Detachment

by Shae Banks

  “Chin up,” I instructed, when I got closer.

  He kept his eyes on me as I fastened the remaining two shirt buttons and lifted his shirt collar. Taking the tie, I positioned the two ends just right to allow me to do the full Windsor knot Lloyd had needed to perfect when joining the army. While in cadets, he’d had to use a half Windsor, and while he’d mastered that, his fingers always fumbled with the more complicated one.

  “I want you in the car with us,” I explained, as I expertly went through the ten steps to perfecting the tie, before pulling it through the top on the last step and straightening it. “Don’t argue, the car’s for family. You’re his family.”

  He swallowed, his Adam’s apple brushing my fingers as they swept past when I began to fold his collar over. “The family he chose anyway. I wasn’t the best sister—” He opened his mouth to protest, but I cut him off immediately. “Don’t. I spent a week in that bedroom thinking. I could have done a lot of things differently, instead I did what was expected, and what was easier for me. I just didn’t realise it at the time. That’s my regret to live with.”

  “Okay,” he conceded, a small line forming between is brows. “What about your dad?”

  I raised one shoulder. “I tried three more times after we got back with Gunner the other day. He didn’t answer his phone, but he read the messages. As far as I’m concerned, that qualifies as not interested.” I paused, thinking twice about what I was about to say. Closing my eyes, I exhaled. “Sam, I know how hard this has been for you, and I know you’re working through it, but I don’t want you to feel as though you have to do it alone. I’m not Lloyd, but I can be here for you.”

  His eyes glistened, and I glanced away as he wrestled to get the tears under control.

  My fingers moved around his neck as I double-checked that the collar was folded properly in the back, and then smoothed down the tails of his tie against his chest. Perfect. With an appraising smile, I reached up and ran my fingers through his hair, mussing it. “All you need now is to get this sorted.”

  Pulling away, he wrinkled his nose. I liked his little expressions, the boyish charm they gave him. He was only a little taller than me, two or three inches, but my shoes usually made up for most of that. His shoulders were broad, I assumed from the amount of equipment he had to carry as a field medic, his arms toned, and his waist narrower than I’d expect. I’d never really paid attention before, but his muscular build belied his quiet nature.

  Gaze flicking from his eyes to his mouth, I mirrored his smile and reached up on the tips of my toes. He looked so… God, he was gorgeous. Forlorn. Innocent. Sexy and adorable. I hadn’t planned to kiss him, the thought had never crossed my mind before, but before I knew it, my lips were on his.

  They were soft and warm, and he parted them slightly as mine came into contact.

  That should have been when I stepped away. When I said something about waiting for him downstairs. When I did anything other than part mine also.

  For a second, he was frozen, we both were, suspended in a moment of mutual surprise, but I didn’t pull away. I didn’t want to.

  Running my hands over his shoulders, I deepened the kiss, tentatively tracing his lower lip with my tongue. There was a hint of mint and something else. Clove, maybe. Whatever it was, it was warm and inviting, much like his aftershave that was suddenly prominent.

  Then something changed.

  His hands found my waist, his tongue found mine, and I was no longer the one in control.

  My pulse increased, my body heating at his touch.

  Then as quick as it started, he slowed it back down. His touch was gentle, his grip on my waist light, the soft caresses of his lips not meant to entice but to convey. Gratitude? Appreciation? I didn’t know which, I couldn’t focus well enough to decipher the meaning behind it, but when his hands took mine, our fingers lacing, and he stepped closer so every part of our bodies touched, I felt it in the way his body relaxed.

  Relief.

  I felt it too. I wasn’t alone. I had him. I had Ryan, Thom, and Gunner. We’d all lost Lloyd, but we still had each other.

  It was me who stepped back, breaking the intense moment of togetherness I’d never imagined sharing with him. At least, I hadn’t consciously thought of him in any other context than a friend. I had Thom. Ryan. We were new, but we were… we.

  His eyes searched mine as he traced his bottom lip with his tongue.

  “I…” With my heart still racing I fought to find the words. I shouldn’t have done that. Not today. What about the guys? How would that have made Sam feel? He was enthusiastic in the moment, but his emotions were all over. He was struggling, and I’d likely just made everything worse.

  Not wanting things to become strained between us, I swallowed and tried to compose myself. “Will you be down soon? I don’t want to be on my own when the cars arrive…”

  With our fingers still laced, Sam peered down and squeezed gently. “I’ll be there in a couple of minutes. Wait in the kitchen, that way you won’t see when he arrives. Hopefully, Thom and Ry will be back in time and they can get the door if I’m…” He trailed off and let out a shaky breath. “I’ll be down in ten.”

  He released my hands and I took another step back before I spun on my heel and headed for the open door.

  I didn’t look back. I couldn’t.

  The limousine was spacious enough for us to sit comfortably apart. I got in first, followed by Ryan who sat on my left, then Sam sat opposite me, and Thom opposite Ryan.

  “You okay, babe?” Ryan inquired, as he took my hand and laced our fingers together.

  I glanced at him and smiled. “Yeah. You?” I peered around the three of them as I asked, not aiming the question at any one of them.

  They each replied with nods.

  Regarding Sam, I realised he appeared to be on edge. I hoped that wasn’t my fault.

  “How many should we expect?” Ryan questioned, giving Thom his attention.

  “Probably a couple dozen,” he estimated. “With the service being so late in the day, most of the lads will take an early stack to attend.”

  “Did he have a girlfriend?” I asked, and shifted to peer out the window as the car began to move. I’d tried so hard to ignore the car in front, to keep my focus away from the single, miserable flower arrangement on top of the casket. If Lloyd had his way, he wouldn’t have had flowers, but I’d always hated to see a procession with no arrangement at all, so I’d ordered a casket length teardrop arrangement in his favourite football team’s colours. My message was simple and heartfelt, not that I expected it to be read by anyone.

  “No,” Thom replied, his voice thick with suppressed emotion. “There was someone… but they weren’t officially together.”

  “Will she be there?” I asked. Not that I wanted to meet her, just curious whether she would show up.

  Sam cleared his throat. “She texted me last night. She’ll be at the service, but not the wake. Didn’t want to upset family.”

  I frowned. “Why would her attendance bother me?”

  “Because meeting your deceased family member’s fuck buddy isn’t usually something people expect to have to navigate?” Ryan suggested.

  I snorted at this bluntness.

  Thom kicked his foot.

  “What?” he asked innocently. “They’d probably have sorted their shit out eventually, but they were on and off like a fridge light. I don’t blame her for not wanting to meet his family now.”

  Sam lowered his head and rubbed his forehead with his index finger.

  I leaned forward and placed my hand on his knee. “Sam?”

  “I’m fine,” he groused quietly. “Ryan, just stop for five minutes, yeah?”

  An uneasy silence settled over the car.

  “He pulled a wart off his foot and ate it once,” I remarked absently, while I scrutinised the town as it passed by outside the window.

  The three of them glared at me.

  “That’s the memory?” Ryan aske
d in disbelief. “That’s the one?”

  Thom started to laugh.

  “Apparently,” I replied, before hiding a smirk by pressing my lips tightly together. “He was just a disgusting child. He used to come and sit on my bed to bite his toenails and spit them at me.”

  “Christ,” Sam muttered, crossing one foot over a knee. “If I did that to my sister, she’d have gouged my eyes out.”

  “Oh no, I wouldn’t dare,” I announced. “He’d get me in a headlock and rub my scalp with his knuckles until I cried. I was such a wimp.”

  “Poor, Hagrid,” Sam whined, but ruined it by smirking.

  Thom and Ryan had no idea what he was talking about, but I erupted into giggles while struggling to keep the tears at bay.

  “That’s what he called her when they were kids,” Sam explained, gesturing a huge Afro with his hands at the sides of his head.

  Thom smirked, Ryan frowned.

  Before Ryan managed to say anything, the car slowed to a stop, and I peered out of my window again.

  We’d arrived at the cemetery. The only reason I knew was because the tips of railings were barely visible over the heads of many people who filled the grounds and were spilling onto the pavement.

  “Bloody hell,” I murmured, trying to get a handle on how many people must be here. It was too many to count, and enough to ensure no headstones were visible from where I sat.

  “He was well liked,” Thom explained, as one of the funeral attendants, dressed in the same black suit as his colleagues, opened the car door for me.

  I had no idea. Why would I? My marriage had replaced every relationship I had before it, and while Lloyd had forcefully maintained a foot in the door, so to speak, we didn’t know much about one another anymore.

  I got out of the car without a word, ignoring the twinge of discomfort in my abdomen caused by the awkward movement.

  Waiting by the car for the guys, I looked over the cemetery. There had to be a hundred people attending, some in suits and what appeared to be the same regimental tie I’d assisted Sam with, others in just black trousers and white shirts like Thom and Ryan. There were a few in casual clothes, their brighter summer t-shirts were dotted throughout the sea of black and white.

  A hand on my right shoulder interrupted my thoughts. “Are you ready, love?”

  Thom kept a respectful distance, keeping any hint of our true relationship under wraps, but the pressure of his fingers on my shoulder was reminiscent of his touch the night before. And the night before that.

  Ryan took no such precautions. He stepped in front of me and bent to kiss me. “Whatever you need, anytime. Let me know and I’m on it,” he murmured, cupping my cheek with his right hand.

  Sam got out of the car, taking up position on my left, but he didn’t say anything. He didn’t need to, I knew how he was feeling. I’d been there the week before. The only difference was that I wasn’t reliving my brother’s death over and over.

  23

  Lyla

  It was getting rowdy. Almost everyone had left once the drinks started flowing, leaving behind Lloyd’s comrades. Some were with him on his first deployment, others only saw him while they were at the barracks, but everyone said the same thing—he was a good guy, fun, it was a shame, a waste of a young life. Even Betty, to my surprise, had travelled from London to attend the funeral. She’d made the effort, and it made me feel guilty for not keeping in contact with her more after everything that had happened. I’d caught sight of her throughout the wake, sitting at a table with a group of guys, but I couldn’t see them or her, so I assumed they’d left with everyone else.

  The officers in charge of Lloyd, in particular his major, Niall Blackwood, had extended their sympathies and left well over an hour ago, and the lads were now drinking heavily. All except Sam.

  He sat by my side with a coke he’d hardly touched the entire afternoon. He barely spoke, but twice I reached for his hand and he allowed me to hold it for a few minutes before inching away. I didn’t know if it was discomfort following our earlier exchange, or just a need for space. I didn’t pry.

  “I’ve had enough,” I announced, as I leaned close to him to be heard over the noise. “Are you coming home or staying for a few drinks?”

  He scanned the room. Being the only one sober wouldn’t be much fun, but I wondered if he was weighing tolerating that against being alone with me again.

  “I’ll come home. Thom can handle that mess,” he replied, deciding at length and nodding towards the bar. “I’ll just—”

  I followed his gaze to the bar where Ryan swayed with one arm hooked around another man’s neck, recounting some story or other to the group around them.

  Thom was seated a few feet away, watchful but not taking part. I left our table and walked towards him.

  His smile was melancholy, but he reached out an arm and held me around the backs of my thighs as I explained, “I’m going to call a taxi. Sam’s had enough and I’m exhausted.”

  “We won’t be too late,” he claimed, kissing my cheek. “You make the call, and I’ll drag him outside for a minute so we can wait with you.”

  I nodded and our eyes met briefly. He seemed troubled. I expected grief, even anger, and I was about to ask what was wrong when he released my legs. I was forced to step back to allow him room to stand. With a smile of reassurance, he vowed, “I’ll be right out.”

  Accepting the dismissal, I pushed through the door as I dug through my handbag for my phone. Sam, I assumed, had gone to the bathroom.

  The evening was warm and bright, and I had to resist the urge to tip my head back to enjoy the warmth on my face for a moment. I opted to sit at a table by the door while I searched for a local taxi number.

  “It was a lovely service,” a familiar, if unwelcome voice commented. “Distinct lack of praise to God though.”

  Shoulders rigid with tension, I looked up, shielding my eyes from the glare of the setting sun, and squinted.

  It was definitely him. He was wearing his usual work ensemble—black pinstripe trousers, brogues, white shirt starched within an inch of its life, and a maroon tie. His suit jacket must have been in the car.

  “Why are you here?” I demanded, and it was a demand. He had no reason to be, he fucking hated Lloyd.

  With a haughty sniff, he moved closer, but upon realising how tense I was, he relaxed his stance. “I thought it right to attend. He was my brother-in-law, after all.”

  I didn’t like his tone. He was too relaxed, but I fought to keep my tone civil and replied, “Oh, well, thanks for coming. It’s a long way, he’d have appreciated the gesture.”

  With effort, I returned my attention back to my phone and resumed my search for a taxi number, and silently prayed he’d get the message.

  Unfortunately not.

  His shoes stepped into my view. “I hoped we could talk.”

  I ignored him and made my call. “Hello, can I get a taxi from The Kings, please? George’s Close. Yes. Thank you very much.”

  “Lyla,” he coaxed, his voice uncharacteristically soft. “Please, love.”

  He’d never used an endearment in all the time I’d known him. I was Lyla. Nothing more. That he chose the same term of endearment Thom, and sometimes Ryan used, set my stomach churning.

  “There’s nothing to say,” I muttered, and scrutinised the door to the pub. Where was Thom? If ever I needed him, or any of them, to just turn up, it was now. Not to save me, but to bolster my resolve. I didn’t want to talk. I didn’t want to see him. All I wanted, needed, was to go home.

  “The better part of a decade really ought to count for something,” he retorted, his tone heavy with disappointment as he held out his hand. “It does to me.”

  A confrontation with my soon-to-be ex-husband on the day of my brother’s funeral wasn’t in my top one hundred things to do, but it wasn’t as simple as hanging up the phone with him standing there in front of me.

  Still grasping my phone, I relented. Fine, let him have his say and lea
ve, I resolved in my head as I left the table.

  I didn’t take his offered hand, but walked at his side. Why I blindly followed, I’ll never know. The only reasoning I could put my carelessness down to was because I was exhausted, grieving, and I just wanted him to go away.

  Not to mention that doing as Francis said had become second nature. I supposed old habits die hard.

  He’d parked at the bottom of the car park, his Jaguar SUV well out of view of the pub, and unlocked the car as he approached.

  He wanted privacy. That was just perfect. I don’t know what he thought I was going to do, I’d never been one for fits of rage no matter how much of an asshole he’d been. But with his misogynistic attitude, he wouldn’t want anyone hearing what I had to say, no matter how discreet I could be. However, I wasn’t sure I had the energy for manners. I just wanted to go home.

  Regardless of how exhausted I felt, I got in the passenger side and the moment the door was closed, he reached for my hands.

  “I’ve missed you so much,” he confessed, leaning towards me. Repulsed, I pulled back, losing my grip on my phone.

  Francis used my clumsiness as an opportunity to pluck it from my fumbling fingers. He took it into his right hand, turning it off with a quick press of the button on the side, and dropped it in the door storage pocket on the driver’s side.

  “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” I demanded, turning in my seat.

  Mistake.

  The newly healed wound in my side pulled and pain shot through my abdomen, causing me to hiss through my teeth.

  “What’s wrong?” For the first time in years, he sounded genuinely concerned for me.

  Too uncomfortable to laugh at the irony, I shook my head. “I had surgery four weeks ago. Appendix.”

  “Good God…” His face showed his disgust, but he grasped my hand, and only tightened when I tried to pull my hand from his.

  The tiniest spark of fear travelled down my spine when I thought he wasn’t going to let go, but after a moment, he allowed me to pull away. I didn’t want him to touch me. I didn’t want his concern.