Page 4 of The Long Way Found

That lie made it easier for him to move. The truth was harder to admit: that he wanted it to be true, that Luke would be there, that Luke would still remember as much as he did.

He drove the rented Jeep to the gym and sat in the parking lot for a full minute, watching the snow pelt his windshield. This was nothing like the self-image he had cultivated of the conquering hero who plans every step, complete with backups, just in case. But he’d simply been unable to send an email to Luke in the weeks leading up to this.

Garrison, you’ve led incursions into hostile territory and testified before Congress, he told himself. You can send one email. Just. Press. SEND.

But he couldn’t do it. He’d failed, and now he was here.

He could tell himself it was fine all he wanted, but he knew better. And he’d been trained to avoid letting gaps like that get in his way.

He should have planned what to say to Luke, but thinking about it shut his brain down. He saw too many ways it could go wrong. What if Luke was angry and cursed him out? What if it was immediately obvious that Luke hadn’t thought about Jack in decades?

It’s only your high school boyfriend, Garrison. Get over yourself.

He could keep replaying scenarios all day, but Jack finally admitted the truth to himself: Desire had driven him back. He had to see Luke, had to get this over with. Then he could make a plan.

He adjusted his demeanor—the scarred face of a combat veteran and former Golden Gloves champion—and squared himself to face unfinished business. Yes, that’s a simple way to look at it. Not a crisis, not a burden.

He ran it through the same checklist he'd used in the field: investigate, assess, prioritize, execute.

He stepped inside.

The humidity hit him immediately, thick and warm. Then Jack looked up, and there he was, bathed in the bright light from the ceiling.

Luke.

Even more devastating now, Luke seemed a little taller than Jack remembered. His blond, curly hair was shorter than it was back then. Luke cut an impressive figure, his red polo shirt almost losing the battle against his powerful chest and shoulders. Luke turned to high-five a teenager, his movements and demeanor so naturally pleasant and confident, the genuine article that so many others tried to fake with bravado. Jack's gaze instinctively dropped to Luke's ass—still round and firm, still absolutely hypnotizing.

Breathe, Garrison. You've been through worse.

"Holy shit," Luke said, walking toward him with an effortless, graceful stride. That smile. Those biceps. "Jack Garrison?"

"Hi." It was all Jack could manage. The word felt like gravel in his throat.

"Hi?" Luke laughed, warm and easy. "That's all you've got?"

Jack's mind went blank. He'd commanded troops under fire, briefed generals, and negotiated with hostile forces. But standing here, with Luke Calder smiling at him like that, he couldn't string two words together.

He heard himself say something about the university, the job, and the need to get going. Luke offered a tour of the gym. Jack mumbled an excuse and quickly grabbed an idea to save face.

“I wanted to stop by and see if you were here to say hello. I heard you work here, and, uh, I’ll definitely need to get a workout in at some point.”

That wasn’t too bad, he thought. Better than staring at Luke with his mouth open and eyes wide. It explained the deer-in-the-headlights look plausibly. Best he could do, given the situation.

The conversation was unfolding around him while his brain cataloged everything: the way Luke's voice had matured, the confidence in his movements, and the overwhelming evidence of his beauty.

"Let's catch up this week," Luke said. "Maybe grab dinner?"

That invitation felt like both a promise and a test. Was he excited or frightened? Or both?

Jack heard himself agree. Then he was walking out, legs moving on autopilot, Luke's eyes burning into his back.

In the Jeep, he gripped the steering wheel and cursed.

He was rattled. He'd lost control, instantly. He'd walked into the ambush he'd been avoiding for twenty-four years. What else could he expect? The one time he didn’t plan an incursion down to the last possible detail.

He put the Jeep in gear, set his jaw, and vowed never to let that happen again. He had a mission here, and he couldn't be thrown off like that.

But as he drove back to the lodge through the heavy snow, he recalled the instant paralysis that had seized him moments earlier and knew he was lying to himself again.