Page 15 of Doing Life

“That’s good to know. I’m glad they’re good people.” He knew the guy who drove the van was friendly. Kind. And the den mother, as Lance called him, was a good friend to Lance.

But he still wanted to do more to help than simply hang out and wait for Lance to let him, which chafed.

“They are. They had their share of troubles, but things really seem to be going well for them now. Anyway, you let me know if I can do anything to help. And keep me posted, huh? On how long you need to stay.”

“I will. I promise. Thank you.” He stood, and they shook hands.

“Have a good one. I’ll see you later, man.” The chief waved him out of the room. “Get your ass back to work.”

“Yessir.”

He grinned as he left Frank’s office. He wanted to tell Lance, “See? The police chief knows I’m gay now. And he didn’t even have a problem with it.”

Not that he would. But it was good to know that he was right. They could have friends here. People could be on their side.

He wouldn’t do that. Not yet. But he stored it up with the rest of his ammo. Because he had a feeling that with Lance he was going to need all he could get.

"So, Lance.”His physical therapist, Will, handed him a towel after a grueling session with the leg machines.

“What?” His eyes moved, automatically trying to find Will’s face. Which, naturally, didn’t work worth a good goddamn.

“I hear you had coffee with someone.”

Damn. Word traveled fast in a small town, didn’t it?

“Did I? I didn’t see…”

“Oh, you fucker. Come on. The new cop? Really? He’s hot as hell.”

“The last time I saw him, he sure was.”

“When was the last time you actually set eyes on him?”

“Before I got hurt. We were in the same unit.”

“Damn.” Will put a water bottle in his hand. “Did he get hurt in the same attack?”

“I—” Hell. He had no idea if Sloan had been injured. If he had, it hadn’t been life-threatening. But it had to have given him some serious PTSD. Jesus, he was an asshole, wasn’t he? “He was there. He was a dog handler for the unit.”

“Shit. That has to be a mindfuck. So what? Were you two a thing?” Will asked a lot of super-personal questions. He did it, most likely, without thinking. But maybe he did it to break down mental walls as well as physical walls.

All therapists were sneaky bastards, physical or mental.

“That’s my business, man.”

“Sure. Okay. But you might as well know that word is he came down here chasing after you.”

“Of course it is.” He sighed, reaching automatically for Abby’s harness. She always sat in a corner away from the machines when he was working out, but now she came right to him, putting her back under his hand.

“So is he?”

“That’s what he says. I’m gonna hit the shower.”

“Okay. I’ll hang out and clean the equipment. You want to grab some lunch?”

“Only if you’re not going to talk about Sloan Ferguson.”

“Ouch. But yeah. I can keep my mouth shut. We’ll go to the truck stop.”

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