The Long Way Found (Calder Ridge #1)

Chapter 1 – Luke

LUKE

Luke Calder stared at the heavy, wet snow plastering The Ridge's floor-to-ceiling windows and thought, "Wait a second—I was NOT expecting this today.”

Winters on Colorado’s Western Slope were unpredictable and extreme. Luke knew that as well as anyone.

And this was no disaster, just another snowy day in the town of Calder Ridge.

The heavy sky cast the usually cheerful rec center in shadow—the mats were darker, the weights were dingier, and the colors at the juice and protein bar looked dull.

The entire gym felt humid, much like the pool, and the smell of chlorine wafted through the air.

For Luke, the weather meant he had to take charge right away. He’d also need a ride home because he and Marley, his chocolate lab, had jogged in this morning under clear skies.

"Amir, can you salt the sidewalk again, please?

The north side is already icing over," Luke called out, his voice cutting through the lobby's hum to his friend and right-hand man.

The mid-afternoon crowd wasn't much, only a few regulars ready for the "Fit over Sixty" session.

"And I’ll grab the extra towels for the mudroom.

I don't want anyone slipping on the slate. "

"On it, Boss," Amir said, putting his mop back in the bucket. He gestured toward the glass, where condensation was sliding down the panes. "Helluva storm to hit all of a sudden. Who brought this in?"

Luke didn't have an answer. Instead, he quickly crouched to wipe a wet spot on the floor, stood up sharply, and suddenly felt unbalanced and dizzy for a few seconds.

The heavy glass double doors hissed open, letting a gust of freezing mountain air into the warm lobby. Luke turned to face the doors, started to bellow, "Welcome to the Calder Ridge Rec—" and then stopped himself.

He looked up at the doorway and saw a tall, imposing man brushing wet snow off himself. He wore a new black Eddie Bauer parka, shiny and slick, and ran his hands over his wet black crew cut.

Across the weight room, someone dropped a forty-five-pound plate. The metallic thud echoed through the rafters, but for Luke, still woozy from the head rush, the sound was like a gong meant to grab his attention.

Luke caught the stranger’s eyes, which were flat, glacial blue.

Unforgettable.

"Jack?" Luke whispered. Then, louder to drown out the hammering of his heartbeat: "Jack Garrison?"

The visitor's expression shifted to show surprise, recognition, something that looked almost like anger.

"Luke," he said, his voice rough and low. "I didn’t know you’d be here."

Luke thought: Where else would I be? It’s my job. In a business that’s named for the town that’s named for my family. Where you left me waiting 24 years ago.

Twenty-four years. The number hit Luke hard, like a kettlebell to the gut. Twenty-four years since Jack went to West Point and never came back.

And now here he was, dripping snow on The Ridge's floor.

"Yacht Rock Bop starts in five in the back aerobics room," Amir announced over the loudspeaker. "No pina colada if you're late!"

That jolted Luke out of the fog. Yes, he still felt it, that old ache he thought he'd buried.

When Luke started across the room to greet the man, he was more nervous than he'd ever been on any fashion runway back in L.A.

At six feet two and two hundred pounds, and a few weeks from turning forty, Luke moved with confidence and composure.

He tucked his tight red polo shirt into his Lululemon pants and checked his hair quickly in a mirror.

If there was ever a day to be surprised by the first guy who broke your heart, at least he was looking good for it.

As Luke approached, he noticed the changes on Jack’s face—the crooked nose that must’ve been broken at some point, a scar on his lower lip.

But those blue eyes were the same and unmistakable. And now, Luke could see, they were uncertain, too.

In an instant, Luke caught a flash of fear in them. Maybe it was only anxiety and nervousness because Luke was feeling those, as well, along with a flash of desire.

Defensively, he quickly decided to flash his most dazzling smile.

Stay present. It's just Jack out of the blue, a lifetime later. No big deal.

Luke approached with all the confidence he could find or fake.

"Holy shit. Jack Garrison? How long have you been back in town?”

They shook hands stiffly and briefly, but long enough for ancient memories to spark from the touch of Jack’s big, strong hand, cold and wet though it was from the snow.

“A few hours. Drove up from Denver, checked in at the lodge.”

“What brings you back to town?"

"I might take a job at the university. Seeing the dean this week, thought I'd come in for a quick workout after my drive today.”

"Gotcha," Luke said. He was suddenly out of things to say, trying to hold onto his composure and not crumble. He could feel the confidence slipping away. He wanted to drop the polite facade and say, “What the actual fuck?”

It couldn't be Jack Garrison. But it was.

"Well, let me give you a tour, or at least show you where the locker room is."

Jack didn’t move. His boots might’ve been nailed to the floor. But he did make a show of looking at his watch.

“You know, it’s already later than I realized. I don’t think I’ll have time before I have to make a call back at the lodge,” Jack said. “I heard you might work here, so I wanted to drop in to say hello. Maybe I should’ve emailed instead.”

That would’ve been nice, Luke thought. But instead, he said, “I’m glad you did. Drop in to say hello, I mean.”

Luke started to add, “It’s been so long,” but Jack spoke up at the same time.

"This snowstorm is some kind of welcome back," he said, nodding to the window. “I forgot how fast this can happen here.”

Are we really going to talk about the weather? Luke wondered. This is so awkward.

"It’s crazy, right? Might be gone in the morning, too. You can never tell this late in the year.”

They looked at each other, neither saying a word.

Luke felt the silence stretching into hours.

The last time they’d been together was the day Jack left for West Point, when they hugged and cried, and Jack promised they’d see each other again soon.

Then three short honks from Jack’s father waiting in his car downstairs had ended the moment, and Luke could hear the sound of them now.

“Let's catch up this week, maybe have lunch or dinner," Luke said, hoping he wasn't coming off as too eager.

"That sounds nice," Jack said, clearing his throat and looking around blankly. “I really should. Go now. I, uhm, have a call to make.”

Jack looked up at him, so Luke nodded and waited for Jack to leave, say something else, or decide to stay and work out after all.

Jack was obviously confused, maybe even cornered by something.

Maybe Luke was reading too much into it.

Maybe Luke was confused, himself. But the mini-reunion fizzled as Jack opened the door and slipped back out into the storm.

It was all over so fast, and Luke was left standing there, breathless. He turned to find Amir staring at him from across the gym floor, eyebrows raised.

“Who was that?” Amir asked, walking over and pushing back his thick black hair. He looked at Luke with warm brown eyes, showing his concern.

"Old friend," Luke said, deciding to keep it simple for now and avoid any explanations. "From high school."

"Old friend who made you look like you'd seen a ghost."

Luke grabbed his water bottle and took a long drink. "It's been a while. Seeing him was not on my bingo card for today."

Amir studied him for a moment. "You good?"

Luke paused and took a deep breath.

He said, "Yeah, I'm good," but he felt something pecking at an old wound.

The rest of the afternoon dragged as Luke's mind kept rotating back to Jack. He started to Google Jack’s name, but stopped himself. Then he had to enter a new member’s credit card number three times to get it right.

Come on, Luke, he thought. You have work to do. Jack Garrison showing up after two decades doesn't change that.

Except it did.

He couldn't wait to tell Mara about this at her parents’ house tonight. The weather had changed all right, and it wasn’t just a snowstorm.