.

  Carey’s gaze drifted over to Pete Dorman, the lead guitarist. He’d played in a Grammy-winning grunge band in the ‘90s before abruptly quitting to join the Army, eventually working his way up into the elite 75th Ranger Regiment. Now retired, he’d come back to his roots, his knowledge and expertise about the industry priceless.

  The bassist, Rusty Stahler, had been a Marine, like Carey. “Good to see you, jarhead,” he said now, clapping Carey on the shoulder as he strolled past, the smell of the pizza on his plate making Carey’s stomach rumble.

  Realizing how long it’d been since he’d eaten anything, Carey pushed to his feet, only to stagger as the head rush from hell caught him off guard. He steadied himself on the back of the chair he’d been sitting in, embarrassment heating his face.

  “Whoa. You okay, dude?” Quinn asked with concern as he lifted Layla off his lap and half-rose, one arm outstretched.

  Immediately, Carey waved him off. “I’m fine. Please don’t worry,” he added when he saw Layla’s frown. “I just need to grab something to eat. It’s been hours, and I’m feeling the beer.”

  At the refreshment table, Carey filled a small plate with cheese and crackers, and some fruit, before snagging a bottle of water to wash it down with. When he retook his seat, he noticed Layla still watching him with a furrowed brow.

  “I’m fine,” Carey said gently.

  “But you were limping.” She bit her lip and dropped her eyes to Carey’s left leg, which he’d stretched out in front of him. “Does it—does it hurt?”

  Carey rubbed his thigh and tried not to grimace. “I’m a little stiff from eighteen hours of driving, that’s all. It’s really not a big deal.”

  After a brief hesitation, she moved over to sit in the chair next to him. “It’s amazing. Looking at you, no one would ever know that you don’t have a leg.”

  Carey, used to her bluntness, smiled. “I have both legs, Red. One just happens to be made of carbon fiber and titanium.” Then he pulled up his pant leg to show her the metal ankle above his athletic shoe.

  “You’re sure it doesn’t hurt? I can have Quinn drive you back over to Jase’s—”

  “I’m sure,” he said firmly. “Now go work your magic with the label execs and let me finish my snack while I wait for Jase.”

  “But—”

  “Aw, c’mon, honey.” Quinn drew her to her feet, then steered her away with his arm around her waist. “He’s a grown man and has been taking care of himself for a long time. He don’t need a mama.”

  Carey watched them go, warmed by Layla’s concern. He hadn’t had a whole lot of that in his life, not until he’d met Jase and was drawn into his circle of friends.

  Jase.

  Carey wouldn’t be where he was today if it weren’t for him. Hell, he wouldn’t even be alive today. He’d be just another statistic on the battlefields of Afghanistan, another shattered body sent home on a military transport in a coffin draped with a flag.

  He sighed, then glanced at his watch, wondering where Jase was. After a brief debate with himself about going to find him, Carey decided not to. He knew he was here, and he’d be back when he could.

  Carey grabbed another bottle of water and settled down to wait.

  Two

  Jase groaned, his hands buried in Todd’s thick blond hair. “Gonna come, T,” he
panted.

  Todd redoubled his efforts, his head bobbing faster, his fingers digging into the bunched muscles of Jase’s thighs.

  “Christ,” Jase moaned, before collapsing against the wall, the orgasm releasing the tension and adrenaline that always flooded him during and after a concert. Todd looked up at him worshipfully from his position on his knees, his mouth reddened and swollen.

  After pulling off the full condom, Jase lifted him to his feet, barely able to keep from grimacing when Todd flung himself into his arms.

  “It was good, wasn’t it?”

  Jase hugged him briefly. “Yeah, it was good.” It was true enough, and it had served its purpose. Putting his arm around Todd’s waist, he steered him toward the dressing room door, suddenly eager to have him gone.

  “I have my friend here tonight, and I haven’t seen him in a while,” he said, opening the door and subtly pushing Todd through it. “I’m gonna finish changing and go spend a little time with him.”

  “Okay. I’ll see you tomorrow night, then.” Todd stood on his toes and lifted his mouth for a kiss, but Jase pretended not to see it and swung the door shut, an all-too-familiar emptiness hollowing out his chest.

  “You’re a user,” his conscience whispered. “This guy thinks he means something to you.”

  Well, I haven’t promised him a goddamn thing, have I?

  Firmly shoving Todd—and his own self-loathing—from his mind, Jase stalked to the small sink off the dressing room and splashed his face with water. He really needed to get back out there, but the last thing he wanted was for Carey to see him with the obvious sex flush on his cheeks.