Chapter 15 – Jack
JACK
“Got a little problem that doesn’t exactly fall under your job description for history, military science, or the wrestling team,” Hallicks said. “But it would be a big help to us if you could guide logistics for restoring the downed power lines from the storm.”
“Of course. I was just leaving. How bad is it?”
“Not bad, I must say. We are, of course, fully prepared for a little snow,” Hallicks said. “But my maintenance ops director is out with COVID, and his assistant is in Mexico on vacation, so… we could sure use a smart leader on site.”
It took about an hour to get there, twice as long as usual. Hallicks texted him the address of the campus power facility and the name of the man in charge.
Mo Macy was the first out-of-shape character Jack had seen in Calder Ridge, where most folks lived active lifestyles and stayed trim and fit.
The plant manager moved slowly but was friendly and seemed capable.
He explained the situation well to Jack and asked for advice on managing resources and prioritizing tasks.
Jack found it no different from leading anyone through any mission.
Investigate, assess, prioritize, execute.
That system always worked, in combat, office politics, and power grids.
Why isn’t it working so well on personal fronts, too?
With the lights back on by three, Jack had already rescheduled a couple of appointments that afternoon to look at rental properties. He bumped them to the morning and made sure Hallicks understood he wouldn’t be back until after lunch.
“You saved the day, Jack! Come in whenever you like tomorrow,” Hallicks replied, patting Jack on the shoulder and merrily shuffling off to his next emergency. “Let me know if you need help finding a place. We have resources for that.”
Jack made a note of that, but he was curious to learn more about the area by meeting people and seeing homes all over Calder Ridge—not relying on university housing for graduate teaching assistants or something on that level. He’d hold that in reserve.
The first place he saw Tuesday morning was a little ranch-style house that might’ve been OK elsewhere. But Jack didn’t want to live on the corner of Main Street and Highway 1.
Next, an apartment downtown was too old-fashioned, with condensation on the windows from the steam heat and a Brady Bunch-style kitchen.
“One more strike to go,” he said as he drove to the next place, a two-bedroom, 1,200-square-foot house on a quiet cul-de-sac in a pleasant, ordinary subdivision between the hotel and the old high school.
It had covered parking, a generous deck overlooking a creek and offering mountain views, and no neighbors who shared a wall, ceiling, or floor.
The rental agent, a handsome woman about his age in a beige dress suit, happily gave him a copy of the lease and said he could move in as soon as he signed.
Funny, Jack noted. She was perfectly cordial but hadn’t asked a single question about him, hadn’t flirted, and hadn’t strayed from “strictly business” even once. He admired that efficiency.
Jack stood in the empty living room, looking out at the deck and the creek beyond. Mountain views. Quiet. Space.
I hope Luke likes the place, he thought.
Wait, what?
What difference would that make?
He couldn’t say. The two had plans for the next day, Wednesday, and he’d tell him about it then.
But another work “crisis” came up from Hallicks and his team on Wednesday afternoon, and Jack had to text Luke to reschedule.
“I’ll make it up to you tomorrow,” he texted.
Luke responded, “No worries.”
And Jack hoped he could take it at face value, because he was enjoying his time with Luke but didn’t need any more pressure right now.
Thursday evening, they worked out together, and when they were done, Luke suggested, “Let’s go to my place to shower up and eat.”
“I can’t,” Jack said. “No time tonight.”
“OK, a casual bite somewhere, then?”
Jack considered squirming out of it, but relented. They drove out to the highway intersection to the Chipotle, scarfing their burrito bowls and teasing each other about all the carbs in the chips.
“Chipotle is hell on your macros,” Luke said. “But sometimes… It does hit the spot!”
They drove back to The Ridge, where Luke said good night. They sat in Jack’s Jeep for a moment, the engine running, the heat blasting. The parking lot was empty.
“We should talk about…” Luke started, then stopped. His hand was on the door handle. “No, never mind. It can wait.”
“What?” Jack said. He saw something in Luke’s face, something careful and uncertain, something Luke was holding back.
“No, it’s not important. Get some sleep.”
Jack felt it—the question hanging between them. What are we doing? Where is this going? Are you staying?
He should ask. He should pull Luke back, say “tell me,” and have an adult conversation.
Instead, he said, “Okay. Text me tomorrow.”
Luke left without another word.
Back in his room, Jack took a while to fall asleep. The ceiling held his attention as the heater’s on-off cycle clicked again and again.
He couldn’t shut his mind off. Stress kept popping up like a game of whack-a-mole.
Moving. Hallicks piling on more assignments. Luke wanting to talk.
Whack. Whack. Whack.
But they kept popping back up, especially the last one.
This wasn’t how he usually isolated and contained stress. Luke’s face in the parking lot. The way he’d started to say something, then stopped. The way Jack had let him stop.
Because if Luke asked the questions, Jack could feel coming—Where is this going? What do you want? Are you staying? —Jack would have to answer.
And he didn’t have answers.
Or, at least, he didn’t want to say them out loud yet.