Page 38 of Doing Life

Sloan barked out a hard, unamused laugh. “Good for him. Because it’s true.”

“I don’t know if I can, Sloan.”

“Can what, honey?” He needed to know what he was dealing with. What did Lance think he was incapable of?

“Get it up. I don’t know if I can. Neither do the doctors.” Talk about harsh. Damn.

“What’s wrong with it?”

“Emotionally? I guess it’s blown.”

“Shit, babe.” Sloan turned to face Lance, stopping his forward momentum. “I love you, not your dick. Although, I always did love your dick too…”

“You deserve someone functional.”

“Did it get blown off?”

“What?” Lance’s eyes went wide.

“Your dick. Did it get blown off?” His granddad hadlost his in an industrial accident. It had been coated in molten metal. Granny had still loved him.

“No! Jesus, Sloan!”

“What? You’re the one who brought it up. No one is here. I’ve sucked your cock, stroked it, adored it. I can ask about it.” Sloan loved to watch Lance’s face, see the emotions crossing it.

“It’s still there. It’s not physical. There’s nothing wrong with it that way.” Lance shook his head. “And I don’t know how much therapy it will take to make me functional.”

“I don’t care.”

“What?”

“I jack off alone now. I would rather jack off with you. I would rather be with you impotent than not be with you. I love you, asshole. I can get a dildo anywhere. I need you.”

Lance’s eyes shimmered, and he sucked in a shaky breath. “I want to see you.”

“I’m sorry, babe. You can touch me, though. If you want to know what my face is doing.” Hadn’t he seen that in movies?

“Not in public.” Lance winced. “I hate this.”

So did he. “You can in Santa Fe. If and when you’re ready, you can in Santa Fe.”

“I—” Lance took a deep breath, this one calmer. “I don’t want to invade your life.”

“Why not? I waded right into yours. I want you with me.”

“I—I’m scared,” Lance whispered. “Here—everyone is broken. I am not more fucked up than anyone else.”

Sloan had to laugh. “I swear, you need to come to New Mexico. Everyone has a damn dirty little secret up there. It’s live and let live, I promise.” Sloan had to do more than just hold Lance’s shoulders. He touched that scarred face, his body on fire. But even alone on a golf course, he knew he had tobe careful.

“Are they ugly?” Lance’s eyes moved furiously, trying so hard to see him. “Can you tell?”

He shook his head. “They’re just scars, babe. They are just a set of scars.”

No more, no less. They were healed skin.

“But—”

“Nope. I have some all over my right leg. Burns and shrapnel. Makes my leg hurt when it snows. But it’s just scar tissue.”

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