Chapter 9 – Jack
JACK
Afew days later, the sun over Calder Ridge was sharp and bright, the kind of Colorado day that made your eyes hurt if you were silly enough to ski without goggles or sunglasses. No clouds, mid-thirties, perfect snow conditions. The kind of day locals waited for all season.
Jack adjusted his goggles when they got off the chairlift at the top of a blue run, not the easiest, but not a double black diamond either.
He watched Luke move through the crowd in his gray-and-blue ski suit.
People called out to him, "Hey, Luke!" "Looking good!
" He waved back. He seemed to know everyone’s names.
Even here on the mountain, Luke was woven into the fabric of this town in a way Jack had never seen before.
In that gear, moving with his natural athletic grace, Luke looked like he really did belong in one of those resort ads that used to feature him.
He could be used to sell anything, from instant coffee to family season passes to a romantic fantasy…
"You going to stand there and freeze, Colonel, or are we doing this?" Luke called out.
They spent the next two hours carving through fresh powder. Luke had always been the better skier, and Jack was out of practice, yet he managed to keep up somehow. After a few long runs, Jack felt a burn in his quads.
They stopped at a mid-mountain plateau where the view opened up—a jagged row of the Rockies stretching into the distance. The wind had died down, leaving everything still and blinding. Below them, the valley spread out in white, green, and brown, with the town barely visible in the distance.
Jack pulled off his goggles and squinted against the glare. He inhaled deeply, letting the mountain's quiet settle into him.
"I forgot what this is like," Jack said. "Being somewhere this… big."
Luke looked at him. "Yeah?"
"In the desert, everything's flat. Exposed. This is different. Like the mountains are holding you… I haven't skied in years. And my legs aren't happy with me right now."
"We can find some nice, easy green runs," Luke said. "You getting hungry yet?"
"Nice, easy green runs?"
"I mean, no need to wear yourself out," Luke said with a smirk.
"You're supposed to be nicer than this, Beaumont," Jack said.
"Beaumont? No one's called me that in a hundred years. I'm surprised you remember."
"Course I remember: Beaumont Luke Calder."
"Cassius John Garrison. I haven't called you 'Cash' once since you've been back."
"No one does. I'm always just Jack. Like ‘Will & Grace.’ Remember when we used to watch that every Thursday night?”
“Sure. Great show.”
They smiled at each other in the warm sunshine and crisp mountain air.
Luke adjusted his goggles and pushed off again, sending a spray of snow over Jack's boots. "Now, if you’re done stalling… Catch me at the bottom—Just Jack!"
By the time they reached Luke's house, the sun had dipped low, leaving the peaks shimmering against the purple sky. The transition to the outdoor hot tub was bracing—icy mountain air clashing with 104-degree steam rising in thick plumes.
Submerged in the churning water, Jack studied Luke as he approached. His physique was perfectly symmetrical, his skin flawless.
"Nothing," Jack muttered as Luke got in.
"Nothing what?"
"No marks. No scars," Jack said, gesturing toward Luke's shoulders and chest. "Perfect skin."
"Sunscreen, Jack. And not being in a war zone." Luke's gaze dropped to Jack's scarred torso.
"How are you feeling?" he asked. "Did I push you too hard on those last runs?"
"I'm feeling it," Jack answered.
"Yeah? Where are you feeling it?"
"Quads. Lower back." Jack rotated his neck. "Everywhere, basically."
Luke sat on the edge of the hot tub behind Jack, massaging his neck and shoulders. "You're tight."
"You're good at this."
"You'll be sore tomorrow," Luke said.
"Worth it. A chance to ski with Luke again in Calder Ridge? No question."
Luke kissed the top of Jack's head.
"You know what's funny?" Luke said as he worked down Jack's knotted back.
"What?"
"We're built completely different. You're all lean muscle. Sinewy. Like a fighter."
Jack took Luke's hands in his own and turned him around in front of him. Luke straddled Jack's lap, and his hands returned to rubbing Jack's broad shoulders.
Jack's hands locked around Luke's waist. "I was a fighter. Broke my nose in the ring and got this,” he said, pointing to the scar on his lip, “in a bar fight in Kandahar. Functional strength for fighting. I know it’s not pretty.”
"It is pretty—well, no, not exactly pretty," Luke said, his fingers tracing a scar near Jack's hip. "Alluring, for sure. In a dangerous kind of way. All these battle wounds."
"Not you."
"I have scars, too," Luke corrected quietly. "You just can't see them."
Jack's thumb brushed Luke's cheekbone. "I know."
“People see you and think, there’s a hero. They see me and think, That guy has it so easy.”
“That’s not what I see,” Jack said, his hand still on Luke’s waist. “I’ve had friends who got sober and others who couldn’t. But… what you did—coming back here, building this life, staying sober for fifteen years—takes real courage.”
Luke said, “I don’t think about it like that.”
"Maybe you should," Jack said softly.
Luke's eyes met his. Neither of them spoke for a moment. The hot tub bubbled around them, steam rising into the cold night air.
They looked into each other's eyes, holding that gaze. Luke felt the question hanging between them: Is this really happening?
Luke brushed his hand over Jack's wet crew cut. He traced the rope of muscle from Jack’s shoulder down to his elbow.
"You are seriously tight," Luke said. "No flexibility."
"I can be flexible."
"Yeah?" Luke stepped back and grinned. "Show me."
Jack got out of the hot tub and tried to touch his toes, looking a bit comical, naked and dripping wet. He got about halfway down.
Luke laughed. "Jesus, Colonel. When was the last time you stretched?"
"I stretch."
"Clearly not enough." He stood, also naked and dripping wet, and dropped into a perfect split—legs straight, chest up, hands on the floor.
Jack stared. "You've got to be kidding me."
Luke rose smoothly and did it again, this time facing the other direction. "Yoga three times a week." He stood and grinned. "Among other benefits, it's great for—" He waggled his eyebrows.
"Show-off."
"You jealous?"
"Maybe a little." Jack pulled Luke to him. "You gonna teach me?"
Luke smiled. "I could teach you a lot of things."
He moved closer as they both toweled off.
Jack pulled him in, kissing him hard. "Show me.”
Jack carried Luke into the bedroom, and they tumbled into bed together, lightheaded from exertion and comfortable with each other in a way that felt both new and familiar.
This time, they were gentler than before, their hands lingering, their movements less athletic.
When they finished, they stayed tangled together in the fading afternoon light.
Jack was standing by the bed, almost fully dressed, when he saw Luke wake up and look around the room, dazed.
“Hey,” Jack said. “You fell asleep.”
Luke blinked slowly a couple of times. His hair was flattened on one side, his face creased from the pillow. He looked younger, like this, vulnerable and adorable.
“You’re leaving," Luke said.
"Yeah," Jack said, grabbing his jacket. "I've got a meeting at 0800 tomorrow. Need to go through the binders and prep."
Luke sat up slowly and said, "You can stay."
Jack felt the words land square on his back, and he thought he understood what Luke was really asking.
Stay. Not just tonight. Stay in this with me. Stay.
"I need to prep for the morning." Jack was already halfway to the door. "I like to get ahead of things."
Luke's face changed, like something closed.
"Right," he said. "Of course."
Luke looked like he wanted to say more, but was holding back. "Drive safe."
Jack returned to the bed and gave Luke a quick, firm kiss on the forehead. Efficient. Done. "Thanks for today. It was great spending so much time together. And … this,” he said, indicating the bed. “I'll text you."
And then he was out.
Driving through the dark alone, the roads swept clean, and snow piled high on either side, he felt the old guilt tug at him.
This is different. I’m going home to sleep, not blowing him off again.
He told himself he wasn’t running from anything. He was taking things slowly for his own good. And for Luke’s, too, right?
The justification still tasted familiar and cutting.