Detachment

by Shae Banks

  Ending the call, I rushed over to Ryan. He cut me a look as if to ask what the phone call was about, but for the moment I wanted to know how Lyla was before I broke the news of Lloyd.

  “How is she?” I interrupted. Now wasn’t the time for manners when you’re about to find out if the person you love is alive or dead.

  If he were annoyed, the doctor showed no sign, smiling sadly and looking to me. “As I was telling your friend here, her appendix ruptured, and the toxins got into her bloodstream. We had success in removing the appendix, cleaned the affected areas of her abdomen, and she’s on a high dosage of pain relief and antibiotics. She’s not out of the woods yet. She can still face complications over the next couple days, but she’s very lucky to be alive.”

  The breath I’d been holding left me in a whoosh at his news. “When can we see her?”

  “Lyla’s still in recovery for a moment, but we’ll be moving her to a room shortly. I’ll have someone sent out to collect you both when we do. She won’t be awake until at least mid-morning though, and it’s vital that she gets all the rest she needs. It’s going to be a long recovery for her.”

  I could feel Ryan’s relief. I shared it. Better a long road than an early grave.

  “Are you her next of kin?” the doctor asked.

  My thoughts immediately turned to Lloyd. We weren’t, but who else did she have? Her husband either wouldn’t care or would use the opportunity to get her back home. Her father wasn’t around.

  I had to hide my surprise when Ryan’s answer came more readily than I’d have predicated. “No. Her brother is away on detachment, and her dad is somewhere in Tenerife. There’s an estranged husband somewhere in London, but I live with her, I’m her boyfriend. If you need to contact anyone, you can call me first. Probably easier.”

  The doctor nodded. “Let them know on the ward. Someone will call you when they take Lyla up.”

  Ryan nodded once, but left me to say, “Thank you.” When the doctor pushed through the double doors leading back to his patients, I turned to Ry. “Come outside.”

  He frowned and looked down at his sock-clad feet. “Why?”

  It was early summer, and we hadn’t had rain for over a week, I wasn’t taking no for an answer. “Because I need to talk to you.”

  What he saw in my expression or heard in my tone was enough to get him moving. I picked up our bags and followed, running through a rough draft of how to break the shitty news.

  “I didn’t think,” he began, looking around before taking my hand.

  I pulled him around the side of the entrance. “Ryan, it’s—”

  His words rush out on a single breath. “I only said I was her boyfriend so they’d let us on the ward. I didn’t mean to make it—”

  “Lloyd’s dead,” I stated, cutting him off, and immediately winced.

  That wasn’t how I’d meant to break it, but he wouldn’t shut up and I couldn’t hold it in anymore. I didn’t want to have it locked inside my head.

  The shock of that news was physical, and seeing the pain he felt made my own wound deeper. His head moved subtly from side to side, his lips parting, but no words formed.

  He fought it, grinding his teeth as though that would keep the emotion in, but his eyes betrayed him.

  A single tear fell.

  That was when it became real. Seeing him feel what I did, witnessing his immediate grief, validated my own, and while it wasn’t pleasant, it was a relief.

  His shoulders dropped and I stepped into him, letting his hand fall from mine, hooking one arm around his shoulders.

  To think he was worried about my reaction to him declaring himself Lyla’s boyfriend.

  I nudged Ryan towards Lyla because I wanted her, but I wouldn’t have touched her without him being in the loop. Him being directly involved was preferred, he was too important not to be. I recognised it the day we met. I hadn’t meant for things to go the way they had. Ryan didn’t love, or so he’d said, not since Shannon screwed with his head. He let things happen. He rolled with it. But I knew Lyla was different.

  She made me happy. Like being with Ryan made me happy. Not one or the other. Not this or that. And it had worked out, so far, with both of them. We made each other happy and I was willing to work to keep the happiness. What we had wasn’t about a single person. It couldn’t be, and that’s what made it perfect.

  “We have to think about Lyla,” I murmured close to his ear. “What we’re feeling is nothing compared to how it’ll hit her.”

  Ryan pulled away from me and I let him go. As I expected, he pushed the heels of his hands into his eyes, rubbing hard to remove any evidence of tears. “How are we gonna—”

  “We’ll wait as long as possible, but we have to tell her before the army contacts her as next of kin.”

  The look of incredulity he gave me was nothing to the outburst that was surely close behind.

  “Ryan, please,” I mumbled soothingly. “Let her sleep off the anaesthetic and we can tell her tonight.”

  Running both hands over his head, he blew out a tense breath. I waited, watching him slowly pull himself together. I knew he could, I’d watched him do it several times before. His resolve was slow to manifest, but eventually his shoulders straightened, and his eyes hardened.

  He patted his pockets, and when he realised I still had his phone, he asked, “What fucking time is it?”

  Pulling his phone from my pocket, I pressed the button on the side. “Ten to six.”

  Taking the phone from me, he pinched the bridge of his nose, indicating the first signs of a headache brewing. “Fuck… Okay. We should phone in.”

  I nodded, on board with that plan. There was no way either of us were going to work after the night we’d had.

  I wouldn’t have said she was lucid by any stretch, but she was awake.

  Ryan was standing by the wall of the tiny room, staring at her, while I’d moved to the far side of the bed and sat on the chair at her side. She looked terrible. Her skin was pale, and a few small lines marred her forehead, an external feature of her internal discomfort.

  “Lyla?” I called softly, worried speaking loudly would disturb her too much.

  Her eyes opened slowly, and she blinked a few times as if trying to figure out where she was. Her face scrunched up, showing her confusion. I reached for her hand, hoping the familiarity would offer reassurance, but she flinched, not ready for physical contact, before twitching her fingers

  “Thom? What happened? They said something—” Wincing, she turned her head away and seemed to forget what she was saying.

  “Your appendix burst,” I explained gently, before glancing at Ryan. I didn’t want to say it out loud because I didn’t want to scare Lyla, but I needed him to be close. He was as much a part of this as the rest of us. He took the hint and came closer to the bed as I continued, “There’s still an infection raging, but it’s under control. You’re on some strong antibiotics and pain relief, so you might feel woozy for a while.”

  A quick glance at Ryan made me swallow hard. His hand was shaking as he reached out for her other hand, the one with a cannula—with vital fluids attached—covered with a light bandage.

  “But you’re okay,” he rasped, voice hoarse with emotion. “Thank God, you’re okay.”

  Lyla’s eyes welled with tears. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”

  “Shhhh.” All trepidation forgotten, Ryan leaned over and kissed her forehead, smoothing her hair back with his free hand. “You’ll be home in a few days. We just want you home and fixed, babe.”

  I got to my feet and Ryan stepped back to allow me to move closer. “We aren’t allowed to stay long, and the nurses probably want to come and check on you again soon. We told them Ryan is your boyfriend, so they’ll allow us to visit. Get some rest. We’ve taken a few days off work so we can go home, get sorted, and come back this afternoon. You have a few things in your locker, but we’ll bring more when we come back.”

  “And sneak you in something decen
t to eat,” Ryan added.

  She managed a smile and I kissed her. She smelled of anaesthetic, and her lips were dry, but I didn’t care. She was warm. She was alive. The outcome could have been so very different. “Sleep. We’ll be back in a few hours.”

  She nodded then turned her head to look at Ryan, but didn’t say anything.

  I forced myself to leave, taking Ryan with me, but we both paused at the door for one last glance. Her eyes were already closed.

  Leaving Lyla to sleep, we handed both our numbers to the nurse responsible for Lyla’s care. I had to drag Ryan away from the desk when his expression suggested he was going to threaten death if he didn’t hear from them if something was wrong, and we both dragged our feet as we left the ward behind. But not her. She shouldn’t have had to be alone, but her needs were greater than ours.

  It wasn’t until the elevator doors closed when Ryan stepped close and pulled me into his arms. I gladly went, closing my eyes and resting my head against his. I’d never been more grateful for him than in that moment. He was the only person in the world who could know what I was feeling, because he was going through the same. He wouldn’t say it, not until she did, but he loved her. I loved her.

  I didn’t care that it wasn’t supposed to be that way. All I cared about was them, and the devastation Ryan and I would have to drop on her in just a few short hours.

  16

  Lyla

  Most people hate hospitals. The clinical, clean smell, hushed voices, and overly bright lights, not to mention the hourly checks from nurses, making it the least homey environment. But I didn’t mind. I was used to silence. I’d spent enough hours alone in Francis’s house.

  I’d started calling it that. I didn’t know when I made the switch, but it made sense to since it wasn’t mine. Never really had been. I lived there long enough, but it certainly hadn’t ever been home.

  My home was five miles away in a small town packed with squaddies. My home was with two of them, four when my brother and Sam came home, and a dog. But I was ill, and hospital was the best place for me to be.

  The door to my room opened and my nurse, Clare, wheeled in a small trolley with different things on it before she came to a stop at the bottom of my bed, and grabbed the folder hanging on the end. “How are you feeling, Lyla?”

  I looked at her and smiled, albeit weakly. “Sore,” I admitted.

  I hadn’t looked yet. I’d only been up once to use the toilet after they’d removed my catheter, and while I could walk perfectly well, no amount of pain relief was masking the dull ache across my lower abdomen.

  I’d seen my surgeon a couple of hours before. He was lovely, a cheerful Ghanaian man, about five feet five—almost as broad as he was tall—with hands like shovels. He’d saved my life, but the bruising wasn’t a surprise, not with him digging around inside me trying to fix the mess my appendix had left behind.

  “You’re due for some more pain relief. I can get you that morphine,” Clare offered, pushing her blood pressure monitor to the side of the bed.

  I shook my head and held out my arm. Thom and Ryan had left me a nightshirt that I’d put on just after lunch, so I could just shove up the short sleeve and offer my upper arm. “No, thank you. As long as my temperature is under control, I’m happy with the codeine.”

  “I wish we had more like you,” she stated, tearing open the Velcro cuff and securing it around my arm. She followed this up by attaching a plastic clip to the end of my middle finger, and then pressed a button on her machine. “Feeling hungry yet?”

  I shook my head again. “Not really, but I’ve finished the water. And I need the loo.” It was my fifth glass. I’d been ordered to drink as much as I could over the few hours since I’d gotten changed and I was glad to. The anaesthetic had left me parched, the oxygen I’d been given throughout the surgery drying my lips out horribly.

  “You should have buzzed,” Clare scolded, taking the readings from my monitor. “I’ll get your temperature written down and help you.”

  I waited patiently while she put a fresh cap on her ear thermometer and checked my temperature.

  “It’s coming back up,” she muttered, checking the fob watch attached to her tunic. “I’ll get you something to bring it down in half an hour. Want me to bring a commode in for you?”

  “No, thank you,” I answered quickly. I didn’t want to pee in my room. “I can make it to the bathroom.” Thankfully, because I was so unwell, I had a single room. No shared toilets, no worrying about wet floors.

  “Can you get out of bed okay?”

  I rolled my feet. They’d forced a pair of stockings over my legs at some point. When I asked why, I was told they prevented deep vein thrombosis and I needed them because of my BMI.

  More big girl perks.

  What they did was make me feel like a sausage spilling out of its casing, but I didn’t argue. They also make me anxious of slipping on the polished floor as they came over my heel, leaving me no natural grip.

  “Yeah, I should be okay. I managed earlier.”

  She pulled back the sheet for me and watched me swing myself around. I was about to lower my feet to the floor when the door unexpectedly opened. I immediately looked up and my breath stuttered as tears brimmed in my eyes.

  I’d never been so relieved to see someone.

  “Is she supposed to be out of bed?” Ryan asked with a frown, before approaching.

  Thom followed, looking right at Clare.

  “Lyla thinks she can manage, and it’s better if she moves around a little now. We want to keep the circulation going,” she answered, unfazed.

  Ryan kissed my cheek and took my hand, guiding me up. Thom did precisely the same thing.

  Curiosity had me glancing over at Clare to gage her reaction to the guys’ affections.

  She couldn’t know, but she damn well suspected, I could tell by the smile playing on the corners of her mouth as she said, “I see you’re in capable hands, Lyla. I’ll come back with that codeine in a few minutes.”

  Not waiting for her to leave, Ryan demanded, “Where are you going?”

  “Loo,” I explained, grimacing at the pain my first step caused. It felt like a tugging. “I’ve gone through a jug of water.”

  Thom was forced to let me go so he could open the bathroom door and pull down the support rail on the exposed side of the toilet.

  “Need anything else, just shout,” he urged, and turned to leave me to it, but had to double back to grab Ryan when it was clear he wasn’t going to give me privacy.

  Thom seemed quite relaxed, but Ryan was still worried. I understood, but it really wasn’t necessary. The doctor explained while he was doing his checks that it was Ryan who found me. He’d saved me by getting me to the hospital in time. There wasn’t anything to worry about now, but that wouldn’t matter to Ryan. He’d fuss until he was satisfied, I knew that much about him.

  Getting up was an effort once I was finished, but when I finally got myself moving, the pain eased a little, and after my hands were washed and dried, I returned to my room.

  The two of them stood by the window, their heads almost touching, deep in whispered conversation. I couldn’t see Ryan’s face, but the way his shoulders were bunched up suggested whatever the topic was, it had him stressed. Rather than ask questions, I returned to my bed, catching their attention with a sharp intake of breath at the discomfort when I sat down.

  “What’s the big secret?” I asked, as I shuffled into the centre of the bed.

  Ryan looked guilty somehow. There wasn’t any single aspect of his demeanour I could pick out, he just looked… uncomfortable. That wasn’t something I was used to seeing from Ryan. He was an overconfident ass most of the time. He made me smile. Laugh. He made me feel like me. But this, here? Whatever was wrong was serious.

  Rather than ask him, I turned my attention to Thom. His lovely blue eyes had lost their usual lustre, and his lips didn’t have their subtle up-tilt in the corners I’d come to admire about him.


  Worry gnawed at me as various scenarios came to mind. “What’s happened? Please don’t say someone contacted Francis.”

  Hell, I’d welcome anything but him turning up at the hospital.

  Thom, having heard the distress in my voice, immediately moved to the right side of my bed, leaving Ryan on the left. Instead of coming straight to the bed, Ryan pushed the door closed and then settled in the chair beside me.

  “Lyla there’s been—” Thom paused when Ryan reached out and took my hand within both of his. But Thom didn’t touch me. He held me with his eyes, but there was no physical contact from him at all.

  “Sam called early this morning,” he continued, holding my attention as Ryan brushed the back of my left hand with his thumb. “We were waiting for you to come out of the operating theatre.”

  “Sam? Isn’t he with Lloyd?” I questioned, my brain slowly connecting the dots.

  Thom nodded. “Yeah, yeah he’s up there. Lyla, it sounds as though Lloyd suffered the same as you did. Sam had him airlifted, stayed with him all the way, but—”

  His voice cracked. I could see now, it was sorrow. Thom looked sorrowful.

  I glanced at Ryan. The Adam’s apple in his throat bobbed a few times and he looked away, but didn’t release my hand.

  “Lyla, I’m sorry,” Thom managed to murmur after a few moments. “Sam did everything he could, but they were too far away… it was too late.”

  When you hear news like that, they say your heart sinks. It doesn’t. It explodes and takes everything with it. Your breath. Your stomach. Your thoughts. It wipes your mind for a few seconds so all you can do is blink dumbly.

  Then your head catches up and that implodes. A thousand thoughts and memories are sucked into a vortex and you go with it. It only lasts a moment, but you’re in a free fall. When you reach the bottom, though, it’s all there. It’s waiting. It swallows you whole and threatens to drown you.

  I’d been through it before with Mum, but somehow this was worse. Far, far worse.