Under The Mistletoe (John & Luke - Pt 2)

Chapter 28

"John!"

John was halfway down the stairs before it registered in his mind that he had fled the bedroom, the envelope clutched in his hand, tears streaming. His thoughts collided, crashing and spinning, as fragments of Luke's story hit him randomly with visions of the Jaguar smashing through the guardrail...rolling toward a fatal drop off...then Luke wrapped up in Bob's arms, kissing and caressing...then Luke in the car again, trapped...freezing to death as he managed to write out his final goodbye to John...

Reality of the events tried to grab hold in John's mind but he fought it off.

"John!"

He could Luke coming after him, racing down the hall, then the stairs. John didn't know where he was going until he was suddenly standing motionless before the fireplace in the living room.

"John..." Luke came across the room but stopped when he reached the sofa. "John, I'm sorry," he choked on a sob.

"What's going on?" Mitch entered the living room, pausing just inside the door. Sharon was at his side a moment later.

Luke didn't acknowledge them, his full focus on John. "I'm sorry...I had no right to ask you to marry me before I told you everything." His voice broke with his tears. "I-I didn't know what would happen to us, John...I needed that memory...I needed to hear you say you would marry me, see the excitement and happiness in your eyes. For that one moment..." he cried quietly. "...have everything I've ever wanted." His breath shuddered and a sob slipped free. "But it wasn't fair to you. If you..." he choked on another sob. "...if you don't want to marry me anymore, I...I understand. But please...don't throw away those words," he cried softly. "Please, John..."

The light of the fire distorted and blurred, the heat rising up to warm John's wet face. He squeezed the envelope in his fist, crumpling it in his hand. "I don't want your final words," he trembled with an anguished sob—and tossed the envelope into the flames.

"John..." A heartbroken cry fell from Luke's lips. He sank to the sofa and buried his face in his hands.

John turned around slowly and stared at him, then looked at his parents standing in the archway—both with tears in their eyes, uncertainty and fear etched across their faces. John swallowed thickly and walked over to Luke and sat down on the edge of the coffee table before him. His hands slid around Luke's head and he pressed his lips to his hair. "If you something to say to me, baby," he whispered, his voice shaking. "You can tell me yourself."

A shudder running through him, Luke slowly raised his head, his eyes red and wet. "What?"

John stroked his fingers through Luke's hair and kissed him. "I don't ever want to hear your final words, Luke. I don't want to know what you were thinking while you were..." he pressed his lips tight, sobs gripping his body. "...while you were lying there...slipping away from me...and taking my whole fucking world with you. I don't ever want to know what that goodbye feels like." He pressed his head to Luke's brow. "Those words...I wasn't meant to receive them that way. You were meant to say them to me, while we're lying in bed...or walking down the street...or..." he glanced at his parents and fresh tears spilled over. "...or spending Christmas with our family."

Luke took hold of John's hands and kissed them softly, his lips pressed to the silver band on John's left hand. "And...and the...other?" Luke whispered, trembling.

His warm, uneven breath shuddering into Luke's hair, John murmured, "He saved your life, Luke. If it wasn't for Bob...you wouldn't be here now..." He swallowed hard and squeezed his eyes shut, kissing Luke's head. "I wouldn't have gotten to hear you say you love me...hear you ask me to marry you...I wouldn't have this ring or be engaged to most fucking awesome guy in the whole world." He lifted Luke's face and wiped away his tears. "He didn't just save your life, Luke...he saved mine..." he looked at his parents. "All of ours." He kissed his lips. "I don't care how he did it, Luke. All that fucking matters to me is that you're here. You're alive." He pulled Luke into a hug. "As far as I'm concerned—Bob is forever golden." He drew back and cleared his throat, a smile forming. "And it you think you're getting this ring back—you better put up your dukes and get ready to rumble."

A thick, shaky laugh escaped Luke. "If you hit anything like your dad...no way I'm fighting you." He kissed John and smiled. "You can keep the ring."

♦

Mitch stood up at the head of the dinner table and picked up his glass of wine. His gaze swept lovingly over his family. "We have much to be grateful for this Christmas," he said. He looked at Luke. "An abundance. The Lord has blessed us greatly. And most of those blessings have revolved around one man." A deep sadness crept into his eyes. "Whom I regret is not here to share this day with us."

John slid his fingers into Luke's hand and squeezed. Regardless his uncertainties concerning his dad's true feelings for Bob, John wished with all his heart that Bob was there with them today. His dad was right—Bob belonged in their lives, in their family.

Two days later, as John and Luke packed up John's car to head back to school, Mitch met John on the porch and motioned him to take a seat on the steps. He withdrew the small gold box with delicate silver ribbon that contained the pocket watch he'd purchased as Bob's Christmas gift.

"You're not far from New York," he said quietly. "I know you and Luke are going to look him up. Do you think you could give this to him?" He handed John the gift. "And extend our deepest gratitude for all he's done?" His dad's words squeezed with emotion.

John stared at the gold box. His dad had chosen the pocket watch with golden wings because they had looked like angel wings. "Dad..." he whispered, his throat knotting. "Maybe you should be the one..."

"No, John," Mitch murmured with a slight tremor to his voice. "I shouldn't."

John looked at him—and wanted to cry when he saw the depth of anguish and confusion in his blue eyes. His dad didn't trust himself to see Bob again, and he was too good of a man—too good of a husband and father—to jeopardize the sanctity of his family. John nodded and blinked back his tears. "Yeah, dad," he said thickly. "I can do that."

Mitch rubbed his hand over John's hair and kissed his head. "You're a good son, John. You, your mother, and Luke...you mean everything to me and you will always come first, before all else." He touched his brow to John's head and whispered, "Including myself."

John leaned against him as his dad wrapped his arm around his shoulders. Movement by the car caught his eye and he spotted Luke leaning against the side, watching them. Luke's words from last Thanksgiving surfaced in John's mind--Sometimes I would see you outside with your dad, sitting on the porch steps and just talking...laughing. I would've given up every one of these fucking trophies just to know how that felt.

Lifting his head, John wiped his eyes and smiled at the superstar of his dreams. "Well, don't just stand there looking sexy as hell," John called. "Come join the pow-wow."

A smile split Luke's handsome face and he pushed away from the car, walked up the path to the porch, and took his rightful place at John's side on the front steps of their family home.