Chapter 11
Chapter Eleven
S loan wanted to take Lance out someplace that was not the coffee shop.
Hell, he’d heard all about Rory taking the guys to El Mariachi, and Sloan had to admit he was a little peeved he hadn’t tried taking Lance someplace out of his comfort zone.
But then, he made good Mexican food.
Ben had told him all about the bitch who’d attacked them at the damn grocery store. She was lucky it was Ben and not him who’d had been there, because she might have been nothing more than a grease spot when all was said and done.
Okay.
Maybe a farmers market? Yeah, maybe they could go to a farmers market. That was outside, though, with uneven ground and tons of things to knock over.
God, it was hard to know what to do with somebody who couldn’t see, because he wanted Lance to enjoy himself, be able to relax, have fun. They couldn’t go to the movies because all Lance could do was hear stuff and eat popcorn, and he wasn’t super good at explaining what happened.
Lance didn’t seem like the bar kind of guy. They’d never gone to bars when they were together before. They’d played cards for hours, days. They’d read a lot too, which was weird but true.
But that was sort of out—cards and books. So…
He couldn’t really ask Lance to go throw a football, which was another hobby that they’d had in the service.
What if they’d went to the lake? Lakes were cool. Swimming was all right. Dogs liked water.
He tapped his foot, eyes on the wall as he thought about this. This could be a plan.
They could go to the lake. Hell, they could even go camping, although he wasn’t sure about that leg.
If Lance got down on the ground, could he get back up?
What about sleeping on the ground?
They could sleep in the truck. He could get a blow-up bed so they could sleep in the bed of the vehicle. He’d say they could go away for the Fourth of July weekend, but he was working.
Lord, that had to be a situation fraught with danger. A town that was chock-full of wounded warriors and guys with PTSD and fireworks and dogs all in a mix.
No, he was dreading that.
Maybe they should go away before. A long weekend or even a short weekend? Christ, he was an idiot.
But he was warming to the idea of camping down at the lake.
His phone buzzed, Lance’s name popping up. Every time Lance texted him first, it gave him this ridiculous little thrill.
Hey, man.
Hey, what’s up?
Nothing bored. Thought I’d see if you’re busy.
Nope.
His phone rang, and he damn near dropped it.
“Hey.”
“Hey, honey. How’s it going?”
“I’m losing my mind, Sloan.” Lance blew out a gusty sigh. “I need out of here. Want to go for a drive or something?”
Holy shit. Lance was asking him to go out and do things. It was like his thinking about it had conjured the man up.
“Hell, yeah. You want me to come pick you up?” They could get ice cream at the end or something.
“Do you mind? Because I swear to God, man, I could use a little company. I just want out of the house.”
Sloan stood and grabbed his wallet before he went to stomp on his boots. He still had on in his jeans and, well, he was wearing a Sesame Street T-shirt, but that was okay, because it wasn’t like Lance could see him.
“I’m on my way, meet me out front. Do you need me to bring anything for Abby?”
“No. You know she likes to go. She loves you, so…just, yeah, thanks.”
“Anytime.”
He hung up and stood there for just half a second before he grabbed his gimme cap.
Lance had called.
Lance had called him to come on out because he needed out.
It was all he could do not to speed on his way over to the house. The last thing he needed was for Ben or Jackie or someone to give him a ticket.
Couldn’t he see that?
“Oh, come on man, I just wanted to go see my…friend?” They weren’t even friends with benefits; they were ex-lovers. But they were friends .
He’d told himself he’d accept whatever Lance offered, and he didn’t need to make himself a liar.
He pulled up in front of the house and was tickled to see Lance head straight for him. The man was moving better all the time and was more confident with Abby, which he thought made Abby more comfortable, too, because she walked right up to the truck and sat, wagging happily.
“Look at you two. Everything all right?”
There was stress written in Lance’s face, clear as if it were an open book. “Let’s just go. I’ll explain. It’s not me. Everything’s fine with me.”
Oh, that was a blessing.
He got Lance loaded up, got Abby sitting in the back, and then he got them moving toward the golf course. The county golf course was quiet, especially in the evenings, and they could just drive around and talk without anyone fussing.
“Okay, so what’s up?” No one had ever accused him of not being the nosiest man alive. That was one of the reasons that he was a good cop. He got his nose all up in everybody’s business.
“Stan’s having a bad day, and—” Lance blushed and it actually looked uncomfortable, how dark his cheeks went.
“You know, I’m just, I’m just not good at this.
It’s not even that I don’t empathize with him, because you know I do.
I just— I just, I don’t know. I guess I wanna shake him and say stop it, and I know that’s not fair and not right.
And you know what? I don’t care. Not right now.
I really… Right now I needed him to shut up.
And so I called you because I had to get out of there before I said something that would hurt his feelings.
” Lance shook his head, shoulders drooping, all hangdog.
“Because that’s fucking mean and I’m not that person.
I don’t want to be that person. But goddamn it, I wanted him to shut up. ”
Sloan nodded, turning out onto the highway.
“Dude, that’s fair. That’s totally fair.
Just because you got hurt, and you know how he’s feeling doesn’t mean that you are automatically required or able to put up with somebody else’s shit, right?
Sometimes, sometimes you just can only put up with your own shit. ”
That made perfect sense to him.
And God knew that Stan deserved to rant and rave, but Dan was paid to listen to it, and more importantly, Dan was trained to do it. That was a situation fraught with danger, and the last thing Lance needed was to feel responsible if Stan did something stupid.
“Right on. And sometimes I don’t want to put up with shit at all. I just want to drive around with you and listen to music and talk about nothing for an hour or five.”
“Fair enough. I’m your man.” His gut clenched, and the yearning that broke out at saying those words damn near killed him.
Lance titled his head. “Yeah. I appreciate it, Sloan.”
“No worries. What do you want to listen to? I have streaming radio.”
“Something like nineties alternative. I love that shit.”
“Okay, cool.” He turned on the grunge station. Whatever Lance needed to decompress worked for him.
Lance turned his face to the window. “Where are we headed?”
“The golf course? It’s deserted at this time of day, and I figure we can just drive around.”
“That sounds great.” Lance relaxed visibly as Matchbox Twenty came on, and Sloan let him, humming along but not pressuring him to talk.
Soon they were singing—a grasshopper and a bullfrog, both of them going at it, at the top of their lungs.
He had to admit, it was easier than talking, than sharing any real feelings, but he knew at some point Lance would tell him shit. Sooner or later it would bust out, and Sloan was trying to be ready.
It was a hard thing to balance, because he was so not a patient type.
He pulled in at one of the parking areas and stopped, wondering if they should get out and walk Abby. The air was a little cooler since the sun was going down, and they could wander.
“Want to stretch Abby’s legs?”
“Are we allowed to let her piddle on their perfect grass?” Lance asked, lips twisting.
“What they don’t know…” And he happened to know a friend of Rory’s was the head of the board at the country club…
“Yeah, yeah. Sounds good, man. I like the idea of being able to wander without anyone staring at me.”
“I bet.” Lance had to feel the weight of people against him, even if he couldn’t see it. Maybe he even felt it more than most because he didn’t have anything else to focus on most of the time.
He could hear people breathing down his neck.
That had to be the weirdest fucking thing.
They headed out on the deserted course, Lance letting Abby go and trusting him enough to hold his arm. He felt each and every finger and it made him ache.
Abby ran around, sniffing, and he pretty much gave Lance the play-by-play. “Man, she’s peed like four times. This place must be a minefield for a dog’s nose.” He chuckled, because she looked like such a puppy, veering off here, tail up, sniffing there, tail wagging. “Her tail is like an antenna.”
“She loves to explore. She’s a really good girl.” Lance squeezed his arm. “Thank you for this, man. I needed it.”
“No problem. I was just rattling around the rental anyway.” He loved to do DIY shit at his house, but since he was renting, he had to leave it like it was. So he read a lot, tried to beat the music boss on Luigi’s Haunted whatever, and watched a lot of movies.
Oh, and he jacked off like ten times a day when he was off duty…
“I asked Dan if he was interested in you, you know.”
“You did what?”
“I asked Dan if he’d like to date you.”
“Like in an abstract do-you-think-he’s-good-looking way?” Because why the hell else would Lance ask that of anyone?
“Because I wanted you to have a chance with someone less broken than me. He told me no.”
“Oh, well, good for him.” Even Dan had to see how desperate Sloan was for Lance. “I would have turned him down.”
“That’s why he said. He said that you loved me and to stop being a drama queen.”
Sloan barked out a hard, unamused laugh. “Good for him. Because it’s true.”
“I don’t know if I can, Sloan.”
“Can what, honey?” He needed to know what he was dealing with. What did Lance think he was incapable of?