Chapter 32 – Luke
LUKE
Luke arrived five minutes early and went to the counter to order. He heard Jack call his name from a table in the middle of the bright, rustic coffee shop and raised a hand in acknowledgment.
He ordered a decaf soy latte, stirred in a packet of Splenda, and took a breath before turning around.
He felt calm. Also a little excited, but he wasn’t rushing back into Jack’s arms again.
Their eyes met as Luke crossed to the table, and they both smiled—that particular brew of relief and tension that had been the signature of this whole thing since March.
The shop was quiet after the morning rush.
Outside the big windows, kids were skateboarding along the sidewalk.
Coldplay’s “Clocks” was playing softly on the stereo.
They stopped short of hugging.
"Hi," Luke said. "How are you doing?"
"Better," Jack said. "Thanks for this."
"Of course."
They sat. Jack was drinking black coffee. He looked like he hadn't been sleeping much.
“Rough night?” Luke asked.
“No, no… I’m fine,” Jack said, perking up. "My parents are in town."
Luke raised his eyebrows. "Since when?"
"Yesterday. I should have told you sooner. I honestly wasn't sure if I had or not."
That was an interesting admission. Luke wrapped his hands around his cup. "How's that going?"
"Good, actually." Jack shook his head slightly, as if still processing it. "My father's different. Or I'm different. My mother told me to stop treating everything like it needs a strategy and to lighten up."
Luke smiled. "I always liked your mother."
"I called Anna, too,” Jack said, “Tuesday night."
Luke hadn't expected that. He kept his expression easy. "How was that?"
"Uncomfortable but useful.” Jack turned his coffee cup in his hands. "I told her about us, about what I did… and she said it sounded familiar.”
“Really?”
“She used to think it was about her, that I didn’t want to be with her. It took her a long time to figure out it was all my bullshit, and that’s when she left."
Luke was quiet for a moment. "That's honest."
"She's a good person."
"I know. You wouldn't have married someone who wasn't."
His expression shifted, a small loosening, like a knot easing between his eyes.
"I don’t want to make the same mistake with you, Luke. And I've been thinking about what you said on Sunday," Jack said. "The thing about difficult tasks versus joy."
"Jack…"
"I'm not going to tell you I've figured it out. I don't think you'd believe me if I said I had, and you'd be right." He looked at Luke directly. "But I want you to know that it landed. I see it—saw it as soon as you said it, but I’ve been thinking about it all week.”
Luke looked at him for a moment. This was different from Sunday. Jack might have been uncomfortable, but he was in it and present.
"Okay," Luke said.
"Okay, meaning …"
"Meaning I hear you." Luke set down his cup.
Jack seemed to settle at that, not exactly relieved, more like he'd been bracing for something that hadn't come.
They talked for a while after that more easily. Jack described the dinner with his parents—how they seemed more relaxed than he’d remembered. His father was still stiff, his mother still attentive. But they weren’t looking at Jack as if he needed their help, maybe for the first time.
“What’s that about?” he asked, not expecting an answer.
Luke found himself watching Jack the way he had in the earliest days, cataloging the differences between the boy he'd known and the man across the table.
The way Jack paid attention now, the way he'd learned to leave space in a conversation instead of talking about plans for the next thing, the next day, or the next whatever.
He was trying. Luke could see it. And maybe that was enough for now. We seek progress, not perfection.
"There's one more thing," Jack said. "And you can absolutely say no."
"Go ahead."
"I'd like you to have dinner with us on Saturday, my parents and me. If you're willing." He held Luke's gaze. "It would mean something to me. Not as a gesture. I want to share them with you and you with them. I want them to see how special and wonderful you are."
“Dinner with the Garrisons,” Luke said, considering it. “I don’t have a lot of memories about your father. Just that he didn’t like me much.”
“He was wrong about a lot of things, and I’m sorry he made you feel that way.”
“He didn’t like the idea of his son being queer.”
“That’s not exactly it,” Jack said. “He didn’t want me to be vulnerable, I think. He was dead set that I would attend West Point, and he had his plans for me. And Luke? He’s changed. I know he’d love to see you. They both would.”
“Your mother was so composed and warm. Elegant.”
“Still is.”
Luke smiled and said, “Yes, dinner Saturday sounds great. Thank you.”
The tension around Jack’s eyes eased, and his smile widened. It might’ve been the first time Luke realized, out of bed, that he had the ability to make Jack happy.
Outside in the parking lot, they moved slowly toward their cars, neither in a rush.
Jack reached out and touched Luke's hair, the same tentative curl-stroking from the porch all those months ago, the first signal, the one that had started everything. Luke pressed his head gently into Jack's hand.
"Mmm," Luke said. "That's nice."
Luke pressed his palm flat against Jack's chest and felt the steadiness of him. They stood like that for a moment.
"Saturday," Jack said.
"Saturday," Luke said, and stepped back like it was now or never.
He walked to his car, feeling lighter than he had all week. It wasn’t fixed yet, and there were still no guarantees. But they were taking the next right steps.