Page 20 of Doing Life

“You know it.” Sloan’s laugh sounded thick and raw, rusty. “He did. Do you remember that time we were supposed to be training, and there was that one guy who had that bloodhound in heat, and Radar just could not keep his dick in his proverbial pants?”

Lance chuckled because he hadn’t thought about that in years. They started swapping stupid stories about that damn dog.

He had to admit, it felt fucking good simply talking to Sloan. Just sort of like putting on a pair of comfy PT shorts.

But knowing talking to Sloan made it better, made Sloan sound better? That felt amazing.

Because of all the things he had been during this whole fucking experience, alone was never one of them. Never. No one ever left him the fuck alone. Sloan had been alone this entire time.

That broke his heart.

That he’d been a fucking part of that was worse. Sloan deserved better.

“Thank you, honey.”

“What for?” Lance said.

“For remembering. For talking to me about. It— it helps. Ihad a therapist, you know. Appointed. When I first got back. She was nice and all, but she’d never been there.”

“Shit. Yeah.” He got that. In that he was lucky, too, right? He was surrounded by vets. “You’re not alone.”

It hurt his heart to know he’d been a part of allowing Sloan to be isolated.

“I—thank you. Not just for saying it, but for tonight. It feels good, just to shoot the shit.”

“It does.” And that wasn’t surprising. He hadn’t walked away from Sloan because of Sloan. He’d done itforSloan.

“Anyway, I— Can I take you out this weekend, Lance? Just to sit and talk in person. Have some food? Or I can cook for you. Enchiladas.”

“Oh.” Oh, he loved Sloan—Sloan’s enchiladas. “Green chile chicken ones or flat ones with an egg?”

“Whichever one you want more, honey.” Sloan chuckled. “I like Tex-Mex, but I need my fix.”

He had to laugh. New Mexican food and Tex-Mex were very different birds, it was true. “I could so go for some flat with eggs. I’ll come over to your place. That way if I slop it all down my front, you’re the only one to see it.” It still made the pit of his belly feel as though it had fallen out. All it took was the idea of going and being alone with Sloan.

But he was going to try.

“Do I need to pick you up?” Sloan asked.

“No. No, it will be easier if Abby and I come in the van, at least this time.” Which he knew sort of predicted another time, and he wasn’t sure if he was giving Sloan false hope or not.

“Okay. Should I text my address?”

Lance scoffed. “I would bet anything Dan already knows where you live. Rumors abound in this town. But yeah, text it to me and I can show him. When and what time?”

“Sunday at three? I can make chips and guac to munch before. If it gets weird, we’ll put onThe Mummy.”

“Nice.” They both liked the 1999 version of the movie, and he knew it by heart, so he could picture it as he listened. “I’ll be there.”

He didn’t know if this was a good idea, not really. But it was the best idea he had. Sloan deserved this—to have a friend to talk to, if nothing else.

Lance still loved the son of a bitch. Always would.

After all, that was why he’d broken it off, right? Not because they weren’t friends, but because he wasn’t going to be someone’s lover anymore.

He wasn’t going to be able to keep up with Sloan.

Maybe…

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