Chapter 12 #2
“Yeah. I mean, he seems a little like an island. If he needs help and he’s not getting it, then he needs us.”
“That was my thought too.” He grimaced. “I feel like such a fucker, man. Not knowing he was hurting too.”
“Hey, no. No, man. That will make you crazy. You apologized to him?”
“I mean, yeah.” He had. Right?
“Then let it go. He knows how you feel. And he was withholding information too.” Luke sighed. “Trust me. Interpersonal shit is a minefield.”
“Don’t I know it.”
“Trunks delivered to Sloan. That is some nasty scar tissue he has.”
Lance tried not to hunch his shoulders. He knew Luke was probably right. Sloan hadn’t exactly been forthcoming, but it didn’t matter. Physical scars or not, he should have known that just losing his dog would be enough to leave Sloan with more than a little PTSD.
“That sucks, man.” Luke cleared his throat. “Hey, Sloan.”
“Hey. You really okay if I join you?”
“Hell, yes. Come on. ”
“Cool.” Sloan climbed up in the hot tub. He slid in next to Lance. “Hey. How did it go today?”
“I was going to chop Will into tiny pieces at one point.”
“Ouch. That sounds painful.” Sloan chuckled.
“He made me do down dogs.” Lance bared his teeth. “That counts as torture.”
Luke hooted. “Oh God. Yoga. That’s so sucky.”
“I like yoga,” Rory said.
“You’re an asshole though,” Luke shot back.
Sloan snorted. “Tell us how you really feel, Luke.”
“I will. Able-bodied jerks like this one do not get how ugly-crying-body-aching yoga can be.”
“Are you kidding me?” Rory splashed Luke, the sound plain. “Yoga is the worst kind of rubber band rigamarole. Only Pilates is worse.”
“Pilates? Don’t you need a machine of some kind for that?” Sloan asked.
“Only if you’re really into pain.” Rory made a grunting sound, and from the way Sloan and Luke laughed, he must have been demonstrating something.
“No fair if there was a visual. I need a description please.”
“Let’s just say I had no idea Rory’s leg would do that,” Sloan said.
“I did,” Luke put in.
“Gross, man.”
“What did Will say about your leg?”
He felt Sloan shrug. “He said there’s some stuff we can do to kind of loosen everything up a little bit, ease the scar tissue. He gave me a bunch of paperwork to fill out. I have insurance though, so we just have to get?—”
“You’ve got the VA, man. It’s cool. It’s just paperwork.
Fill it out, and we’ll get you started. That’s what we’re here for.
” Look at that. Luke had the don’t-argue-with-me voice down to a fine art.
He must have been an officer. “Lance says that you’re interested in getting a service dog.
I’ll make sure you have the paperwork for that too. ”
Sloan tensed next to him. “I don’t want to mess up my job. No one wants a cop with an emotional support dog.”
“It shouldn’t,” Luke explained. “It’s a support animal. One, we won’t get you a Pomeranian or such. We’ll find you a dog that suits your lifestyle.”
That was a great idea. Abby needed a friend, someone to run with, play with.
Rory picked up the thread. “It’s not like you can’t go to work without him, especially if you’re worried about nightmares and such. If your job can’t handle it, then maybe you hire a lawyer who works with the ranch to help.”
“Or you find something else to do as far as being in the department. Dog trainer or whatever. There’s tons of things. People will work with you.”
Lance loved how Luke spoke in a manner that proved he was one of those men who knew what he wanted and went out and got it, and damn the consequences. This man was a boss.
It was sort of weird because Rory was too. For the most part he seemed to be kind of this goofy, joking person, but even Lance had heard Rory when the shit hit the fan. That man was smart, and brutal, and cutting. They must be fascinating in bed.
Suddenly he realized that the room had gone quiet in that way that proved that somebody asked a question, and he hadn’t answered it because he hadn’t been listening.
Because he was off in his own head doing something. “What did I miss?”
“Sloan asked if you were looking forward to spaghetti,” Rory offered.
That made him smile. “I am. I think, worse comes to worst, I’ll just get naked, put a trash bag over my lap, and then just dig in, slinging sauce like a wild thing or toddler in a high chair.”
“That sounds messy,” Rory said, but Sloan’s chuckle was dark, sounded more than a touch thick.
“I’d clean up after him no problem. Not any problem at all.”
“Sloan does have a bathroom in his condo, so I could even have a shower.”
Luke cracked up, and the water splashed with someone hitting it. “That would make you look less like a serial killer. Although if you do end up with a trash bag over your lap, make sure somebody takes pictures.”
“Or video?” he asked.
“I don’t need video, I’ll just watch,” Sloan said, and they all cracked up.
Lance had to shake his head, though. “You are some sick folks.”
Will’s voice came from somewhere near the pool. “Kinky, y’all. Kinky.”
Rory laughed again. “We work hard at it. Oh man, that jet is just the thing.”
The splash as Will dove into the pool made him grin. Everything had a rhythm here. Will swam laps instead of getting into the hot tub. Lance thought it was his way of unwinding after tough sessions.
Even the therapists needed a way to release the pressure valve.
Sloan turned closer to him, knee touching his own. “I’m looking forward to having you over for supper tonight.”
“I am too.” He’d packed his little bag well. He had even brought his toothbrush, his hairbrush, and his razor. Not to mention Abby’s nighttime treats and her dental chew she could want after supper .
Sloan had food for her, the water bowl, a bed, toys. Everything a puppy would need.
So he didn’t have to worry about that.
But now Lance had everything necessary to spend the night. If he didn’t need it, fine, but if he did, he had it.
He thought maybe he was going to use it. Even if they didn’t have sex. Even if they didn’t try, it would be nice to sleep together.
He thought he was ready for that. To hold Sloan while he slept, and to let himself be held for a little while. Hopefully he knew Sloan’s house well enough to get up and go pee in the middle of the night if he had to.
But he knew if he didn’t, Abby would help. Hell, Sloan would help.
Those were the important things after all.
“If you want to stop at the store on the way back, I can buy something for dessert.”
“I have a cherry pie in the freezer. I thought that would work. I mean, we’re already going to be a mess.”
“Sounds great.” There was no one else he’d rather be a mess with. “You enjoying the bubbles?”
Sloan’s laugh was warm, happy. “You know what? I’m totally getting us one of these for the house, the one outside of Santa Fe.”
He’d heard that “us” . “What’s it look like?”
“It’s an adobe. Not fancy. One story, a little rambling.
I’m on three acres. I’m not keeping more animals because I just don’t have time, but there’s plenty of room to put in a hot tub or an infinity pool or something, you know?
Plenty of room for dogs to run. I really like it though.
It’s comfortable. Homey. Simple though. But I think a doggy door and an infinity pool, those are going to be my next two big salvos. ”
“I can get behind that.” Was he really talking about moving up with Sloan when he was out of training with Abby and all?
Maybe he was. Sloan was sure campaigning hard.
Shit, he didn’t know what to do. Some days he wanted to wind his butt and scratch his watch.
A couple of hours later, he was sitting in Sloan’s little rented house, smelling spaghetti sauce and garlic bread, and willing himself not to drool.
Maybe he would take leftovers to Will out of the kindness of his heart. Because everyone deserved to eat something that smelled that good.
“Supper is almost ready,” Sloan told him. “You want that trash bag?”
Lance had to chuckle. “Nah. But I’ll put a napkin in my lap and my shirt collar.”
“Fair enough. Come sit at the table, honey.” Sloan didn’t help him make his way over. He let Abby do it, and that was too cool. It was great to feel as if he knew his way around Sloan’s house, and that he knew Sloan never moved anything, that Sloan was keyed into his needs.
“Is there anything I can do?”
“Well, I would say grab a beer, but I got wine. Now, I did get a couple of those stemless wineglasses. I figure that way you would worry less about dumping it over.”
“What kind of wine?”
“A good little chianti. The guy at the beer and wine place recommended it.”
Lance snorted as he sat, letting Abby go lie down on her bed at the corner of the room. “You mean you don’t drink Franzia anymore?”
The sound of Sloan dishing up was broken by soft laughter. “A woman I work with at the Santa Fe office? Her brother owns a winery. I’ve learned a lot from them.”
It occurred to him, not for the first time, that Sloan had left a whole life behind in Santa Fe to come down to be here with him. It was at once weird and also super cool. He felt… less guilty today and more wanted.
“That’s cool. I’ll have to see how it goes. I might want a beer or tea anyway.”
“Sure. That’s cool. But this wine will go really well with the food.”
“Goes with garlic, huh?”
“Hell, yes. The Italians kind of invented that gig.” Sloan put a plate in front of him. “I put the spaghetti in the middle with the sauce. Salad on the three o’clock because you said a bowl is harder. And garlic bread up at twelve.”
“Thanks, babe.” He breathed in deep. “Yum.”
“And if you have to, go full-on toddler and use your fingers.”
He hooted. “Thanks. I will.”
Sloan touched his hand. “I totally did when I was in the hospital. I had broken three fingers on my right hand holding— well, I broke them.”
“Shit, Sloan. You can tell me.”
“Trying to grab Radar’s collar.”
“Fuck.” He turned his hand to grab Sloan’s. “I’m sorry.”
“No. He was doing his job, and I was trying to keep him from doing it.” Sloan must have lifted his wine with his other hand, because he heard a sipping sound. “Okay, no more of that. Tell me how amazing my sauce is.”
Lance grabbed his fork, right by his plate where he expected it to be and spun up a bite. Which actually worked, because he got it to his mouth.
“Oh, my God,” he said around the bite. “So good.”
“Thank you. I’m glad.” Sloan set to eating too, fork clinking on his plate.
“Dude, is this homemade ranch?” Lance asked.
“Yeah. That recipe I got from Marla at the office here.”
“It’s amazing.” He moaned at the garlic bread too. That was Texas toast from the store, he would bet. Sloan had never been a baker.
“Love it,” Lance said. “How bad do you miss Santa Fe?”
There was a long pause. “I love being here with you, Lance. And the work is similar. So I miss my house. And the mountains. I know you can’t really see them, but I want you to feel the air, smell the snow. Feel it on your face.”
“That sounds good.” He had no idea how much longer he had with Luke and the ranch, though. They wouldn’t sign off until he was safe, at the very least. Even if Sloan offered to be his primary.
“It is good,” Sloan agreed. “It’s not perfect. I know it. But it’s good.”
“Sort of like us, huh?” Lance found the wine glass and took a tentative sip, mainly because Sloan wanted him to try it, so much. He wasn’t a wine guy.
It surprised him to note the chianti was deep and velvety, and he found out that he liked it. For the most part, wine tasted like cough syrup. This was good—coating his tongue, and it went well with the pasta.
“Sort of like us, yeah. I have to create a new us now, but I don’t know…that sounded weird and stupid. Do you like the wine?”
Lance smiled and nodded. He got it, this was tough. “I do. It’s good. I’m surprised.”
He laid his hand out on the table, palm up. It seemed to take forever for anything to happen, his skin getting cold at the edges from the air conditioner. Then Sloan took his hand, squeezed his fingers.
“Yeah, babe?”
“Can I spend the night?”