AN: Again, thanks for the positive reviews. They brighten up my days. And to my new followers: welcome and thank you too. I hope this new chapter will make you as happy as your support makes me!

Disclaimer: It's been a whole week since I told you they're not mine. Don't tell me you've forgotten already? On with the story, I say...

Wade himself has been busy too. To everyone's surprise, he struck a deal with Lemon of all people and bought the Rammer Jammer, with him in charge and her as a silent partner. At first sight, the place hasn't changed all that much, at least not in appearance. But slowly and steadily, Wade places his own mark on his beloved bar. The simple menu gets a rigorous update, he introduces some pretty incredible cocktails and every Friday evening now the Rammer Jammer hosts an open mike night, which gradually gathers a growing crowd of both audience and participants, especially when the boss himself picks up his guitar.

The songs he chooses are soft country songs with lyrics full of pain and longing. It's the only time he allows himself to express his sincere regret through words. Not his own words, because his own never amounted to much.

Zoe's there for a few sessions like this and not only does she feel fiercely proud of him, she has to admit, also feels her love grow again, choking the last vestiges of her resentment and doubt in its wake. She quits the dating ABC then and there.

Much unlike her; Wade hasn't had a date since their break-up. He's courteous with women, still knows how to throw in the charm, still gets his sweet deal of offerings and phone numbers written on napkins and slipped in either shirt of jeans pocket (for the daring ones), but when it comes to taking them home, he just…doesn't. Doesn't really feel like it, suddenly very aware of the porch lights on the other side of the pond.

To Zoe, he's sincerely trying to be the friend he promised her he would be. It's almost exactly the same as the days before they started their casual monogamous…whatever (seems so long ago now, when life was still easy), perhaps only without the sexual innuendo. It's not like he doesn't want her (there's no cure for the constant ache for her in his every pore), it's just that he's not willing to jeopardize this so carefully blooming, real thing they have.

The pride he sees in her eyes whenever she walks into his place (his bar, his dream come true!) and the anticipation he feels every time he presents her with another concoction to try is worth more than the risk of losing her by moving too fast now.

He even keeps his promise of keeping his distance whenever she comes in with a man in tow, dressed in something pretty and being all laughs and smiles. He's learned, even practiced, to keep his face straight, so he doesn't show his relief when yet another potential love interest is dismissed. Though he wonders why none of them make it to round two. Carl was a douche and he's already got a sweet deal with another security company, but that Adam guy wasn't too bad…

Could it be she's not interested because…hope flares. He lets it, but still doesn't make a move. He might still be wrong.

Sometimes, after a long day, when he's alone in his bed, the doubt creeps in. This whole friendship thing is grating on his nerves. Despite of the fact he likes the man he's turning into, despite the fact he now calls his brother at least twice a month and they have plans to go fishing together soon, he's lonely. And it's not the kind of loneliness that a quick romp in the hay with a random willing body can cure. He still knows who he needs and clings to the shimmer of hope she gave him upon her homecoming day.

He merely wonders if he won't go bat shit crazy before she deems him worthy of her attention again. Attention of the none-friendly kind. Her friendship is a good thing, but can't quench his thirst for more.

Halloween comes along. He's done quickly with his costume this year. Bob the builder it is. Zoe's very secretive about her costume, no matter how much he whines, pleads and bribes her. Lavon and AB don't get anything out of her either. Lavon just moping that she told him he 'wouldn't get it anyway'.

Interestinger and interestinger…

Finally, after much coaxing, she comes out of the bedroom to accompany Wade, Lavon and AB to the celebration at the town square.

She's wearing an old-fashioned yellow dress, a yellow raincoat, yellow pumps and an umbrella. A bag is slung over her shoulder. Her eyes meet Wade's and suddenly he remembers their conversation the year before. He wolf whistles and laughs.

"So you are really okay with this?"

"With you being the Morton Salt girl's sexy older sister? Hell yeah!"

"You don't look so bad yourself either."

"Walked around like this all summer."

Perhaps it's wishful thinking on his part, but he's sure the once-over she's giving him is one of appreciation. And not for his building skills either. He'll need a gallon of beer to cool himself down.

Neither one notices the look that's exchanged between their friends.

A few hours later, the party's in full swing. Though he's off work for tonight, Wade can't help getting himself involved in mixing some real nasty looking but incredible tasting drinks for the occasion. While trying to imitate Tom Cruise in Cocktail (and glad they're using paper cups for this open air party), he knows he has attracted the attention of a couple of pretty twenty something year old girls from one town over. They're flirting and giggling like mad and for the first time since his self-chosen celibacy, his determination wavers and he's seconds away from pouncing upon his prey. It's been a while, but he's certain the outcome will be satisfactory.

The redhead really is pretty. Nice legs, nice rack and clearly in for a party of two, far away from the party of two hundred. He knows he doesn't even have to play his full set of cards to get her to come home with him and do whatever he wants. Perhaps…just this once…he's not a monk after all, he's a healthy man, he has his needs…

A wink, a roguish smile and bingo! She detaches herself from her gaggle of friends and confidently strides over to him, hips swaying enticingly.

But then his gaze lands on a tiny brunette dressed in yellow and his mind's made up. He gives the redhead a drink (on him) and another smile, but pulls his arm back the moments she's about to write her phone number on it with a lurid red lipstick.

He can't. Can't cheat on her, even if they're technically not even dating. It's not fair to his heart. Or Zoe's, if she even still cares. Or the redhead's, who might be into it now, but might regret it in the morning once she finds out how jaded and tired he really is. In fact, he might not even be able to perform at all. No, best to let it go and go back to just watching the fluid movements of his neighbor. His friend.

Damn it all.

Zoe sees yet another girl walking away from Wade with a huff, whispering something to her friends about how this guy is all pretence and no game.

She does wonder about it. What's he waiting for? Her approval? Her permission? Why would he feel he needs it? They're friends, she wants him to be happy, doesn't want to stand in his way if he wants female company, like she expected he would at some point. She can do the gracious things and take a step back. Like he did whenever she tried to date.

Tried and failed. Just like him.

What are they doing, really?

She can't help herself and looks over to where he's now standing alone behind the makeshift bar in the middle of the square. Her eyes meet his.

There's a look in his that takes her aback, mainly because he can't conceal it fast enough while she knows she wasn't supposed to see it at all.

It's raw, raw and real and it lasts for all of a second, before he realizes she's caught him in the act of…of what? He looks away, suddenly uncomfortable and looking for a way out.

At least that's not so hard. He simply drops the mixing cup he's been holding and strides over to his car, ignoring the clicks of her high heels following him.

His hands are anything but steady as he fumbles with the keys, dropping them twice before he calms down enough to actually pick the right key and put it in the lock of his ancient beloved muscle car. By that time of course, Zoe's caught up with him and he feels a tentative small hand on his arm.

With an almost rude, desperate gesture, he shrugs it off. He needs to escape. Now.

"Wade…"

It takes all his willpower not to look around at her.

"Zoe…just…just don't. Please. Let me go."

Her hands drops from his arm, hanging idly beside her. He can hear her panting, hear the tears hitched in her breath. Ignores it. His own erratic breathing is worrying him enough.

Without looking at her, he gets in his car, starts it and drives off at full speed, leaving her standing there, surrounded by the cloud of dust from the sand being swept up by his tires.

Maybe it was wrong to avoid another conversation with him. He doesn't think it was. There's nothing left to say. Whatever friendship they've been building these past few months, it's over and done with. He can't pretend to be her friend any longer.

Not when he loves her like he does.

Need help. Not doing well. Plz meet cabin.

On my way, bro

He has no idea why he texted his brother of all people, but Jesse was the first he could think of. He's closely enough related to care, yet distant enough not to be influenced by nosy neighbors and the town's general gossip.

Plus, if there ever was a master of evading problems, it's Jesse, coming from a long line of Kinsella men who have no idea how to deal with their emotions. He may learn a trick or two.

He's quite relieved when the sees another car come up the small dirt path leading up to the secluded cabin. The tall, slim figure of his brother gets out, carrying a camouflage print duffle bag over his shoulder. Upon seeing Wade sitting on the front steps, twisting a beer bottle in his hands, he drops the bag, looking at the solitary figure of the younger man with concern in his eyes.

He's seen his share of army buddies at the end of their wits and he recognizes the bewildered look in the eyes of his younger, estranged little brother. He's proud, in a strange way, that Wade texted him and he can only hope he can be of any real help. This time.

Jesse knows now what their mother meant when she told him off, years ago, for teasing his little brother for setting free the fireflies his friends had caught in jar. He had thought this was a pretty geeky thing to do, yet momma, after hugging Wade for his action, took him into the kitchen to have a word with him.

"Jesse, instead of tormenting Wade, you should look out for him. Be his brother. There might come a time when you'll really need each other."

"Me? Needing that little slime ball?"

"Yes, Jesse Kinsella. You'll need him and he needs you now too and later even more, maybe. Just…promise me you'll keep an eye out for him. Even if you don't know why I'm asking you yet."

He of course had promised her. There was very little any of the male members of their family could refuse their beautiful, strong willed, kind mother and wife.

He thinks he was eleven when she told him this, Wade was nine. Of course, a little over a year later, she was gone. And she was right. They did need each other.

Too bad they were Kinsella's, all of them. Too bad that denial and evasion was in all of their DNA. Their father found solace in rum, beer and whiskey bottles and plenty of them. Jesse found his in picking endless fights at school, sometimes with boys older than he was and twice his size, until an Army recruiter pushed a flyer into his hands and sealed the deal for him. He left as soon as he got his high school diploma and enlisted, forgetting the promise an eleven year old boy had made to his mother about his only sibling.

And how about that sibling? How about Wade? Jesse is ashamed to admit he has no idea how his kid brother has dealt with the blow of helplessly watching his family fall apart. He knows how he struggled to keep his grades up, keep his dad from literally drowning himself, and keep two odd jobs at the same time in order to buy the bare necessities in food and household stuff his father couldn't care less about.

At seventeen, when Jesse left, his own escape was paramount. Now, almost twice that age, he readily admits he was selfish and cruel, leaving Wade to keep his head above water all by himself. At barely fifteen.

And he managed it. He's extremely proud of the man his geeky, scrawny little bro has become over the years. Where Jesse, in hindsight, realizes he needed the discipline of the Army to build him into a man, Wade and only Wade is responsible for his own growth, especially these past few months, after one stupid night of insecurities and expected failure cost him the chance he had of something real with someone who might have truly loved him.

His redemption is remarkable. Though he's not yet seen the reconstructed carriage house, both Wade and Lavon have sent him some pictures and it looks incredible. And a hell of a lot of work for one man alone, but he believed the stories about Wade working on it day and night without a shadow of a doubt.

Gone also, he heard, are the herds of long-legged, big-breasted, vapor-headed floozies coming and going, crawling through the gate house like an endless centipede. It's a freaking miracle his brother hasn't ended up with any venereal disease or paying a fortune in alimony for an entire Kindergarten full of plaid clad mini-Kinsella's.

Yeah, Wade's certainly grown up. And in need of just that last little push. But not yet, this'll take time. Good thing they have plenty of that.

Walking past his brother, he squeezes his shoulder in an unexpected, friendly gesture. He puts the bag next to the bed and grabs himself a bottle of beer from the small fridge in the kitchenette. Then, ignoring the cold breeze, he goes outside again, nudging Wade, who scoots over to let him sit.

For long minutes, the brothers just sit there, sipping their drinks, looking straight ahead. It's a good silence, a promising one.

They have plenty of time to talk.

Which he does. Slowly but surely, perhaps because Jesse doesn't push him, Wade starts talking. About nothing important at first. But as the hours stretch and no judgment passes his older brother's lips, he feels himself open up, like a cork ready to pop from a champagne bottle.

It's not all fun and games either. Accusations fly, because he still, after more than fifteen years, can't understand how Jesse could have left him behind with his drunken dad and the entire town breathing down his neck, waiting like a pack of hyena's for him to fail on his own.

Wade's found out that his thoughts come up easier when he's being active, so he challenges his brother to a wood chopping competition. They do need to get the fireplace going anyway.

Challenge accepted, both men grab an axe and start slamming away. Sweat pouring down his back, heart racing, breath panting, Wade starts ranting.

"Fifteen, Jesse! I was fifteen and the only people I should have been able to count on, all turned their backs on me!"

Thump! Throwing the split halves of a log on the pile and wiping his face with the hem of his shirt, Jesse answers.

"I know, Wade. I was selfish, I had no idea how to handle taking care of business that shouldn't have been mine to handle in the first place. Please don't forget I was only twelve when she died. Now it's no use to blame Earl, not any more at least, but neither one of us was prepared for the ramifications of losing her."

"So you left?"

"Yes. I'm not proud, but I figured nobody would miss me much anyway. Hell, Wade, you might still think you're worthless, you might think I have an ego tall as a skyscraper, but I always knew you were the strongest of the two of us, at least when it came to your iron will."

"Calling me stubborn, Jess?"

"If the shoe fits."

"Fits you too."

"True. But you're using it more wisely, at least these days."

"I was jealous of you. For being able to just disappear."

"I was jealous of you too, bro. I was convinced you were loved a lot more than I was. By Earl, by momma, by the people in town. There would be plenty of grown-ups ready to help you out."

It earns him an incredulous glare.

"Really, Jesse? That's your bullshit excuse? People will bud in if the kid gets too filthy? If his teeth start to rot? If he doesn't show up at school for another day?"

"Not an excuse, it's just the way I saw it. Back then. I was the big boy who was getting too old to be cuddled, who was always told he was getting too old to do the stuff he liked. To be a better role model for his geeky little brother. While you were forever momma's baby boy and you could still crawl into bed with her to watch a movie. You still confided in her. I felt I couldn't."

"She wouldn't have pushed you away, Jess. She wasn't like that."

It's a whisper, but there's a generous amount of venom in the words. Jackie Kinsella may have been dead for years, Wade is not about to let her precious memory get butchered by his spiteful sibling.

"I know, Wade, at least now I do. Back then I thought it was childish to still want her hugs, to still need her touch. The more people told me I was growing up, I was the oldest, I had to be the strongest, the more I figured I was no longer entitled to be momma's boy. I let that be your part and pretended I wasn't jealous. That snuggling with mommy was for babies."

It may be tears running down his cheeks, but it may also be sweat.

Sweat it has to be. So sweat it is.

"Doesn't mean I didn't need it, craved for it. Doesn't mean I regretted not just admitting it after she passed. I was twelve years old, Wade. Just as much a child as you were."

It starts to drizzle, but neither man seems to notice. Between the drops of perspiration on their backs and foreheads, between the tear streaks on their cheeks, a single drop of rain doesn't hinder them. If anything, it's a brilliant cover-up for the raw emotions they have kept hidden from each other as well as themselves for too long.

"You never came back, though."

"Kinda hard to do when your platoon's 7,000 miles away on the other side of the globe in some God forsaken mine-infested sandbox."

"You weren't there for sixteen years, smartass. You returned quite the super hero. They threw you some freaking parade in town, but you still wouldn't give me a break and just stay put!"

"Didn't think you'd want me there."

"I didn't. But I needed you there either way."

"And since when am I a psychic, Wade?"

"You're not. I know. Not real big communicators, you and I."

"No shit."

It's not all that funny, yet, for some reason, it's hilarious. One look has them both doubled over in laughter, dropping their axes and clutching their stomachs.

When their fit of giggles dies down (not that they would admit to giggling, of course), they stretch their backs in similar and equally fluid motions.

"Let's get a beer. I'm parched."

"Good idea."

"See? Communication's getting better already."

"Yeah well, when it's about beer..."

"I'll drink to that.

Things start to get a bit sunnier after that, outside as well as inside. The first night they spend in that narrow bed together, they curse and snipe at each other for lack of room, kicking shins and hogging blankets. They've shared this bed before, but they were boys then and a lot smaller.

At long last, Jesse gives up, dragging his part of the blankets on the floor and sleeping on the rug. If there's one good thing he's learned in the Army, it's being able to get some sleep pretty much anywhere, anytime. He's out like a light, even though Wade figures the threadbare rug can't be a whole lot more comfortable than the old wooden floor itself.

Wait…is he feeling sorry for his brother? Oh great, now they only have to wait for hell to freeze over and pigs to start growing wings.

Not a bad feeling, though. And he does appreciate the side-effect of having the bed all to himself. Perhaps tomorrow, they can switch.

Or perhaps not.

He'll think about it. But not too hard.

The day after, they decide to go hunting. Expertly, both men inspect and clean their rifles, before setting out, carrying their licenses with them, plus the usual supplies of food and drinks and first aid set, including flares. It's pretty remote out here and cell phone reception is very poor.

Luckily, neither of their licenses is expired yet. Though the boys are well known here by local authorities, they don't feel like spending time at some police station for hunting without a license.

There's not much talking during the hunt, but they've done so much of it the day before, they can use a breather. So it isn't until they come home (not having actually shot anything, but that was always beside the point) and start preparing some food, that they start the conversation again. This time, about the aching place in Wade's heart. Where Zoe should be.

"So eh…what exactly did you call me over here for, bro?"

"I eh…I guess I needed someone to talk to who doesn't know Zoe as well as the other locals."

"And I'm the right person for that? As I recall it, you almost blew both of our heads off for trying to go on a date!"

"I know. And I'm sorry. I was jealous."

"You don't say." Jesse quips, eyebrow raised.

A small smile appears on Wade's mouth.

"I'm still jealous."

"How's that?"

"She's started dating again. And I know we're supposed to be friends and I did promise her I wouldn't interfere when she did, but it damn well hurts to watch her pay those guys so much attention."

"Why don't you tell her?"

"Eh…Kinsella? Communication? Problem?"

"Oh yeah, right."

"Any other ideas, smartass, like, helpful ones?"

"Honestly, I don't. I really wasn't kidding, Wade, you need to talk to her."

"I…I can't. I'm her friend now, I should be moving on. But I can't do that either."

The memory of his shameful defeat still on the very forefront of his mind, he tells Jesse exactly what happened during the Halloween celebration, ending on a sour note;

"So now she knows. She knows damn well how I feel and I just…I know she still has a right to distrust me, but I just need to get my bearings before I can go home and take her rejection."

"You're quite quick to decide she will reject you."

The laugh he barks out holds no humor in it.

"She will. If she wanted me, she knew where to find me. Still, does. I haven't gone anywhere. With anyone."

A shaky sigh. Though he doesn't say it out loud, he knows Jesse understands that, perhaps because he's so lousy with words, Wade is a very physical person. One with a rather healthy sex drive too. And with him rejecting every woman who's not Zoe, and not getting any closer to having Zoe, he hasn't had any sexual intercourse since right before she left him.

"Maybe that's the answer."

"What, go back to my old ways of just doing every girl available?"

"Maybe not to the extreme, but yeah. Do like she does. Date a little, flirt, allow yourself to have some fun. If it makes her jealous, even better. And perhaps there's another girl out there who might be the one who heals you."

"I…I can't. I just told you that. I had that pretty redhead eating out of my hand! And I caught one glimpse of Zoe in that way too sexy yellow mini dress and I was a goner. Suddenly felt like I was flirting with our nana, for Heaven's sake."

He grabs two bottles of beer from the mini fridge and throws one to Jesse, who catches and uncaps it, before taking a long swig, watching Wade do the same. His brother's knuckles turn white with the vast grip he has, clear sign of his frustration.

"I really miss her. I don't think I can trick myself into believing that anybody can replace her, not even in bed, not even for a second. I wish I could, but I know I'll feel horrible about myself. On the other hand, it's been so long and I still find myself reaching out to someone who's not there in the middle of the night."

"Okay, that settles it. I'm sleeping on the floor again tonight."

The look he receives is priceless.

"Ew, Jess!"

"My thoughts exactly."

He shuddered dramatically at the thought, still, he managed to put a grin back on his brother's way too morose face. Their mother had been right; Wade feels too much sometimes.

"Wade…go talk to her. Don't wait too long. She might reject you, she might not, but either way, you'll be better off knowing the facts."

"Yeah…give me a few more days, okay? I just…just give me a few more days."

"Whatever, bro. I'm not in a hurry. Now, let's eat. I'm starving."

"Since when?"

"Wait till you have to survive on K-rations and protein bars for three weeks in a row. Nothing gourmet about it, believe me."

"You enlisted out of your own free will, man. Don't blame me for the louse catering service."

"Fair enough."

"Jess…were you ever scared, you know, out there?"

Wade watches as he brother nods, swallowing a mouthful of fish with difficulty. There are a lot of stories out there he's never heard, too wrapped up as he was in his own problem. Maybe now's the time to reverse the roles and listen to his brother.

Carefully, Jesse starts talking about his tour of duty, not embellishing, but not sensationalizing it either. He talks for the rest of the evening and, as he crawls between his heap of blankets on the floor, gives his baby brother a strange look.

"Hey, Wade?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks, man."

"Anytime. And thank you too."

"Glad to help. Goodnight bro."

"Goodnight, Jess."

So, what do you think? I'd like to know. Thanks!

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