Chapter 12
Chapter Twelve
W hoever invented yoga was a sadist.
There was no other explanation for it.
Not only was the jackass who invented yoga a sadist, but whoever it was who invented Will, his physical therapist, was also a sadist. And undoubtedly evil, because they’d given birth to the Antichrist.
“I hate you, and I hate downward dogs.”
“It’s not really a downward dog,” Will explained. “It’s modified, because your leg isn’t quite where it needs to be, and?—”
“Shut up. Did I fucking ask you? No, I did not fucking ask you.” His shoulders were loving the stretch, even as his thighs screamed.
“If you can cuss that loud, you’re not breathing near deep enough. Slow it down a little bit.”
“You know, as soon as I stand up, you’re going to die.” It only seemed fair to warn the bastard.
“You guys keep making those promises, and, you know, somehow I’m still here. Breathe.” Will’s hand shifted his hips, and the immense pressure in his legs increased. “You’re holding the poses way longer than you could even a month ago.”
“So how come they don’t hurt any less than they hurt a month ago?” Because he didn’t feel as if he was getting better at this.
“I don’t know, man; maybe you’re just a giant pussy.”
“Oh, you’re so you’re going to wish you’d never said that. I’m pretty sure that you’re not allowed to do yoga and call somebody that in the same room.”
“Who made that rule?” Will shifted him again, and the stretch in his legs eased, leaving him gasping.
“No doubt some hippie from Austin.”
That got him a soft chuckle. “All right, that’s probably not only reasonable, but fair. I have to be honest with you though, I never thought you would be able to get as far as you did right now. When you got here, I thought that body is never going to bend, and look at you, you’re bending.”
Will helped him to stand, and he panted, his whole world swinging wildly. No fair.
“I’m going to show you bending,” Lance wheezed. He was going to eat the son of a bitch and spit him out in little chunks, which was really a gross thought.
And the last thing he wanted to do was get off his feet because Sloan was cooking tonight. In fact, Sloan was picking him up. He had a new audiobook for them to listen to, and Sloan was going to make pasta. Spaghetti and meatballs.
He was so ready. It wasn’t something he was going to be able to eat in public. To be honest, that didn’t have a whole lot to do with the fact that he was blind. He’d been kind of crappy at eating spaghetti and meatballs in public when he could see. But blind?
Man, he was going to need a bib.
But at Sloan’s, he could take his shirt off and eat without a single concern. In fact, that thought made him smile .
“What are you grinning for?” Will asked, easing him back to standing. “Arms up, inhale. Down, exhale.”
He did as instructed, knowing he would do four or five rounds. “Spaghetti and meatballs.”
“Is that some weird euphemism?”
“Nope.” He breathed in, lifting his chest and lowering his shoulders. “It’s what I’m having for supper. Homemade. Not out of a can or a bag.”
“Dude, can I come? And forward fold.”
“Nope.” He folded. Ugh.
“Nice, nice man. Just relax into it this time. You’re almost done, and you’re doing great. Just let your lower back relax.”
“Trying.”
“Okay, where does it hurt?”
“Definitely my back.”
“Well, we can fix that.” Will put a couple of blocks under his hands and propped him up there and suddenly Lance could breathe and relax. And he let out a hard breath, because it felt so fucking good he wanted to die a little bit.
“Rock on, rock on. We got it. Just hang there for a bit. Pretty soon we’re going to just let it all melt onto the floor, and we’re just going to lay here until we’re dead.”
“I’m pretty done laying here.” He was wrung out like a dishrag.
“You haven’t even started the after-the-yoga part.”
“It’s the hot tub, man. I love that. I can’t though.
Sloan’s coming to pick me up.” He wanted Sloan to meet Luke, at least. See what his world was.
It was getting bigger. This world. It was never going to be gigantic again.
But he was beginning to inhabit more than just this room and his bedroom at the house.
He felt pretty confident in Sloan’s little house and the coffee shop.
Getting around the little downtown wasn’t easy, but it was doable.
Especially on Sundays when everything was closed .
Will eased them back up to standing. “You’re not supposed to be thinking. You’re supposed to be all Zen and yoga-fried and just not thinking.”
“I don’t understand how that works, man. How can you think about nothing?” He didn’t get the whole acknowledge-your-thoughts-but-send-them-off-in-the-lake-like-little-boats idea.
“You got a good point. I don’t know. I just know that’s what you’re supposed to be shooting for. Personally, I only get that with pot.” Will chuckled.
“Listen to you.”
“What? I didn’t say I smoked it here in Texas, because that’s illegal, and I would never do things that were illegal.” Oh, he did love Will’s robot voice.
Sloan must be there.
“Where I’m from, New Mexico, it’s totally legal,” Sloan said.
“Yeah, we’re never gonna get Luke and Matt out of Texas. They’re like stuck here permanently, and I like this job. So I’m going to have to just continue to remember pot fondly in a totally legal sort of way, officer.”
“Are you all done or should I go sit and wait in the truck?”
“He has to bubble in the hot tub. I don’t suppose you want to join him?” Will asked.
“I don’t have swim trunks under my blue jeans, so that’s probably inappropriate.”
“Well, you can sit and talk to him while he bubbles. Then next time, bring a pair of swim trunks with you, and you can bubble with him. You’ll be bubbled together.”
“I like that idea, man. My leg gets sore sometimes.”
Lance could almost feel Will vibrate. “You got some scar tissue?”
“And a little arthritis.” Sloan’s tone was wry. He knew that inflection. That was Sloan, deflecting.
“Go, bubble, Lance. I’m gonna look at Sloan’s leg.”
He grinned. Of course Will was going to do that. “Abby, come.”
Abby came right to him, pressing against his leg to put her harness handle in his hand. “Okay. Let’s go to the hot tub, girl.” He knew the way from the mat area.
“Get your pants off, Sloan,” Will said.
“Hey, that’s my line,” Lance called.
He did love that little gasp that Sloan gave him. So he was grinning as he headed toward the hot tub, his cheeks all warm.
The room with the swimming pool and the hot tub was always a little disconcerting with the echoes and the weird way the splashing bounced on the tiles when he walked in. Still, he did it, and as soon as the door shut behind him, he heard a couple of guys call, “Hey, Lance,” and “I’m coming, Lance”.
Then he heard. “Good girl, Abby.”
“Hey, Lance, I was bubbling with Luke. It’s Rory.”
“Hey, Mr. Rory, you’re out of work early.” Rory was a lawyer—one of those big-in-a-small-town lawyers, somebody who wouldn’t really be anybody in the Metroplex.
But here he was a big turd in a teeny tiny pond.
And Rory knew it, which made him amusing.
“You know it. There was nothing good to do—no land to buy, no letters to dictate, no trouble or money to make. And I thought, well, I could stay here and pretend to work, but there were no billable hours to be had, so we shut down the office and sent everybody home, and I’m out here soaking my bones. ”
Rory led him to the hot tub. “You’ve got three steps, remember?”
He nodded. He remembered, but it was good to have the reminder. Three steps, one big step, then on to the hot tub step .
His hand was put on the railings. “There you go. You want me to just put one of the dog beds down for Abby.”
“Do you mind?”
“Not at all.”
He loved that they had waterproofed dog beds here in the pool area for the dogs. Seriously, how cool was that? This place was like a mini magical universe.
No wonder it was so hard to leave.
He stepped into the hot water, the bubbles around his ankles so damn weird. He never remembered being able to feel the hairs on his legs moving, but he could now.
He could feel the bubbles pop; he could smell the chlorine from the pools—it bordered on overwhelming.
Rory helped him get settled, and then he heard the splash of Rory sitting. “There’s just me and Luke in the tub. Well, and you now.”
“How’s it going, man?” Luke asked, and he nodded.
“Good, I did yoga. There’s going to be spaghetti tonight. Sloan’s here. Will’s looking at his leg.” He hoped that was cool. He figured Will wouldn’t have offered, if it wasn’t.
“Yeah? Spaghetti sounds good. Matty’s cooking steaks. We told him we’d come and hang with him.”
“Yum.” He hadn’t quite figured out a classy way to cut steak up. He sank deeper into the water, the heat going up to his neck. “I want to talk to you about getting him a support dog. He has nightmares, and Abby could use the friend.”
There was a moment of silence and then Luke said, “Sure, no problem. He just needs to fill out some paperwork, and we’ll get him in to see our therapist here and get the ball rolling. Is he on any disability?”
“Fifteen percent.”
“That’ll do. Is he going to come in once Will’s done with him?”
“He doesn’t have any swim trunks,” he explained .
“Babe, could you run and grab some swim trunks for Lance’s man so he can come sit with us? You’re just so much faster.”
Rory snorted. “You just don’t like the fact that I’m not at work, and I know it. If I was at work, you wouldn’t be able to afford to ask me to go get swim trunks.”
“Babe, if you were at work, I wouldn’t be asking you to go get swim trunks because you’d be at work.”
He chuckled, leaning his head back, listening to Rory laugh and scurry back off. He grinned in Luke’s general direction. “You have him wrapped around your little finger.”
“Or somewhere.” Luke laughed. “I love it too.”
“I bet. Is it okay, that Sloan is getting a look from Will?”