Chapter 38 – Jack
JACK
"Luke still doesn't know?" Jack asked. "About the donation?"
"Not unless Amir spilled the beans," Hallicks said. "We had to get a few of his numbers to contact the foundation and the board."
"Good. He's been working so hard on this. I hope it's what he needs."
"It's good for everyone," Hallicks said. "Promoting community health, youth fitness, education. Getting you further networked around the Western Slope. A win all around."
Jack had stopped by Hallicks' office after his team meeting that morning.
Cory, his graduate teaching assistant and wrestling trainer, raised his hand as the meeting wound down.
"Sir, the fundraiser's next weekend?! Wow. That means it's, like, almost summer!"
"Time flies."
"I'm ready for some Big ‘80s," Cory said. "We watched Xanadu over the weekend for costume and roller-boogie tips. Killer soundtrack. What was that band? Cosmic Life Orchestra?"
"Electric Light Orchestra," Jack corrected. "They were big back in the day. Before my time, even."
“Super-oldies, then,” Cory said with a smirk.
"And Olivia Newton-John was hot," someone added. "Hopelessly Devoted to You, right?"
"Wrong movie," Jack said. "If there's nothing else, we're done. I'm around all day if you need me."
Now with Hallicks, it looked like all the paperwork had been taken care of to surprise Luke with a substantial check at the event.
Not to steal the spotlight, but to show the university's support.
And maybe even to be seen by the whole town as praising Luke on his big night, in front of Jack's parents and everybody.
"The Ridge is an anchor in this town," Jack said.
"Exactly," Hallicks said. "And as community leaders, we don't let our anchors struggle."
Jack thought about Luke. The Ridge mattered: the town, the work, and the widening circle of people it drew into his orbit. It seemed everyone who lived here or visited eventually walked through its doors.
Luke was the burning sun at the center of it all.
No question.
Jack was back in his office, grading papers again, when he heard a knock on the door.
Martinez appeared in Jack's doorway, backpack slung over one shoulder.
"Sir? Got a minute?"
"Always. Come in."
Martinez sat, fidgeting with his backpack strap. "So... my comp professor loved the essay and said I should submit it to the online literary magazine."
"That's great news."
"Yeah." Martinez didn't look like it was great news. "She also... she asked if I'd talked to anyone. About the stuff in the essay. Like, professionally."
Jack waited.
"I haven't," Martinez said. "I mean, I know the VA has people. And the university has counseling services. But..." He trailed off.
"But it feels like admitting something."
"Yeah." Martinez looked relieved. "In the Army, you just... You don't. You lock it down and keep moving. I'm good most of the time. But writing that essay, talking about it... I don't know. Maybe she's right."
Jack leaned back in his chair. "You know what I've been learning lately? That locking it down works great for missions. But it's shit for actual living."
Martinez looked up, surprised.
"I'm not saying you need therapy," Jack continued. "But if it helps, you’re smart to seek it. Don’t let pride get in the way.”
Jack pulled out a sticky note and wrote down a name, then handed it to Martinez. "Dr. Sarah Chen. She works with veterans. Tell her I sent you. She's good."
Martinez took the note, studying it. "You've... seen her?"
Jack hesitated for a moment. "I'm considering it. Feelings are complicated sometimes. I might need help making sense of them.”
Martinez nodded slowly. "Thank you, Sir."
"You wrote a hell of an essay, Martinez. Don't stop there. Do the work. All of it."
After Martinez left, Jack sat at his desk for a long moment, weighing whether he should tell Luke about this right now or let it go. Then he pulled out his phone and typed a message to Luke:
“Told a student (Martinez!) to consider therapy. Felt like a hypocrite. Maybe I should take my own advice.”
Luke's response came back immediately: “It might help.”
Jack stared at the message, took a deep breath, and slowly exhaled as the truth settled into him. Not so bad at all.
“Yeah. It might.”
Jack was still sitting there, thinking about his text exchange with Luke, when Professor Morrison appeared at the doorway.
"Garrison! Got a minute?"
Jack looked up. "Sure. What's up?"
Morrison came in and sat without being invited, sprawling in the chair Martinez had just vacated. He held a coffee cup and a faculty newsletter.
"So, the fundraiser this weekend," Morrison said. "That's for your boyfriend's gym, right?"
"Luke's recreation center, yes."
Morrison grinned. "I still can't figure out how you pulled that off."
"Pulled what off?"
"Come on, Garrison. How’d a normal Joe like you get an Adonis like that?”
Jack's jaw tightened. "Morrison—"
"Relax." Morrison held up his hands. "Everybody wants a trophy wife. You’re smart enough for the two of you, right?”
Jack set down his pen carefully and considered mounting a full-blown defense of Luke’s intelligence and credibility. This jackass doesn’t deserve it, he decided.
"Luke's not eye candy, Morrison. He runs a million-dollar operation and helps people live better lives,” Jack said. “Hot people can be smart, you know. There have been studies.”
Silence. Morrison stood, clearly ready to leave.
"Anyway," Morrison said, trying to recover, "I'm looking forward to meeting him this weekend. The fundraiser should be interesting."
"It will be."
After Morrison left, Jack noticed he wasn’t even angry, not at Morrison specifically. The man was thoughtless, not malicious. But at the pattern. The assumption that Jack’s interest would be only in Luke’s looks.
“A trophy wife.”
Screw ‘em, he thought with a touch of pride. He IS hot. And I ain’t even worried about it.
Twenty minutes later, another knock.
Jack looked up to see Luke in the doorway, holding two coffee cups and a paper bag.
"Thought you might need sustenance," Luke said, stepping in and setting a cup on Jack's desk.
Jack's face broke into a grin. "You're a lifesaver. What's in the bag?"
"Mara sent scones and sandwiches. Apparently, she made too many this morning."
"Apparently." Jack took a sip of the coffee, strong and hot. Perfect. "How did you know I'd need this right now?"
"I know how you get when you’re deep into grading papers. And I wanted to give you the plant I promised the last time I was here,” Luke said, presenting a two-foot snake plant in a blue ceramic pot.
“Thank you,” Jack said. “This place needs it.”
They enjoyed the quiet for a moment, sipping their coffee. Through the window, students crossed the quad in pairs and groups, spring sunshine washing everything in gold.
"Martinez stopped by earlier?" Jack said, gesturing to the essay on his desk. "Finished his personal essay and asked me to read it about a week ago. Now his teacher wants to publish it in the campus magazine.”
"That's great. You've put in a lot of time with him.”
"He did the work. I just asked questions."
Luke smiled. "You're good at this, you know. Teaching. Mentoring. Being there for these kids."
"You think?"
"I know." Luke stood, brushing crumbs from his jeans. "I'll let you get back to it."
"Thank you. For this. For knowing I'd need it."
Luke crossed back to him and leaned in, kissing him—quick, sweet, tasting of coffee and cinnamon. "Anytime."
That evening, Jack found his jeep taking him toward The Ridge on his way home. He'd been heading straight there after work two or three nights a week, either to work out or to visit with Luke for a while.
When Jack arrived, Luke was at the front desk with Amir, both looking at a clipboard.
"Hey," Jack said.
Luke looked up and smiled, a casual gesture that struck Jack with surprising warmth. "Hey, yourself. Done for the day?"
"Yeah. You?"
"Almost. I’m reviewing this week's schedule with Amir." Luke made a note on the clipboard. "Making sure we're ready for the weekend rush."
Jack leaned against the desk. "I was thinking about dinner at my place tonight. Nothing fancy."
"Sounds perfect." Luke turned to Amir. "We're good here, right?"
"Yeah, go. Get out of here." Amir took the clipboard. "I'll finish this up."
As they walked to their cars in the parking lot, the evening sun caught Luke's hair, turning it almost white. Jack felt it again—that sense of rightness.
"See you in twenty?" Luke asked, unlocking his truck.
"Make it thirty. I need to stop at the store."
Luke raised an eyebrow. "You cooking?"
"Don't sound so shocked. I can handle pasta."
Luke got into his truck and rolled down the window. "Don't burn the house down."