Page 49 of Doing Life

“Uh-huh.” He breathed in deep, then let it out. In. Out. Okay. This was a step in the right direction. “Did I tell you we have pie for dessert?”

“You did. Cherry, right?”

“They have to go with the spots on our shirts. All red—wine, sauce, pie.” He rolled his eyes, but really, Lance had done a pretty good job.

“Cool. I really like the pasta. It was super good.” Lance’s fingers rubbed his, sensitizing his skin.

Sloan didn’t quite know what to do. He was so excited andnervous and tickled—all of the words, all of the things. He just wanted to do this, to be here.

Lance tilted his head. “Are you off tomorrow?”

Sloan nodded, then shook his head at himself and squeezed Lance’s hand instead. “I am. I’m not on call this weekend. Do you want to do anything tomorrow?”

“I don’t know. I really don’t. I mean. I wanna go do something, but I don’t know what to do.” Lance pinked, shoulders climbing up toward his ears. “The things I used to like to do, I can’t do. So I don’t know what to do. I guess I’m going to have to find new things to like, and that’s really hard.”

“It is. No question. I mean, I don’t even know what to tell you. We could go camping. That’s something you can do, but I don’t know if you’d like to do it.” Shit, so much of life was about looking at things. “We could go…uh…” Come on, man. Think. “We could see if there’s a concert to go to, or maybe a symphony.”

Lance’s lips quirked. “I’m not sure if I’m ready for a concert. That seems like a lot of people.”

Dammit. Okay… “What about like a bar that has a band? Surely we can find a bar that’s having a little band—just a local thing. I can look it up.”

“I think that sounds like fun. Especially if you know, we stay away from the biker bars and stuff.”

“Well, the nice thing is—” Sloan chuckled at himself, but he still had to tease. “I sort of know these cops. And so I sort of know where all the bad bars are, and I will never take you to one of those because I don’t need you throwing down and kicking a bunch of biker butts and getting me in trouble at work.”

“Yeah, yeah—just because you get into one fight at the grocery store in front of another cop, all of a sudden all there is is hassle from you guys.”

They cracked up, both of them laughing like they were about to bust.

It felt good. Normal.

Best of all, Lance was talking to him, letting him in, letting him be a partner.

“So we have a plan. We chill out tomorrow during the day, we get dressed, we go have a nice supper, and we go listen to a band and have a beer. I’ll be the designated driver.”

Lance grinned, the expression pure naughty. “I mean I could be.”

“That’s okay. I’ll let you drink. It’ll avoid the problems.”

“We could let Abby drive.” Lance was in rare form.

He stood and started putting the dishes in the sink. “I don’t think that Abby will be the appropriate driver, although she’s coming.”

Sloan personally thought that would keep a lot of trouble from happening if he could keep Abby visible. Just so everyone knew Lance was blind.

Bars could be fun spots, but when alcohol was involved, there was always a variable or two that no one could control.

“Do you want some help?” Lance asked.

He shook his head, then stopped himself. He needed to let Lance help. “Want to help load the dishwasher?”

“I live for it.”

“I bet.” He laughed. “So, there are no knives in the sink.”

“Good deal.” Lance rose, feeling his way along a little. Sloan was tickled that he didn’t have to have Abby help him anymore, but he did push a chair in that Lance might not know was out. Just to keep it fair.

“Tonight we get to cuddle and shit, right?” Lance asked.

---