Page 13 of Doing Life

“Yeah. I know because my mom dropped some on the gas stove when I was a kid. Whoosh.”

“I’d never heard that. You’d think they would teach you that in chemistry class.”

“Right?” He sighed. “Sloan, I’m not sure if I can?—”

“Try.”

“I just need time to recover.”

“No.” The word came out flat, and he heard Sloan sip his coffee. “The more time I give you, the more you’ll convince yourself you’re doing me a favor. That you don’t need me, and that I’m better off without you.”

“You are.” He picked up his coffee, careful not to get cinnamon up his nose when he breathed it in.

“And if that proves to be true, okay. But you can’t say for sure it will. Please, ba— Lance. Give me some time.”

He chewed his lip, which was a mistake, as it pulled at his scars. Shit. Part of him wanted to scream at Sloan, tell him to go to hell.

The other half of him wanted to just say yes. He’d missed the hell out of this man. He’d missed Sloan’s voice, his touch, his silly jokes… Lance had missed it all.

“I don’t know.” He picked up his muffin after he set down his coffee. Sugar fell off on his hand, so he knew it had at least those sugar crystals, maybe a streusel. Ugh. Mess.

“You should try a bite of my croissant,” Sloan murmured. “The chocolate is amazing.”

“Maybe I’ll get one and an eclair to go.”

“Or you could try a bite of mine.”

“Dammit, Sloan.”

“Yes. Damn it all. I am not going to let you stop having food you like or doing fun things because it might be awkward.”

“You’re not going to let me?” He tried to keep his voice from rising, but it was super tough. Lance was shaking.

Abby nosed him again, and he breathed in deep, tempted to do the tapping exercises he’d learned from his therapist to help tame his anxiety.

“You don’t tell me what to do,” he said, his voice soft again now, and he wrapped his control around him like a blanket.

Sloan took a deep breath too, and he heard it come out like yoga breathing.Whoosh. “You’re right. I’m sorry. That wasincredibly high-handed of me, not to mention rude. I’m sorry.”

He waited for the “but”, waited for Sloan’s next salvo, but it didn’t come.

“Apology accepted,” he said after a breath or two. He pulled a piece off his muffin, eating it carefully.

“Thanks. I just get all caught up in wanting to make sure I’m in your life. It makes me a little pushy. I don’t want you to hate me.”

Right. Like that was gonna happen.

“I’m not in a place to be lovers with anybody. Hell, I’m not sure I’m in the place I can be a friend to anybody right now. I’m angry. I meanreallyangry at the entire world, and I don’t think I can let anybody be close to me.”

“So you can be angry. I’m not asking to move in. I’m not asking for sex.” Sloan sighed. “You can be angry, and I’ll listen. You can fight with me. You can do anything…I mean, do you still love me?”

“What?” How could someone ask him something like that?

“Do you still love me?”

“Yeah, don’t say that in a fucking coffee shop, man. Shut up.” How could someone ask him something like this in public? Sloan was just going to get them beat to death, both of them. He couldn’t afford that. “Seriously. What are you thinking? This is not like some big queer party palace.”

“‘Party palace’? What the fuck is wrong with you?” Sloan huffed out a laugh, but there wasn’t any humor in the sound. “There are lots of gay guys here now, right? I mean, you do understand that, right? I know you do, because that’s why you came here.”

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