Page 61 of The Long Way Found

Jack was generous in bed. Focused and dominant, he gave tirelessly.

But it was always about control.

And staying independent.

“I will do to you,” but never “we will do together.”

And Luke wondered: If Jack couldn't let go in bed, could he ever truly let go anywhere else?

Could he ever really let Luke in?

Luke rolled onto his side, pressing closer to Jack's warmth.

He loved this man. He'd loved him since he was sixteen years old, and he loved him now—maybe even more, because now he knew him as a man, not as a memory of a boy.

But loving someone and building a life with them were two different things.

And Luke wasn't sure which one was being offered.

He closed his eyes and tried to sleep, but the thoughts kept circling.

Tomorrow, he told himself. Tomorrow we'll talk.

But even as he thought it, he knew he wouldn't bring it up.

Because he was afraid.

Afraid that if he asked the real questions—Do you love me? Can you see a future with me? Are you staying? Jack might not be able to answer them.

Or worse, he might answer honestly.

And Luke wasn't ready to hear it.

So he lay there in the dark, Jack's arms around him, feeling the distance between them grow even as he felt Jack’s steady heartbeat against his back.

CHAPTER 23

LUKE

Luke stood in his kitchen Sunday evening, pulling ingredients from the fridge.

Jack was coming over for dinner. Just the two of them. No distractions, no interruptions. Marley was already fed and settled on his bed in the living room.

Luke had spent the afternoon thinking about what he was going to say and how to say it. He loved Jack. He'd probably never stopped loving him, not really. He was tired of holding it in, tired of waiting for the perfect moment, and tired of wondering whether Jack felt the same way.

Maybe Jack did. Maybe he didn't. But Luke needed to say it anyway.

His sponsor, Suze, had said, "You can't control how people receive your truth. You can only control whether you tell it."

So tonight, he would tell it.

Luke had spent the afternoon thinking about Friday night. About the intensity of it. About the way Jack had left Saturday morning—a quick kiss, out the door, back to his controlled world.

The pattern was becoming clear.

And Luke needed to say something about it.

Because biting his tongue to keep the peace wasn’t really working for him. Giving subtle clues was as unfair to Jack as it was ineffective. It was time to man up and be direct about what he wanted and needed. If Jake ended up baling again, he’d have to live with that again.