“He looks good on you.”
Jake turned. Evan Harbuck slid onto the stool next to him, a vodka soda in hand. He was wearing a deep V-neck sweater that showed off the ink on his chest—comedy and tragedy masks peeking out.
“Excuse me?” Jake asked.
“Wes,” Evan said, nodding toward the dartboard where Wes was now pulling his darts. “He used to come in here, drink bourbon, stare at the floor, and leave. Now? He’s winning tournaments and closing the place down. That’s theJake Effect, handsome.”
Jake took a sip of his beer to hide his grin. “I think the threat of impending bankruptcy helped loosen him up a bit, too.”
“Maybe. But fear usually makes men smaller. Wes is getting bigger. Taking up space.” Evan swirled his straw. “It suits him.”
The jukebox clicked. Cal had fed it another quarter.
The opening notes of Dave Matthews Band’sCrash Into Medrifted across the tavern—slow, sultry, aching with want.
Jake looked up sharply. Cal was back at his usual spot near the bar, nursing his beer, eyes forward, innocent as could be.
“Goddamn, he’s good,” Evan muttered, shaking his head. “Scary good.”
“Does he always do that?”
“Last year, Tucker and I had a huge fight about my considering an audition in Atlanta. Cal played ‘I Will Always Love You.’ The Whitney version. I ugly-cried into my nachos.”
Jake chuckled. “What happened?”
“I didn’t try out. And the show? It tanked. Closed in less than a week.”
“Wow.”
“It would have meant a month away frommyleading man…for nothing.” Evan’s expression softened. “Sometimes, the life you’re supposed to have isn’t the one you planned, Jake. Sometimes it’s better.”
Jake watched Wes laughing with Miguel. The scene was idyllic. Small-town, good people, Christmas lights blinking above the bar. It should have felt perfect.
“I worry about what happens when the dust settles,” Jake admitted, surprised by his own candor. “If I have to go back.”
Evan turned fully to him. “Do you? Have to go back?”
“I’m a senior loan officer, Ev. My life is in Atlanta—my apartment, my clients, my terrifying boss. I’ve been working for ten years to get a corner office.” He gestured helplessly at the tavern, at Wes. “I can’t run a regional division from Barb’s breakfast table.”
Evan hummed, looking over the rim of his glass. “I was on my way to Atlanta when I met Tucker. My friend, Tyke, has close connections to the Alliance Theatre there. He was arranging for me to become a company member.”
Jake looked at him. He knew Evan ran Spoon’s Black Sheep Community Theatre,but he hadn’t realized the pedigree. “You gave up a serious career,” he said.
“I traded it.” Evan glanced toward the opposite end of the bar. Tucker was there, shaking a cocktail shaker with unnecessary vigor, arguing loudly with Cal about whetherDie Hardwas a Christmas movie. Tucker looked up, caught Evan’s eye, and winked.
A flush spread across Evan’s cheeks, soft and instant.
“See that?” Evan asked. “The Alliance couldn’t give me that. A TV pilot couldn’t give me that.”
“But the ambition,” Jake pressed, needing to understand. “The drive. Where does it go?”
“It didn’tgoanywhere. The dream just got... an edit.” Evan tapped his temple. “I realized I could be a lonely, successful actor in Atlanta, waiting for the phone to ring. Or I could be the lead in my own life right here. It wasn’t a sacrifice, Jake. It was an upgrade.”
Jake looked back at Wes. Wes was laughing, listening to Miguel tell a story.
An upgrade.
The thought settled in Jake’s chest, terrifying and thrilling. He thought about his condo in Midtown—pristine, modern, and utterly empty. He thought about the silence of his life before he drove past the Spoon city limits sign.
