Page 7 of Doing Life

Okay. It was gonna be all right. He knew about this. His brain was fine. His brain could learn. He took one deep breath, and he sipped his coffee, the sweet bitterness of the whole liquid on his tongue familiar, right, and blessedly normal.

“It is the littlest handle in history, isn’t it? Thank God I don’t have arthritis. I don’t think I could deal with that.”

“Yeah, I have to use my other hand. There’s no way my prosthetic can do it.”

“Sorry.”

They set to eating, and at some point he realized he’d eaten the sandwich and his fries and had two cups of coffee, and he was just sitting there talking to Brick.

Just sitting and talking.

For a second, he’d forgotten he couldn’t see. That things weren’t what they had been. He kind of wanted to scream with horror. It wasn’t right that it could happen that way. That it could just all go away and, for a second, it wouldn’t even matter.

“It’s fucked up, isn’t it?” Brick said, his voice low. “I think… I tell myself it’s like getting convicted and sentenced to a life term in jail. That’s what it’s like in my imagination, going to jail forever, and one day I woke up and realized, this is the way life is. And that you just keep on keeping on because that’s how we’re built. It sucks. It’s scary as hell. But it’s the way we’re made.”

Lance nodded, the words ringing with truth. Yes, that was it. That was one hundred percent it. Wherever you were, you coped, even though it sucked. He hated it, but it happened, because it was how they were built.

“Here’s to life sentences, man.” He lifted up his cup, then he heard and felt theclinkof the ceramic.

“Amen, brother.”

Chapter Four

Sloan headed to the grocery store to get a frozen pizza and a beer.

He’d had the second longest first week of work in his life, save basic training, and he wanted nothing more than to sit his ass down, drink said beer, and think about all the ways his little fantasy of sweeping in and letting Lance know he was in town had failed. Yeah. That had gone down the proverbial crapper.

He’d only seen the damn man once.

Once.

And that was to watch his dog save him from a hit-and-run.

Jesus.

He rolled his head on his neck, staring blankly at the freezer case. When he was a kid, there used to be DiGiorno and Totinos and maybe a store brand. Maybe Tombstone. Now there was a dizzying array of keto, paleo, gluten free, cauliflower crust, and uncured meat pizzas… Not to mention rising crust this and tavern crust that.

“Abby, stop.”

Sloan turned his head, his eyes widening. Lance and his dog had walked up, and they were standing in front of the case next to him, the one with the pizza bites and the little bagel pizza things.

Lance tilted his head, bright blue eyes searching for something, looking for all the world as if he were staring right at Sloan.

Then thewhooshof a wheelchair came around the corner, and a guy rolled right up to Lance. “Hey, man. Sorry, I got stuck talking to one of the nurses from the ER.”

Abby wagged at the guy, and Lance turned to smile at him. “That’s okay. Did I get to the right case?”

“One off, but there’s someone standing in front of the other one.” The guy in the chair grinned up at Sloan. “You’re not in the way, man. Don’t worry.”

God, he immediately wanted to run. “Thanks. Just trying to figure out my Friday night supper.”

Lance frowned, eyebrows lowering, head tilted. Sloan liked the little blond beard, if he were being honest. “I’m sorry, but do I know you? You sound like…someone I used to know.”

So not the fantasy, either. Sloan took a deep breath, then nodded, even if Lance couldn’t see it. “Sloan. It’s Sloan, Lance.”

Lance’s face went slack with shock, and he stepped back, causing the dog to sidestep and for him to almost go right down into the lap of the guy in the chair. “What?”

“Shit. Are you okay?”Please God, don’t fall.

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