Page 72 of Doing Life

“All right, if you’re sure, I’m sure.”

He nodded at Dan’s words. He was pretty certain. “How much farther do we have?”

“About five minutes. Did Sloan sound okay?”

Lance nodded again, feeling like one of those motherfucking dolls with its head on a spring. “He did. A little shaky, but that’s just adrenaline.”

“Well, don’t be surprised if he freaks out. PTSD is a real thing.”

“You think?” he chuckled softly. “I’ve got to get him a dog. The man needs a dog. Right, Abby?”

She woofed and wagged. She was all over having friends, he could tell. In fact, two dogs could fill up the entire back seat of a car. It would be perfect.

He could see Sloan with a bully, or maybe a shepherd mix, or even a big slobbery lab. As long as it wasn’t dog-aggressive.

“Here we are,” Dan said. “I’ll walk you to him. He’s sitting on the back step of an ambulance getting looked at.”

“Thanks.” He tucked his hand into Dan’s arm, and hecould hear the weird clicking that ambulance and cop car lights made when they spun. When a siren was on, no one could hear it, but it was there.

“Hey, honey,” Sloan said as he got close. “You didn’t bring your kit?” Sloan sounded pretty normal, which was good.

“I didn’t. You said there was a bus on the way.”

“Lance, hey.” The voice was familiar, and he squinted, trying to get his eyes to work. “Jaymi. I volunteer with Luke a few days a week. We met when you first arrived.”

“Oh, yeah, hey. How’s it going?” Jaymi was a good paramedic who came out to work with the guys who had bad scar tissue or who needed picc lines and stuff.

“I am living the dream. This your guy?”

Dan stopped, and he groped out with one hand, which Sloan took and drew him over to sit on a hot metal bumper.

“Yeah. How is he so he can’t lie to me?” He held Sloan’s hand. He smelled like gunshot residue, stress sweat, blood, and the starch from his uniform.

And Coke.

Sticky, full-on sweet Coke.

“He’ll be fine. Mexican Coke attack. Bottle exploded. Two shards of glass in the neck. One will need a dressing change when he showers and for the next few days. One cut on his cheek. A few on his hand. Honestly, he did well for himself.”

Sloan snorted. “I just babbled at the guy until backup arrived.”

“No wild west cowboy shit?” Lance asked.

“Hell, honey, it got Western in there, but I didn’t bring it on. I just put the sun in his face to make me less of a target, then freaked him out with my conversational genius.”

“You do have a way with words.”

“Shit, this guy is hilarious, Lance,” Brittany said. “Okay, Officer Sloan. You are all fixed.”

“Thanks. I appreciate it.” The air shifted as Sloan stood.He let Lance reach out to him, then pulled him to his feet and tucked his hand in the crook of his arm. “Wanna run my siren?”

“Oh, you know it.”

“He can ride with me, Dan. And my truck is at the office.”

“You sure?”

“Yep. And the fire guys will help Leah clean up.” Sloan led him to what he assumed was the patrol car, letting him ease into the front seat. Dan brought Abby, and she jumped into the backseat with no trouble.

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