Chapter 22 – Luke
LUKE
Luke lay with his head on Jack's chest, listening to his slow breathing.
The sex had been incredible. Intense. Almost overwhelming.
But something felt off, almost desperate, as if he were trying to prove something. To himself or to Luke, Luke wasn't sure.
Maybe both.
Luke traced a finger down Jack's ribs, feeling the ridge of scar tissue.
"You okay?" he asked quietly.
"Yeah. You?"
"Yeah."
They lay in silence.
Luke wanted to ask about Wednesday, about their conversation after they left the bar. He wanted to know if Jack was okay, if they were okay. But he was afraid of unpacking too much. Things could get messy.
Instead, he said, "Thanks for tonight."
Jack's arm tightened around him. "Always."
Always.
Luke closed his eyes and tried to believe it.
But as Jack's breathing deepened into sleep, Luke stayed awake, thinking about Wednesday night. About Jack's face at the bar. About how he'd gone quiet in the Jeep.
Can you handle my life?
He'd tried to ask the question, but Jack hadn't really tried to answer it. For such an educated, worldly man, he did not like to look too long in the mirror.
And tonight, this intense, dominating sex felt like Jack's way of saying yes without words.
Still, Luke needed those words as much as he needed the sweat.
And he was starting to realize something.
Jack was generous in bed. Focused and dominant, he gave tirelessly.
But it was always about control.
And staying independent.
“I will do to you,” but never “we will do together.”
And Luke wondered: If Jack couldn't let go in bed, could he ever truly let go anywhere else?
Could he ever really let Luke in?
Luke rolled onto his side, pressing closer to Jack's warmth.
He loved this man. He'd loved him since he was sixteen years old, and he loved him now—maybe even more, because now he knew him as a man, not as a memory of a boy.
But loving someone and building a life with them were two different things.
And Luke wasn't sure which one was being offered.
He closed his eyes and tried to sleep, but the thoughts kept circling.
Tomorrow, he told himself. Tomorrow we'll talk.
But even as he thought it, he knew he wouldn't bring it up.
Because he was afraid.
Afraid that if he asked the real questions—Do you love me? Can you see a future with me? Are you staying? Jack might not be able to answer them.
Or worse, he might answer honestly.
And Luke wasn't ready to hear it.
So he lay there in the dark, Jack's arms around him, feeling the distance between them grow even as he felt Jack’s steady heartbeat against his back.