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“I don’t know.”

Sloane thought about it before nodding. “That’s fair.”

Simmons looked up warily. “Is it?”

“Yeah, man, you don’t know, but it means you’re working on it. That’s the first step to figuring shit out, even if that shit is your own. Just...don’t run from it, alright? You’ll get there, and when you do, wherever it is, you’ll be a lot happier.”

Simmons stared. “Are...are you giving me good advice?”

Sloane snorted. “Look, if you’re a lot happier, you’ll bitch less, which means I don’t have to listen to it as much. We all win.”

“Of course, there’s an ulterior motive,” Simmons said with a laugh.

Sloane winked. “Welcome to the military.”

“Alright, well, I’ll keep thinking about it. When I do, would you mind helping me figure it out?” Simmons asked, not quite looking Sloane in the eye as he asked.

Sloane smiled. “Yeah, man, you got it.”

Simmons looked up, then away. “Alright, well, your shift ended five minutes ago. Get out of here before Trisha comes in and thinks something’s up.”

“Yeah, God forbid she thinks you’re an actual person,” Sloane grunted as he stood up.

He left Simmons with a chuckle, content to let the man sort through things on his own. Sloane knew all too well what that was like, and even still, he was trying to make sense of the conflicts bouncing around in his skull. He knew where it would inevitably lead, but along the way, he was going to have to stop occasionally and figure some things out.

Sloane pulled his phone out, reading the text Dean had sent.

Saw your note. Sure, you need to think, but if you want to come back here, you’re welcome.

Sloane had responded that he would be coming back when his shift was over, and after that, silence had fallen between them. That was okay in Sloane’s book, even if part of him hated that Dean would be fretting the whole time. He needed to address the frequent texts from his mother while he’d been working, demanding he text her back.

Instead, he swiped on her name, dialing her number. It rang half a dozen times, and just before he was preparing his voicemail speech, her voice came over the line.

“And here I thought you’d forgotten about me.”

Sloane snorted. “We both know that’s not happening anytime soon.”

“Not that you’d think any different. Here I am, worrying about what’s going on after the last time you called me, and then you turn around and go silent for two weeks.”

Sloane stopped, groaning. “Oh shit, it has been two weeks, hasn’t it?”

“Yes, Sloane, it has. I’m going to assume everything worked out.”

Sloane looked up, thinking of what to say. “Well, that’s one way of putting it.”

“Sloane, please tell me you two are not still dancing around each other over one little fight.”

Sloane laughed. “No, Mama, we’re not. I just meant it didn’t quite turn out the way I thought it would?”

“What does that mean?”

Sloane thought about it before deciding where to start. “Well, we made up a few days after I talked to you.”

“Which is good.”

“Right. It was a little weird, but we made do with one of our hang-out nights. Which turned out pretty good until...things happened.”

“Things? What sort of things? Not another fight.”