a totally clean slate.” He smiled at Charlie, tears still brimming in his eyes. “And I can’t wait to do that. Does that sound stupid?”
Charlie squeezed Taylor’s skinny shoulder. “Not a bit. That’s a healthy way to look at it.”
Taylor wiped his eyes, and they all turned to listen to the music for a bit—Journey’s “Don’t Stop Believing,” which seemed to be a crowd favorite. Everybody in the place sang along, some of them standing on the benches. Charlie was right—the energy was electric, everybody happy and smiling and laughing.
“This really is fun,” Jonas said to Charlie.
“I knew you’d like it.”
The song ended, and Avery stood up from his piano, closing the keyboard. The show was apparently over. Avery left the stage as River returned with a round of beers for everybody. Charlie raised his eyebrows at Jonas, leaning across the table to be heard.
“We can leave, if you want.”
Taylor answered before Jonas did. “No! Are you kidding?” He turned to Jonas. “Stay and meet Avery. Finish your beer.”
Jonas kept his eyes on Charlie. “What do you think?”
What he meant was, “Do you think Avery will know who I am?”
“It’ll be fine,” Charlie said, squeezing his hand. “Jay.”
Jonas took that to mean Avery might recognize his real name, but not his face. He hoped that was the case.
It took Avery nearly ten minutes to reach their table. Everybody wanted to talk to him or hug him as he went by, but he finally found them.
“Hey, guys. Hey, Charlie. I haven’t seen you in forever. Where’ve you been?” He wedged onto the bench, leaving Charlie sandwiched between him and Taylor. That also put him directly across from Jonas. He smiled at Jonas, no hint of recognition in his eyes. “Hey. I don’t think we’ve met, but I lose track.”
Jonas introduced himself as Jay, then sat back to watch the interaction. It was easy to fall into the background while they all talked.
Avery was bubbly and infectiously happy as he congratulated Taylor on his new job and harassed Charlie about being gone so long and talked about Gray’s ongoing job search. Jonas tried to imagine him with Gray. Was he this outgoing when his husband was around? It was hard to picture them together, yet not competing with one another to be the center of attention. Avery wasn’t as drop-dead gorgeous as Gray, but he was definitely attractive, and his energy was amazing. Jonas didn’t believe in auras, but he imagined if they existed, Avery’s would be bright as the sun.
“They must be unbearable together,” Jonas said later as Charlie drove him home. “I don’t mean annoying. Just…” He held up his hands, searching for an explanation. “They’re both so intense. I try to picture them together, and I imagine them amplifying each other. Like, blowing up the room and drowning out everybody else.”
Charlie nodded, tugging his beard with one hand while steering with the other. “I can see why you’d think that, but it’s the opposite, really. They actually seem to settle each other down. It’s like they anchor each other.” He shook his head. “It’s hard to explain, but it works.” He chuckled, bemused. “They definitely prove that beautiful people always find each other.”
Jonas smacked his arm. “Well, look at us. We prove that too.” Charlie laughed, and Jonas sat back to watch Denver move past them, smiling to himself. “What about Taylor and Warren? What do they prove?”
“That heroes can always find somebody who needs to be saved.”
“River and Phil?”
“Even the toughest nuts can be cracked. Not with force, though. With patience.”
Jonas settled against the seat, eyeing Charlie. He’d always been the one with the insight. The one ready to offer counsel. The one without hang-ups or complaints or complication. With Charlie, what one saw was what one got—kindness and wisdom and love.
“People who are sick of all the games can find each other too,” Jonas said. “That’s what we prove.”
Charlie reached out and took his hand. “Are you hungry? Want to stop somewhere for dinner?”
“I’d rather go home and get naked.”
Charlie grinned over at him. “I love the way you think.”
Chapter 12
Once home, Jonas headed straight for the shower. The master bath had only a square shower stall, and it quickly filled with steam. Outside was cold and dry and bitter, but here, there was only warmth. Just standing in the hot water felt good. He let it wash over him, imagining all his nervousness and anxiety about the testing and the upcoming surgery and about finally meeting