by Shae Banks
With more enthusiasm than I felt, I forced a smile. “I brought you more juice,” I announced, while walking around the bed.
The last time we’d been in here together, I’d fucked her rigid with a massive dildo. Who’d have thought I’d be feeling guilty about that now?
Leaving the glass on her nightstand, I moved to the window and parted the blinds. It was red-hot outside, but the north facing window kept the room cool during the summer. With the curtains closed too, there was no telling what it was like outside.
I needed to play it casual—she wouldn’t be susceptible to the same hounding Sam was—so while I continued to look outside, I murmured, “Gunner’s been whining for you.”
“So, bring him up,” she replied flatly, her nose sounding stuffy. “I don’t mind him lying on the bed for a while.”
I was grateful I had my back to her and she was still facing the door, so she couldn’t see the surprised expression I wasn’t able to hide at the conversation no longer being one-sided. I remembered she was used to a cat being allowed to freely roam the house. A few hairs on the bed wouldn’t bother her, but that wasn’t the point of the exercise.
Features schooled, I let the blinds close before I went to her, sitting on the bed at her back. “We need to talk.”
She finally rolled onto her back, still clutching her brother’s shirt. “I just need some—”
“I’m picking Sam up at six,” I said, interrupting her. “I just got off the phone with him, and he’s concerned about seeing you. I told him you don’t blame him, but he’s blaming himself because he was the medic in charge of their group. He doesn’t want to put you through any more heartbreak by him being here.”
Her eyes brimmed with tears again. “That’s stupid.”
I couldn’t agree with her more. I smothered the smile at the conviction in her voice. It’s the first time I’d heard it since she’d learned of Lloyd, and it was a small glimpse of her returning to her old self. Only small, but I’d take it. “Yeah, well, he doesn’t think he should come home. Fuck knows where he plans to go but, anyway, I think I’ve talked him round. Just, if he’s a bit off, that’s why. Usually he’s a great lad, but this has really hit him, and he needs some time.”
“I’ll stay out of his way and find somewhere else next week,” she murmured with a sniff.
And just like that my hopes of her returning to her old self were dashed. She was prepared to leave. To be alone. I tried not to sigh. “That’s not the f—” I managed to stop myself before I swore, that wouldn’t help. “This is your home. If anyone should be leaving, it’s us lot.”
Without a word, she turned over, her back to me, and cried silently into his t-shirt.
I was stumped, I honestly had no idea what to do. I didn’t know how to help her and every time I opened my mouth, I somehow made it worse.
The lump in my throat had grown with her sorrow. “Lyla, please…”
I trailed off as her sobs grew louder, deciding that shutting up was the better option. But I didn’t want to leave. Not when she was so upset.
I needed to know she was okay. I needed to see she wasn’t ill. That she was safe. This type of pain wasn’t physical. Her pain couldn’t be eased by me or any amount of medication. But that didn’t mean she had to suffer it alone.
So, with no better ideas and no Thom to come and save me, I kicked off my trainers and lay down beside her, trying not to disturb the bed and add to her discomfort any more than necessary.
The urge to pull her into my arms was almost too much, but I held myself back. If she wanted contact, she’d come to me.
She didn’t.
There were so many things I wanted to say, so much I wanted to tell her. Sorry didn’t begin to describe it. It never seemed like the right thing to say, even though I was. I was sorry for her pain. I was sorry for her loss. I was sorry that I couldn’t change any of it, and that I couldn’t bring him home to her. The list was never-ending and there wasn’t a single thing I could do to make any of it better.
All I could do was be here.
Eventually, she turned over, wincing at the discomfort the movement caused.
“Do you need anything, sweetheart?” I asked, reaching for her.
She shook her head and buried her face in my shoulder, the material instantly soaked from her tears. I held her. It wasn’t nearly enough, but it was all I could do.
There wasn’t a damn thing that could take her pain away and it was killing me. The small mercy was that she’d survived her appendicitis and had gotten over the worst of the infection.
“I can’t do this,” she sobbed into my shoulder. “I can’t—owww.”
I drew circles on her back in the hopes it would calm her down before she pulled her stitches. “You can, babe. It’s hard now, I know, but it’ll get easier to live with. I’m going to be here every step of the way.”
“Don’t… Ryan, we both know—”
I knew what she was going to say. It was an unspoken agreement between the three of us, and I’d believed it myself until I was faced with losing her. I had a lot of time to evaluate my choices while sitting in that reception waiting for news. I made new goals. Solid ones. Permanent ones. I was where I needed to be. None of it needed an explanation. It never had. What had worked for fun had quickly turned into being what I was looking for all along, I’d just never explored the possibility. Now I had her, them, and I wasn’t prepared to let it go.
“I will. I am. I love you.”
If her body locking up against mine was any indication, Lyla picked up on the conviction in my tone, but I refused to take the words back. I’d never been surer of anything in my life. I hadn’t felt a speck of what I feel now towards Shannon. I didn’t think I ever did. Lyla and Thom were all-consuming. They knew me, they pushed, but never too far. They both knew what they wanted, and neither were apologetic for going after it. I envied them, I wanted to be better for them. To do better. And fuck, the way I’d been with Thom… If this had taught me anything, it was to never take either of them for granted.
18
Sam
Coming home was worse than leaving. Gunner always assumed it was a normal day when I left, so his reaction to me coming home always triggered a guilt trip.
Little shit could give a single look and you knew he was disappointed with you. How on earth a dog could make you feel like shit, I never knew, but he managed it. Every single time.
I was wiped out. The last four days had been the hardest of my career without a doubt. Still, coming home threatened to be harder. Explaining my failure not only to the others, but to Lyla as well, could very easily break me.
Gunner’s sulking gave me the perfect reason to get the hell out. Ryan didn’t question what I was doing when I didn’t take my stuff upstairs, and instead just dumped it in the hallway. I didn’t even take the time to put Gunner’s lead on, I simply opened the front door and let him follow me through it.
Thirty minutes later, we were in the park, him chasing a ball, and me considering taking off for a week since I’d been granted leave under ‘special’ circumstances. Bitterness at being sent home made my stomach hurt. I hadn’t asked for the leave, the warrant officer had given me no choice when he found me using my locker as a punching bag.
I knew before I climbed into the car that coming home had been a mistake. I couldn’t face her. I didn’t want to see the look on her face when she saw me. The guilt at not doing enough for my best friend, for her twin, ate at me.
Ryan kept insisting she didn’t blame me, but how could she not? The looks and sympathetic shoulder squeezes I’d received when I returned from the hospital were enough to have me crawl into a hole. I should’ve seen his pain sooner. Should’ve pushed him to get checked and not allowed him to brush it off. I was the last person he spoke to. The last person he saw, and I shouldn’t have been.
It should have been her, thirty, forty years from now. Or even better, nobody. Him going to bed a happy old lad, falling asleep and no
t waking up. He deserved that. Shit, he deserved to have taken a bullet and at least gone down fighting. Anything was better than his own body fucking betraying him.
“This your master plan, is it?” Thom asked, in his usual gentle tone from behind me.
“Just needed to think,” I explained, as he sat beside me and dropped three more tennis balls on the ground at my feet.
Gunner spotted him and came running. Thom could always be relied upon to have a supply of balls. Ryan was the one to sneak him extra treats. I was the one who let him sleep in the house even though he had a perfectly good pen.
Lloyd had been the one to have him up on the sofa, feeding him whatever junk he was snacking on and thinking the rest of us didn’t know.
Gunner would miss him.
“Ryan said you threatened to move onto camp,” he murmured, throwing a ball for Gunner.
“Can’t with him,” I remarked, nodding towards the dog. I didn’t have to add that if I carried on being destructive, then the army likely wouldn’t have me back, or they’d give me a shit load of conditions first before they’d determine if I was a risk or not. The idea of going back to the army now that I was home made my stomach roil, but a life without it, living as a civilian…
I changed the subject. “How long do you think we have to find somewhere?”
When he didn’t answer, I looked right at him. His smirk was telling. He knew something.
With a grumble, I took the bait he’d dangled. “Alright, what did I miss?”
The bastard had the gall to shrug. “Not much. Let’s just say, for now, everything stays as it is.”
I was confused and I didn’t mind admitting it. “So, what, she’s just renting it to us?”
He shook his head, picking up another ball as Gunner came back and threw it.
Gunner dropped the one he’d retrieved and took off after the new one.
“More than that. She’s taking Lloyd’s room. She had planned to rent somewhere in town once Lloyd came back but… well, she’s in his room, and I’m not banking on her leaving it any time soon.”
I had no idea what to say to that.
A hush settled over us for a moment, and I was quickly getting lost in my head again before Thom broke the silence, and thankfully the hold my dire thoughts had on me.
“You’ll like her,” he assured me, preparing to throw another ball when Gunner did a loop and was on his way back to us. “She’s smart. Funny. Really easy-going. I expected her to be like Lloyd somehow, but she isn’t. Not a bit. Before this all kicked off, she was looking forward to meeting you.”
I’d caught the ‘was’ in his wording. I didn’t blame her. I turned away.
“She’ll be thrilled to finally meet you,” he promised. “She’s just having a hard time. Her wound is a bit of a mess, and she’s on some seriously strong antibiotics. She’s grieving, her divorce has had to go on hold, which must be frustrating, and she needs to get the pain under control so she can sort out a funeral. She’s up against it, mate, and she could probably do with an extra friend.”
I huffed a mirthless laugh. “I got the impression Ryan’s done a good job of befriending her.”
“You picked up on that?” he murmured, a hint of surprise to his tone.
“It’s all I heard about on the way home. He’s fucking obsessed. Mate, I don’t know what happened to you and him, but fuckin’ ‘ell… I’ve never—”
Thom’s laughter cut me off.
“Nothing happened to us. Everything’s fine. He just made room for Lyla.”
I cocked a brow. “He made room?”
Glancing my way, his lips twitched up in the corners. “I didn’t need to. There was always… it’s complicated.”
“No, it isn’t,” I countered. Most people wouldn’t get it, but with them I did. They were together but not together. For her to have become a part of their lives meant a gap had been bridged, for Ryan at least. Thom was… fluid. Thom didn’t over analyse, he just lived in the moment. Sometimes I envied him that. “How’s she coping?”
Thom shrugged. “She’s barely spoken to me. I think Ryan’s managed to get more out of her, but he’ll have bugged her to get that far.”
That was part of my problem. My presence in the house would worsen her grief. How could it not? She’d see my part in his death and ask the same question I asked myself hourly and still couldn’t find the answer to, but if she asked, would it come to me? Would I tell her he died because I missed the signs?
As much as I didn’t want to, I voiced my thoughts. “I don’t want to make things worse for her, and me being there would do that, right?”
He shook his head. “You can’t make this any worse by coming home,” he told me, his tone earnest. “She was going through some stuff, not only the separation, before Lloyd. I don’t want to divulge everything about her, it’s her story to share with who she chooses, but things happen, and now she must be feeling quite alone. She isn’t, though, we’re waiting to be needed, but she won’t be thinking straight. If anything, I think you’ll help her. You’ll be good for one another.”
I couldn’t believe that, could I? But Thom sounded certain. It may have only been a couple weeks for them, but he had the advantage of knowing her far better than me. “If it’s an issue for her, you’ll let me know?”
“I think the bigger issue is going to be her furry mate missing if she comes downstairs,” he replied, nodding to Gunner where he lay a few feet away, and was busy destroying the tennis ball he’d retrieved.
Game over.
With a heavy breath, I got to my feet before I could change my mind. “Is she eating?”
Thom joined me and we set off walking, Gunner following behind. “Not really. She’s picking at food when she has to for the meds. Plenty of fluids are going in though.”
My medic training kicked in and gave me something to focus on. “And her wounds?”
His blue eyes stormed as they flicked to mine briefly. “I haven’t seen them, but the nurses said they were larger than average. They opened her up rather than try to keyhole her, and from what the doctor said, it was fucking carnage. She’s lucky to be alive.”
She was alive because of him. Because she was with him and Ry. Unlike Lloyd, because he was with me. I pushed the thought away and cleared my throat. “She should pick up in a few days. As long as the infection is under control.”
He nodded and kept walking.
Being in such a rush to get out, I hadn’t noticed the small changes before, but standing in the hall with Gunner and Thom forced me to take in my surroundings.
Lloyd’s jacket wasn’t slung over the end of the bannister like it used to be. Instead, there was a handbag. An extra set of keys was plonked on the hall table beside the phone, and I recognised the car key on them as belonging to a Mercedes. The swanky Mercedes parked on the drive.
It smelled different. A new air freshener or a new cleaning product of some kind? Someone had cooked, I assumed Ryan, but had cleaned up straight away. I could faintly pick out the smell of the dishwashing liquid and kitchen cleaner he preferred.
Being away from home made you remember it so much more, but these subtle changes only seemed to accentuate the biggest one of all.
Ryan was still in the kitchen—that was clear from the way Gunner made a beeline for the door—so I pushed my sullen thoughts aside, took a breath, and followed the dog.
Shocked, I stood at the kitchen door and peered inside. Everything was scrubbed within an itch of its life and the culprit was still cleaning. Wide-eyed, I spluttered, “Fuckin’ ‘ell, mate, she’s got you trained.”
My jibe didn’t hit home. Instead of throwing a smart remark back, Ryan abandoned his wiping down of the worktops and made right for me.
He’d always been physical. After a few drinks, his arm would be hooked around my neck and he’d be speaking directly into my ear. More usual at home was the way he’d greet me with a friendly slap on the shoulder, even at six in the morning. Ryan was just that guy
, I suppose that’s why his relationship with Thom had gone entirely unnoticed.
This was completely different though. It was an apology. It was understanding. It was concern and grief and brotherly love all forced into that one, insufficient gesture.
Hands balled into fists, he pulled me into a tight hug. The six inches he had on me were even more pronounced when he bent his head and pressed his temple into mine. But he didn’t speak. Not a single word.
Before, with the others, it hadn’t been like this. It was a drink, a celebration, remembering the good times. That was what Ryan needed, but I didn’t have it in me. Not yet. That he respected that meant a lot.
“Ry, I need a piss,” I managed to grumble. I didn’t, but I needed to get him off me before he got emotional. “Is she in bed?”
Ryan stepped back and glanced at Thom before answering, “Yeah. I left her some pasta and Bolognese to eat about twenty minutes ago, if that goes cold it won’t be too bad to pick at later. I made us lasagne, it’s in the oven.”
“I dumped your bag in your room,” Thom told me, stepping into the kitchen to allow me by. “The machine is empty if you need it.”
I turned to leave, but stopped short and responded, “Cheers. I’ve got some leave, so I’ll catch up on laundry later. I’ll just get out of these and be down for dinner.”
Neither answered, and I left them with Gunner while I made for the stairs. I didn’t think, I just climbed, bypassing the bathroom, not looking at Lloyd’s bedroom door, and going directly to the second staircase opposite Ryan’s room.
There was no lower door, so I was able to continue up the stairs without alerting Lyla to my arrival.
It was strange, but aside from the new scents and feminine items scattered throughout, the house didn’t feel too different. Same number of people here. Same evening routine.
Opening my bedroom door as quietly as possible, I found my room to be as I left it, minus the large camouflage bag leaning against my wardrobe. I couldn’t be bothered to deal with it then, I was exhausted. Instead, I gathered what I needed and resolved to take a quick shower before heading down for dinner.
