Chapter 2
Chapter Two
S omehow, when Sloan Ferguson had envisioned this moment in his mind, it hadn’t happened in slow motion, the sickening knowledge that he wasn’t going to get there fast enough punching him in the gut.
Lance didn’t know he was there, but as his Seeing Eye dog swerved to avoid some asshole in a pickup truck who almost clipped the curb, Lance staggered, his bad leg crumpling a little, and he started to go down.
“Shit!” Sloan sprinted across the sidewalk from the courthouse, where he’d just been sworn in for duty, and tried to get to Lance before he hit the ground.
A man came running from the coffee shop, another from a van that had Rocking W Ranch painted on the side.
None of them made it, and that huge German shepherd barked, warning them—whether to stay away or help, he had no idea. It was a sharp sound, and one that had him skidding to a halt.
“Abby! Side!” Lance called.
The dog pressed close, letting Lance lean on her harness hand, catching his balance. He didn’t go down, but he did stumble out into the street.
“Good job, man. Good job, Abby.” The man from the van smiled as if Lance could see him, nodding. “You did a great job. Both of you.”
“Didn’t feel great,” Lance muttered, his head swiveling as he clearly tried to get his bearings.
“You kept your feet. Didn’t get run over. It was an unfortunate situation. You handled it well. So did Abby. She kept you from getting hit.” The guy looked at him. “Officer, I got the guy’s license plate number.”
“Thanks, I appreciate it. I was a little busy running.” He bit back a nervous chuckle. God, what a clusterfuck. This was not the grand reunion he’d dreamed about.
This was supposed to be a situation where he could reintroduce himself to Lance as a civilian, not his first official day here in uniform.
Lance tilted his head, trying to recognize his voice, he thought. “I didn’t mean to cause a problem.”
“It’s fine. Not a problem. That driver was being an ass.”
“I think I want to go back to the ranch.” Lance’s shoulders had gone tense.
The guy from the van shooed them all away, and Sloan backed off a little, even though he didn’t want to.
“You’re gonna go meet Brick for a cup of coffee. Remember? He’s waiting for you over there.”
The man in question headed back toward the coffee shop, moving in nice and easy. No door-jingling or noisy entry for him.
“I hate this shit, man,” Lance was all red, the blush highlighting the blond beard. “I really do.”
“I know. But it is what it is. Go meet Brick for coffee. I’m going to take a nap in the van. I’ll be here when you’re done. I hear that the cinnamon toast lattes are the best. ”
Lance grinned, and it hurt Sloan to see how the web of scars pulled on his face. “Cinnamon toast lattes. Really?”
“The very best. They have just the right amount of spice and kind of buttery flavor.”
“All right, you sold me. Abby, cross.” Lance turned toward him, almost as if he could see him. “Did you need anything from me, officer?”
“No, sir. I saw what happened. Unless you’d like to press charges for vehicular assault, they’ll just get a ticket.” He wasn’t ready to do this in front of a crowd.
“I don’t want to press charges for nothing. Good day.”
He watched as Lance walked off, only looking away when the man from the van held his hand out.
“I’m Will Collins. I work at the Rocking W. I don’t think I know you.”
“You wouldn’t. I’m new. Sloan. Sloan Ferguson.”
“Officer Ferguson, I really appreciate that you were here to help, and if you could just let that person know that we do a lot of training of wounded warriors here on the square. It’s one of the things that the ranch does. And so I’d appreciate it if they just paid attention a little bit.”
“You have my word.” He glanced over at Lance again. “I hope he’s okay.”
“He’s a strong son of a bitch; he’ll figure it out. He’s had a long row to hoe. There is a lot of stuff to work through, but he’s going to get there. Abby loves him, and she’s convinced that he can do this.”
“Abby is his dog?” He was glad to see Lance had a dog. Sloan had done his fair share of dog training, God knew, and Seeing Eye dogs were at or near the top. Everyone ought to have someone that loved them like a dog did.
God. His hands shook a little at the thought of…what could have happened .
“That’s the dog. She’s a sweetheart, and she’s totally committed to Lance. No worries.”
“That’s great.” He studied the Will guy, wondering what he meant to Lance, if anything, or if he was here in a professional capacity. “So…you work with the rehab?”
“I do. I’m an occupational therapist, a physical therapist, and a sometimes driver. Lance is staying in town, so he needs to be able to get around on days he’s not on the ranch, and it’s Dan’s day off.”
“Ah. Well, I’m glad he has help.” That was what a cop should say, he supposed. He wanted to protest that all Lance needed was him, but that sure hadn’t been the case, had it?
“He does. He’s got a hint of peripheral vision, but it’s not reliable, and he’s got one damaged leg. They wanted to amputate, but he said no.”
“I guess that makes sense, huh?”
The guy shrugged. “You’d think so, wouldn’t you? But…well, I have to be honest, sometimes the amputation is less painful.”
“Yeah?” He walked the guy toward his van, since he’d said he wanted a nap. And he had a few people still milling about on that side of the street he might take a statement from.
“Yep. Limbs that are damaged often require a lot of surgeries, and the nerve damage can be agonizing.”
“That sounds awful, man.” Jesus. Just staying upright was a battle for Lance, and Sloan was proud of him, no matter what their personal issues were.
“Yes, but we all have choices to make. That was one of his, right?”
“Yeah.” Lance had made a hell of a choice leaving him too, and he’d tried to be understanding, but now it was time to take action again.
Sloan got it. He’d still been in, he’d not been able to be in Landstuhl with Lance for any length of time, and he’d been at Fort Liberty when they’d shipped Lance to Cavazos. And then the son of a bitch had disappeared on him.
Thank God he could move from MP to police force and hunt his lover down.
Christ, that sounded stalkery. It wasn’t intended to be. Lance had sent him away because he didn’t want Sloan to have to take care of him. He wasn’t going to stalk, but he was going to put himself in Lance’s path and try again.
“Well, welcome to town, man. Here’s my ride.”
“Have a good nap.” He winked when the guy chuckled, the sound merry.
“I will.” He handed over the paper with the license plate scribbled on it. “Here you go. Gotta take ‘em where you can.”
“You know it,” Sloan took it, then waved.
He turned back to Mike Riviera, the guy who was going to show him around town, show him the ropes.
“Well, happy first day,” Mike said, chuckling.
“Thanks. So much fun.”
Mike grinned. “Come on. I’ll show you all the places in town where you can get free coffee.”
“Wow. That’s pretty cool.” MPs were pretty universally reviled. He was pretty sure cops were also not loved. So, to have folks appreciate him would be… new.
“Yeah. We have a great job. There’s not a ton of crime, there’s a lot of fun parts—visiting the schools, holidays, parades, and people tend to be easygoing…now.”
“‘Now’?” Okay, what had he missed? He’d read a lot of the newspaper archives, had looked at median income and housing costs…
“Oh, there were a few bad apples in town, but they’re gone, and we’re back to gold.”
“Yeah?” Okay, so he needed to dig deeper. “You’ll have to tell me over pizza and a beer sometime this week. ”
“Absolutely! You’ll have to meet my son. He’s ten, and he’s a hoot.”
“I’d like that.” He could totally feed a ten-year-old. God knew he had nieces and nephews. But no beer.
“So would he. He loves to meet new people.” Mike nodded to him. “Come on. Let’s do this.”
It was time.
Lance could wait.