Chapter 5 – Luke
LUKE
Careful, he thought. Stay present and don't get ahead of yourself.
After work, he'd gone home, showered, and changed into dark jeans and a soft charcoal sweater. It held the line between casual and “yeah, I’m hot” sexy. A moment later, he was ready. He got out of the car and walked toward the restaurant.
The hostess, Jenny, greeted him with a knowing smile.
“Hi, Hon, I’m meeting a friend tonight,” Luke said. “Could you show him to my table when he gets here?”
“He’s already here. Follow me,” she said, leading Luke to Jack’s table. It was toward the back, near a corner, but not hidden at all.
Jack stood as Luke approached the booth. They looked at each other for a moment, and both seemed unsure what to do with their hands.
Handshake? Hug?
Luke watched Jack's face. The slight uncertainty, the way his shoulders were tight. Twenty-four years later, and they were both as nervous as teenagers.
Jack extended his hand. Luke took it. Their grips were firm and eager, lingering a touch longer than normal. Jack's palm was warm and slightly rough. The handshake lasted three, maybe four seconds, long enough for Jenny to smile and walk away.
Luke enjoyed the delicious anticipation as they sat and smiled at each other.
“Jack Garrison…” Luke opened.
“Luke Calder… How are you doing with all this?”
“All this? Seeing you out of the blue after 24 years? Almost jumping each other at the gym? Candlelight dinner…? I’m sure I have no idea what you mean.”
They both laughed, which broke the tension.
“What’s good here? I’m famished.”
“This is Calder Ridge’s best classic steakhouse, so I’d recommend a bone-in ribeye,” Luke said. “Unless you’re one of those vegetarians or something.”
“Ha. Not likely.”
“Good. Because Delmonico’s is a rare holdout against tofu entrees and vegan-friendly options!”
“Good! I eat meat,” Jack said, sounding like Arnold’s Conan the Barbarian.
They caught eyes again, Luke with his eyebrow up skeptically, and burst out laughing.
“Sorry,” Jack said. “That didn’t come out right.”
Jenny returned, took their drink orders, and explained the evening special. Something about trout—no thank you, Luke thought. Jack ordered a Heineken; Luke chose iced tea. He wondered whether Jack would ask why he skipped alcohol. Sometimes people did. Savvier folks let it go without comment.
Jack gave no sign he noticed or cared about Luke’s drink order.
Their drinks came, and Jack raised his glass. “Should we toast?”
“Absolutely,” Luke said.
“To what…?”
Luke thought for a moment. To second chances? To not blowing this? To twenty-four years of wondering?
He could hear Norah Jones singing “Don’t Know Why” and the pops and crackles from the fireplace across the room.
“To this, of course,” Luke said. “Tonight.”
They clinked glasses and sipped, their eyes still locked. The iced tea was cold and bracing. Jack's eyes were warm. Luke felt the moment shift from nostalgia and attraction toward possibility.
"Can I say something?" Jack asked.
"Of course."
"I’ve been wanting to say this for a long time. Years, really,” Jack began. “I’ve always felt terrible about how I acted when I left, and after… For checking out like that. For never coming back or even trying to stay friends. And I’m sorry. Really. I always have been.”
Luke was quiet for a moment, his brow furrowing as he listened to Jack’s words and chose his response.
He wanted to do the right thing and accept the apology without flippantly dismissing the heartache he had endured over the years.
Then, with a breath, he reached across the table and squeezed Jack's forearm once, brief but firm.
"We were kids," Luke said. "We didn't know what the hell we were doing."
"I knew enough to know I was hurting you."
"Yeah," Luke admitted. "You did. But Jack, that was twenty-four years ago. We survived being teenagers.”
Jack looked at Luke as though waiting for absolution. Luke met his gaze, his own expression open and steady, his breathing slow, as if grounding himself in this fragile peace.
"You forgive me?" Jack asked.
"I forgave you a long time ago," Luke said, having gone through the long, hard process of letting go of resentments, which included this. He blinked slowly, as if it were a period at the end of a long sentence. "West Point must've been intense. Then your career took off. I get it."
Still, Luke resolved to keep an eye out for trouble if he and Jack kept interacting for long. He knew this was emotionally fraught ground. But as he looked across the candlelight at Jack, Luke realized he wanted to find out what this could be—here and now. Even if it wasn’t forever.
"I'm glad you're back," Luke said, nodding. "I'm glad you walked into The Ridge yesterday. I'm glad we're here tonight."
"Me, too," Jack said.
Luke was ready to move on. “Now, tell me about yourself. You’re retired from the Army?”
“Yep. Twenty years. A few deployments in danger zones. Full bird.”
“Excuse me?”
“Full colonel. That was my rank.”
“Were you in Iraq?”
“And Afghanistan. And a couple of places that didn’t make the congressional record or the headlines.”
“Gotcha.”
The waiter appeared and smiled at Luke for a little too long.
Luke didn't recognize him, which was unusual for him in Calder Ridge.
Most food-service employees were locals or familiar ski bums. But this kid had a polished look—maybe from Denver or California—possibly part of the influx of people seeking work on movie and TV productions in the area.
"Good evening, gentlemen. Can I start you with appetizers?"
"Artichoke dip and crusty bread?” Luke asked Jack, who nodded. "And then I'll have the roast chicken and pasta, but can they make it with light olive oil and no cheese?"
The waiter wrote it down, eyes still on Luke.
"Excellent choice. And for you?" he asked Jack without fully turning toward him.
Jack ordered a medium-rare ribeye and a baked potato with all the fixings.
“Wait, you know what?” Luke said. “We’re at Delmonico’s. I can’t get chicken at Delmonico’s. Bring me a ribeye, too, and a baked potato with no butter or sour cream, please.”
The waiter left.
"That happen often?" Jack asked with a smile.
"What?"
"Our waiter looking at you like you're dessert."
“Occupational hazard.”
"You handled it like a pro," Jack said.
"Years of practice."
"I bet," Jack said. "And the thing is, I know how he feels.”
"Yeah?"
"Yeah." Jack's voice dropped. "You were the best-looking boy in school, and now you might be the best-looking man I've ever seen. I don't think I've ever said anything like that before."
Luke looked down, almost bashful. "You're incredibly sexy, yourself. I can't stop staring."
"So, don't stop," Jack said quietly.
Luke's eyes lifted and met Jack's coolly.
His hands were restless, though, and he gripped the banquette to fight the pull toward Jack he felt.
“I bought some of the magazines you did,” Jack said. “Impressive.”
"Did you see me in Playgirl?"
Jack's eyes widened. "You did Playgirl?"
"God, no. I'm kidding," Luke said with a grin. "I was in underwear ads and fitness spreads, not softcore porn."
"Shame," Jack said.
Luke laughed. "Yeah?"
"Yeah,” Jack said. “Why’d you come back? Sounds like an exciting life.”
“It was,” Luke said. “It was too exciting, as a matter of fact. I had a lot of fun, traveled, met a few celebrities… And then, you know. Small-town boy gets a taste of the high life, flies too close to the sun… Oldest story in L.A."
He wanted to change the subject from his Calvin Klein underwear ads.
"What about you? You got married… and divorced?"
To a woman, Luke thought but didn't say. He'd heard Jack had dated women at West Point, which would figure. But marriage?
"Divorced for a few years now. Anna. A good woman. It's fine. No drama,” he said, clipping through the list of key points. “The Army doesn't exactly prepare you for domestic life with a woman who has a life of her own."
Luke studied him. "And you were … restless?"
"Something like that. I mean, she knew what she was getting into, as far as my attractions went. We thought it wouldn’t matter, and truthfully, I don’t think it did. There were other issues.”
A beat of silence.
"Is there anyone in your life now?" Luke asked.
"No," Jack said. "No one."
Luke held his gaze. "Good.”
They slowly took sips of their drinks.
“After Anna, have you been dating other women or… ?”
“I don’t date, really,” Jack said. “But I haven’t been with another woman since Anna.”
“So you’re gay?”
“Oh, I don’t know… Depends on how you look at it. I’m attracted to women sometimes, but it’s been mostly men. Probably bi, maybe gay—does it matter?”
“No,” Luke said. “Not at all.”
“OK. Your turn,” Jack said, flipping the conversation back on him.
“Totally gay and very single,” Luke said. “I have good friends to keep me busy—and of course, The Ridge.”
“Right, you clearly love it. Did you buy it and renovate it? I don’t remember it being that nice or popular back in the day.”
Luke explained that he did not own The Ridge; he managed it with the full support of the owner, a foundation affiliated with the university.
“I deal with their property manager, never the board,” Luke said.
“He treats me well and lets me run the place like it’s my own.
We still have to make a profit, and the money part gets tricky.
I’m planning a big fundraiser in a few months. It’s crucial to our future.”
A pause.
“It has your name on it—like the whole town.”
“You remember my great-great-grandfather discovering the silver strike in the 1800s… and then losing a fortune long before I was born.”
“No, I remember that. Of course,” Jack said. “But the details are fuzzy.”
“That’s about it,” Luke said. “My family name is everywhere, but I have no claim to any of it. I own a house and make a nice living. But my only big money came from Calvin Klein, and I put most of that up my nose and used the rest to pay for rehab.”
“I’m sorry,” Jack said. “I didn’t mean to pry.”
“You didn’t. We’re catching up. You’re divorced and possibly bi, and I’m a recovering alcoholic. That’s part of my story. I don’t talk about it much, but I don’t hide it either.”
They finished their steaks and Jack his second beer. When the table was cleared, Luke flashed a half-smile, enough to draw Jack’s gaze again.
“I keep looking below your eyes,” Jack said. “Rude of me.”
“Below my eyes?” Luke asked.
“To your lips.”
“My lips?” Luke said, turning it back on Jack. “I could say the same about your lips. And your eyes. They were always double trouble for me.”
“Maybe not anymore,” Jack said, rising and excusing himself. “Men’s room.”
Luke watched him walk away toward the hostess stand and restrooms.
Luke was certain of one thing: He wanted Jack Garrison tonight. He wanted Jack on him, in him, all over him.
Twenty-four years of wondering—could Jack be different now? Could this be something new and revived, or just a fun night of hot sex and a partial reconciliation?
Only one way to find out.
Jack returned and asked, “Shall we?”
“Let me get the check.”
“I already took care of that,” Jack said, helping Luke on with his coat.
Outside, the world had gone quiet and cold.
Snow fell in thick, soft flakes, turning everything blue-white under the parking lot lights.
Cars and pine boughs were already blanketed.
It was the kind of Colorado winter night when sound disappeared, and the air itself seemed to glow—not merely bright, but luminous.
Dark blue and silver, cold and implausibly picturesque.
They walked to Luke's car and stopped, facing each other.
Snow caught in Jack's dark crewcut, on the shoulders of his jacket. His breath clouded between them.
Luke started to say, "I had a great—"
But Jack pulled Luke's chin between his thumb and forefinger, tilting Luke's face toward him. Their eyes met for half a second, long enough for Luke to see the hunger there, the certainty. And then Jack pressed those full lips to Luke's mouth for a beat, then two, then three.
The kiss was gentle at first. Testing. Then it grew deeper.
Luke pulled Jack closer. Their tongues met, sliding together, exploring. It escalated faster than Luke anticipated, maybe Jack, too.
Jack slowed it down, reverting to a gentler friction and bringing them both back to the present moment. When they finally pulled apart, they stood there, faces close together, snow falling around them.
"Okay," Jack said. "That answers that."
"Answers what?" Luke asked, breathless.
"Whether I could kiss you and walk away." Jack's hand was still on the back of Luke's neck, as it had been last night on Patty’s porch. "I can't."
Luke beamed, that touch setting him on fire now that he’d finally had a taste of Jack. "Good."
"What's next?" Jack asked, the unsaid message clear.
Luke stepped back and clicked the fob to unlock his car, the headlights flashing as the perfect punctuation.
He looked at Jack and felt certain.
"Follow me," he said.
Jack got into his Jeep without a word.