Page 16 of The Long Way Found

“No,” Luke said. “Not at all.”

“OK. Your turn,” Jack said, flipping the conversation back on him.

“Totally gay and very single,” Luke said. “I have good friends to keep me busy—and of course, The Ridge.”

“Right, you clearly love it. Did you buy it and renovate it? I don’t remember it being that nice or popular back in the day.”

Luke explained that he did not own The Ridge; he managed it with the full support of the owner, a foundation affiliated with the university. “I deal with their property manager, never the board,” Luke said. “He treats me well and lets me run the place like it’s my own. We still have to make a profit, and the money part gets tricky. I’m planning a big fundraiser in a few months. It’s crucial to our future.”

A pause.

“It has your name on it—like the whole town.”

“You remember my great-great-grandfather discovering the silver strike in the 1800s… and then losing a fortune long before I was born.”

“No, I remember that. Of course,” Jack said. “But the details are fuzzy.”

“That’s about it,” Luke said. “My family name is everywhere, but I have no claim to any of it. I own a house and make a nice living. But my only big money came from Calvin Klein, and I put most of that up my nose and used the rest to pay for rehab.”

“I’m sorry,” Jack said. “I didn’t mean to pry.”

“You didn’t. We’re catching up. You’re divorced and possibly bi, and I’m a recovering alcoholic. That’s part of my story. I don’t talk about it much, but I don’t hide it either.”

They finished their steaks and Jack his second beer. When the table was cleared, Luke flashed a half-smile, enough to draw Jack’s gaze again.

“I keep looking below your eyes,” Jack said. “Rude of me.”

“Below my eyes?” Luke asked.

“To your lips.”

“My lips?” Luke said, turning it back on Jack. “I could say the same about your lips. And your eyes. They were always double trouble for me.”

“Maybe not anymore,” Jack said, rising and excusing himself. “Men’s room.”

Luke watched him walk away toward the hostess stand and restrooms.

Luke was certain of one thing: He wanted Jack Garrison tonight. He wanted Jack on him, in him, all over him.

Twenty-four years of wondering—could Jack be different now? Could this be something new and revived, or just a fun night of hot sex and a partial reconciliation?

Only one way to find out.

Jack returned and asked, “Shall we?”

“Let me get the check.”

“I already took care of that,” Jack said, helping Luke on with his coat.

Outside, the world had gone quiet and cold.

Snow fell in thick, soft flakes, turning everything blue-white under the parking lot lights. Cars and pine boughs were already blanketed. It was the kind of Colorado winter night when sound disappeared, and the air itself seemed to glow—not merely bright, but luminous. Dark blue and silver, cold and implausibly picturesque.

They walked to Luke's car and stopped, facing each other.

Snow caught in Jack's dark crewcut, on the shoulders of his jacket. His breath clouded between them.

Luke started to say, "I had a great⁠—"