Chapter 4
Chapter Four
S loan headed to the grocery store to get a frozen pizza and a beer.
He’d had the second longest first week of work in his life, save basic training, and he wanted nothing more than to sit his ass down, drink said beer, and think about all the ways his little fantasy of sweeping in and letting Lance know he was in town had failed.
Yeah. That had gone down the proverbial crapper.
He’d only seen the damn man once.
Once.
And that was to watch his dog save him from a hit-and-run.
Jesus.
He rolled his head on his neck, staring blankly at the freezer case.
When he was a kid, there used to be DiGiorno and Totinos and maybe a store brand.
Maybe Tombstone. Now there was a dizzying array of keto, paleo, gluten free, cauliflower crust, and uncured meat pizzas…
Not to mention rising crust this and tavern crust that.
“Abby, stop. ”
Sloan turned his head, his eyes widening. Lance and his dog had walked up, and they were standing in front of the case next to him, the one with the pizza bites and the little bagel pizza things.
Lance tilted his head, bright blue eyes searching for something, looking for all the world as if he were staring right at Sloan.
Then the whoosh of a wheelchair came around the corner, and a guy rolled right up to Lance. “Hey, man. Sorry, I got stuck talking to one of the nurses from the ER.”
Abby wagged at the guy, and Lance turned to smile at him. “That’s okay. Did I get to the right case?”
“One off, but there’s someone standing in front of the other one.” The guy in the chair grinned up at Sloan. “You’re not in the way, man. Don’t worry.”
God, he immediately wanted to run. “Thanks. Just trying to figure out my Friday night supper.”
Lance frowned, eyebrows lowering, head tilted. Sloan liked the little blond beard, if he were being honest. “I’m sorry, but do I know you? You sound like…someone I used to know.”
So not the fantasy, either. Sloan took a deep breath, then nodded, even if Lance couldn’t see it. “Sloan. It’s Sloan, Lance.”
Lance’s face went slack with shock, and he stepped back, causing the dog to sidestep and for him to almost go right down into the lap of the guy in the chair. “What?”
“Shit. Are you okay?” Please God, don’t fall.
“I’m fine,” Lance snapped, those lips tight, cheeks bright pink.
“Sorry.” He sighed. “It’s Sloan, Lance.”
Lance’s eyebrows drew together hard, his scars pulling, eyes rolling in a desperate way that made Sloan a little sick to his stomach. “How? Why?”
“I’m working for the police department.” That was as good as he could come up with. ‘I’m stalking you because I want you back’ seemed like a bad thing to say.
“You’re shitting me.”
“Is this guy dangerous, Lance? I will call the fucking cops, man. I don’t hold with bullshit.”
Lance stopped, head jerking back as if he’d smelled something bad. “Sloan? God, no. No, he would never hurt me.”
Suddenly he realized he’d stopped breathing, and he was a touch dizzy from relief and lack of oxygen. Thank God for that, at least. Lance knew that was a fundamental truth.
“Sorry. I’m Sloan Ferguson.” He held out a hand to the guy.
“Chris Smith.” Chris shook his hand, looking back and forth between him and Lance.
“I—” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I imagine now is a sucky time, but could we talk soon, Lance? We have a lot to catch up on.”
That was the understatement of the century.
“I have—” Lance shrugged, shook his head. “I don’t have a lot of privacy where I’m staying right now. It’s like…a halfway house.”
Lord have mercy. He’d heard all about this, of course. The Rocking W ranch that ran this huge rehab situation had been buying up wrecked houses, renovating them, and then using them as housing while the guys were working to re-enter the economy.
Some folks thought it was amazing. Some thought the vets were a bad influence, acting like the soldiers were hooligans driving down the housing msrket.
Sloan thought that anytime a broken-down man could boost his ego by working, by learning new skills, it was good, but what did he know?
“Coffee? I’d buy you coffee at the coffee shop.” He wasn’t going to let this go. “Hell, beer and pizza tonight. Anything.”
Lance frowned and scratched his cheek, nails digging into the scars a little, and Chris’s expression darkened. “Um. Sure. Okay. But tonight I have a date with the guys at the house and a pack of party pizzas.”
“Yeah. Yeah, that’s fair. I have a beer and DiGiorno night planned myself. Long week at work.” He ate Lance up with his gaze, trying to get his fix for a few days. “Sunday, maybe?”
“Yeah, okay.”
“Should I pick you up?”
“Here.” Lance handed him a smartphone. “Put your number in as Sloan. I’ll text and let you know.”
“I can do that.” He tapped in his contact information before putting the phone back in Lance’s hand.
Chris raised an eyebrow at him, and Sloan shrugged. He had no shame. Not where Lance was concerned.
The guy bit back a smile and shook his head. “So. Party pack. Can you open the door, Lance?”
“Oh. Yeah.” Lance moved over one case, then felt along until he could open the freezer door. Chris grabbed out a pack of pizzas and put them in the basket on his lap.
“Bingo.” Lance grinned, the scars pulling hard. “I want to toss them in next time.”
“Like beep baseball shopping.”
He blinked, then bit back a chuckle. He wasn’t sure if he got to laugh at that or not.
God, he was a moron.
“So, I’ll text you, Sloan.”
“Thanks.” Thanks? Ugh. Suave.
“Abby, walk.” Lance and Abby moved off, Chris rolling behind them. Sloan sighed, grabbing some kind of pizza before heading to the beer section. His phone beeped seconds later, and he grabbed it, but it wasn’t Lance.
It was his sister, making a goofy face in a selfie.
He sent back a pic of the pizza box.
Can I call?
He sighed again, sending back a yes.
He answered on the first ring, then stood there, not wanting to juggle phone, pizza, and Shiner.
“Hey, bro. You should get the brick oven one from Rao’s.”
“I am not paying that much for a frozen pizza.”
“No. Well, what are you gonna pay for?” She cracked up. “So. Hey, I miss you. The kids miss you. When are you coming home?”
He was going back to Santa Fe when he could convince Lance to come with him. No question. “You know, I can’t come back until I get done with what I’m doing. I have a job. I’ve rented a little house. It’s okay.”
“Have you found out if he’s there yet, even?”
“I just talked to him. He was in the grocery store.”
“Jesus, really? How did he look? Was he nice to you? Was he glad to see you? I mean, shit, Sloan. You just ran into him? Just like that? Was he by himself? Does that mean he can see?”
“Those are a lot of questions in a row.” He chuckled and shook his head. “He can’t see. He wasn’t by himself. He was with someone who’s in the house he’s rehabbing in.”
And he looked good. Not perfect, not the beautiful, damn near ethereal guy he’d hooked up with years ago. Not even the sort of idealistic soldier he’d fallen in love with. They’d moved from hopeful to battle-hardened and weary.
And then somewhere after a mission gone fucking terrible, they’d both shifted to ashamed.
Sloan was man enough to admit that when he’d seen all the damage, Lance lying there in the gurney with more red than white showing, he’d been horrified.
Lance had been covered in bandages everywhere, blood everywhere, stitches, and…
just this horrific damage. A body was not meant to stand up to flames and sh rapnel.
He hadn’t walked away, but he had mourned for the beautiful man who was gone. He was a little worried Lance had known that somehow, and that was why his lover had refused to see him more than once after he’d regained consciousness.
Maybe somewhere Lance had heard him cry over those scars and everything.
“Was he nice to you?”
He realized all of a sudden he was still standing in the grocery store, phone to his ear, a million miles away. Lord, maybe he needed ice cream too. That really sounded good. Maybe butter pecan?
“He…he was. He was polite, shocked, but he agreed to see me on Sunday and let me explain.”
“And how’s that going to go? Dear dude, I’m madly in love with you, and I can’t get over you even though you didn’t want to see me. So I moved from New Mexico to Bum Fuck Texas, so that I could become a cop so I could watch you. That’s not creepy at all.”
“I think I’m gonna go for I knew that there were a bunch of rehabbing vets in the area and it made me want to come and be a cop here, okay?” Jesus.
“Now that’s better than the stalker cop part, because that’s weird.”
“I didn’t know for sure he was going to be here. That’s not stalker, that’s hopeful.”
“Dude, your house here in New Mexico is empty. You knew he had to be there.”
“I hoped. I hoped a lot.” And he’d been confident that if Lance hadn’t been here, he would be coming through.
This was the sort of thing that Lance would be into—relatively small town, dudes who were helping other dudes get by.
And this was the only situation with a reputation of being somewhat gay-friendly.
It hadn’t been a long shot, but it had just been a shot .
It hadn’t been a sure thing at all.
“It also happens to be the first place I got offered a job, huh? I’m not really a stalker, Grace.”
“Yeah, I know. It’s still kinda…”
“Not skeezy.”
“No. No, not that. Just weird. But I love you, and you love him. So.”
“Thanks, sis. What about you? How goes your dogged pursuit of Jordan Duran?” Grace had been in love with the guy since high school and was working to get him to see her as more than a friend.
“Right now I’m letting him miss me.” She sighed. “He’s— well, he’s not a dawg, really, but he’s a terrible flirt. And I’m tired. Not to mention that I don’t want the babies to fall in love with a guy and then…have it be a mistake. Again.”
“I bet.” He chuckled. “You’ll get it. I know you will.”
“I hope so. I’m not sure if I should just give up or not.”
“We’re Fergusons, sis. We don’t give up.”
She snorted. “Not according to Dad. Okay. Wish me luck, and I’ll do the same for you.”
“Done.” He sighed. “I think I need ice cream too.”
“Then you totally need it.” She laughed right out loud. “And I’ll join you. Wanna play video games remotely when you get home?”
“Yeah.” Having her support meant the world.
He could do this.
Just not tonight.