Page 14 of The Long Way Found

"We were kids," Luke said. "We didn't know what the hell we were doing."

"I knew enough to know I was hurting you."

"Yeah," Luke admitted. "You did. But Jack, that was twenty-four years ago. We survived being teenagers.”

Jack looked at Luke as though waiting for absolution. Luke met his gaze, his own expression open and steady, his breathing slow, as if grounding himself in this fragile peace.

"You forgive me?" Jack asked.

"I forgave you a long time ago," Luke said, having gone through the long, hard process of letting go of resentments, which included this. He blinked slowly, as if it were a period at the end of a long sentence. "West Point must've been intense. Then your career took off. I get it."

Still, Luke resolved to keep an eye out for trouble if he and Jack kept interacting for long. He knew this was emotionally fraught ground. But as he looked across the candlelight at Jack, Luke realized he wanted to find out what this could be—here and now. Even if it wasn’t forever.

"I'm glad you're back," Luke said, nodding. "I'm glad you walked into The Ridge yesterday. I'm glad we're here tonight."

"Me, too," Jack said.

Luke was ready to move on. “Now, tell me about yourself. You’re retired from the Army?”

“Yep. Twenty years. A few deployments in danger zones. Full bird.”

“Excuse me?”

“Full colonel. That was my rank.”

“Were you in Iraq?”

“And Afghanistan. And a couple of places that didn’t make the congressional record or the headlines.”

“Gotcha.”

The waiter appeared and smiled at Luke for a little too long. Luke didn't recognize him, which was unusual for him in Calder Ridge. Most food-service employees were locals or familiar ski bums. But this kid had a polished look—maybe from Denver or California—possibly part of the influx of people seeking work on movie and TV productions in the area.

"Good evening, gentlemen. Can I start you with appetizers?"

"Artichoke dip and crusty bread?” Luke asked Jack, who nodded. "And then I'll have the roast chicken and pasta, but can they make it with light olive oil and no cheese?"

The waiter wrote it down, eyes still on Luke.

"Excellent choice. And for you?" he asked Jack without fully turning toward him.

Jack ordered a medium-rare ribeye and a baked potato with all the fixings.

“Wait, you know what?” Luke said. “We’re at Delmonico’s. I can’t get chicken at Delmonico’s. Bring me a ribeye, too, and a baked potato with no butter or sour cream, please.”

The waiter left.

"That happen often?" Jack asked with a smile.

"What?"

"Our waiter looking at you like you're dessert."

“Occupational hazard.”

"You handled it like a pro," Jack said.

"Years of practice."