“Yeah, and helping the old dear that runs it diversify the menu a bit. There’s a big Asian community on the nearby estate, but Sheila only knows how to cook meat and two veg.”
“That’s one way of utilising your noodle skills.”
Jamie laughed. “Yeah, I’ll have to expand on them, though. That’s what I was doing last night when I fell asleep on the couch—studying your mum’s curry bibles.”
Marc’s brain belatedly registered the pile of cookery books he’d nearly tripped over in his hurry to reach Jamie. How had something so innocent turned into the most complicated conversation he’d ever had? “When do you start?”
“I haven’t been offered it yet. And I’m not sure I’d take it, even if I was.”
“Because you’re worried you’ll break it?”
“Yes.”
Jamie turned his face back to the window, and Marc let him be. Jamie’s logic didn’t always make sense to him, but it was obvious that Jamie wanted to take the job, and what faith Marc had left was firmly rooted in the hope that Jamie would think his way out of his flux.
An hour or so later, they arrived in Hereford. Jamie sat up in his seat. “This is where your Army friend lives?”
“A few of them, actually. But Nat’s the only one who’s ever around. He’s a trainer, so he stays on base.”
“The base here?”
“Yup.” Marc kept his eyes on the road, trying to ignore the familiar scenery. He hadn’t called Hereford home since he’d left half his body in the dusty desert, and each time he returned felt more and more like walking on the moon.
“Were you stationed here too?”
Marc glanced at Jamie. “For a while.”
Jamie’s eyes flashed with understanding, and it was his turn to let it go. No one had seen through Marc like Jamie did, but Jamie was clearly astute enough to realise that Marc couldn’t answer whatever question had been next in the queue. He had to be, or they wouldn’t have got this far.
Nat’s house was a mile away from the old RAF base the regiment had moved to in ’99. Marc pulled up outside, glad that the fading afternoon light would give the bright-yellow car some cover, and unsurprised to see Nat on the front steps, watching and waiting, his eyes as sharp as they’d ever been.
Marc turned the engine off and got out of the car without looking at Jamie. In recent years, he’d spent months at a time avoiding Nat, but whenever they came face-to-face, it was the same—theywere the same—and for a brief moment, the age lines and greying hair disappeared, and they were back on their first team patrol in Basra. Never quite young and idealistic, perhaps they’d once been lighter.
Nat grasped Marc’s outstretched hand and pulled him in for a backslapping hug. He smelled like earth and rain, and the musty scent of gunpowder and sand, even though it had been a decade since Nat had deployed overseas.
Marc drew back and gave Nat the once-over. He was older, but weren’t they all? And his fair complexion and fearsome blue eyes were as alluring as they’d always been. But more than that, Nat looked well, and as happy as any man who’d seen the shit he’d seen could be. “All right, mate?”
Nat nodded, then his gaze drifted over Marc’s shoulder. “Who’s your friend?”
Marc turned in time to see Connor greeting Jamie with a handshake and the kind of warm smile that most people had to fight to draw from Nat. “Jamie. He’s helping me clear out the house.”
“’Bout fucking time.” Nat stepped around Marc and shook Jamie’s hand. “Nice to meet you. Come inside.”
Nat and Jamie went into the house, but Marc lingered to wrap his arms around Connor. “It’s good to see you, man.”
“You too.” Connor returned Marc’s embrace. “It’s been too long. Nat worries about you.”
“There’s no need. I’m doing just fine. How’s things around here?”
“Same as ever.” Connor shrugged. “The place never changes, but the faces do.”
Marc snorted. “Not yours.”
It was a long-running joke that Connor was the only member of their small group to never age. Though older than Marc, his face was free of lines, and his smile resonated, like he meant it more than the rest of them.
“Tell me about Jamie,” Connor said quietly. “He didn’t want to leave your side, even for the few moments we’ve been out here.”
Damn it. Marc had figured Nat to be the one who would see through him so fast. He hadn’t banked on Connor. “We’re friends. He takes care of me, and I try to return the favour... when he lets me.”
