Page 59 of Doing Life

“I think so too. Now we just have to hope we didn’t shock Abby.”

Lance hooted for him. “Well, she didn’t think you were accosting me, so that’s good.”

“Yeah. That would hurt, if she bit my ass.”

“And then some.” Lance reached up to touch his face. “Thank you.”

“I keep telling you, honey. We’re in this together. All the way.”

“All the way,” Lance echoed.

Then promptly rolled to the center of the bed to smack into him, sending them both off laughing all over again.

Camping had turned out to be a damn fine idea.

Chapter Sixteen

Lance hummed as he hung the swim trunks up on the little line outside the cabin. It sat on the back deck, which was a six-by-six concrete slab resting on about three-foot stilts. The whole cabin sat that far up, a ramp leading from the parking area to the cabin door.

The swim area was a bit of a drive, but he and Abby liked it so much that Sloan had seemed happy to take them twice a day, so he wasn’t going to bitch about rinsing out the laundry and hanging it to dry.

He didn’t want to go back tomorrow, but Sloan had to head into work.

Sloan stuck his head out the back door. “I’m gonna go light the grill in the parking area. You good?”

“Yeah. We finally gonna eat those hot dogs?”

“We are. Come on out when you’re done. You can bring me a beer.”

“Ooh, a challenge.” The ramp had both the incline and a half turn, so he and Abby had practiced it quite a bit until he felt solid and not as if he had to hold on to Sloan. “We’ll be out.”

“Cool. It’s sunny with a chance of mosquitos, so reapply the goo.”

“Got it.” He shook out the last wet bit of cloth, then hung it up as Sloan ducked inside.

“Okay, Abby girl. We’re going to navigate that ramp in flip-flops and holding two beers, okay?”

She gave a soft woof, helping steer him to the door to the cabin even without his hand on her harness. She was so smart.

He adored her.

And he adored Sloan. Oh, Sloan made plenty of missteps. He’d left the towels on the bathroom floor after their shower, in fact, which meant Lance had damn near killed himself when he went in to piss later.

But Sloan tried hard, he apologized when he did something not so helpful, and he talked to Lance about shit instead of clamming up and getting mad or martyr-y.

That was about as perfect as anyone could be in this situation. Lance truly believed it. He didn’t need a paragon, but he did need a partner.

He managed to finagle along the ramp without killing Abby or himself or dropping a beer, which he figured was a success.

“Good job, man. I got you in a chair. I figure that’s safest while the fire’s going.”

“Is that your way of saying you don’t want me to barbecue right now?” Lance cackled, about as tickled as a pig in shit. He had thought a year ago when he got to the ranch that he would never manage to live anywhere that wasn’t in some sort of a facility. Then he’d moved to the halfway house and figured that out. Now he was going camping.

“I’d like to point out you weren’t trustworthy with the fucking grill when you could see and stand up on both legs without gimping around.”

His lips twisted as he fought to keep his laughter in. “Idon’t think you’re allowed to say that anymore, you know. It’s mean.”

“No? Noted. Besides, compared to when I came here, you’re moving ten thousand times better.”

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