“Me too.”
I bet she says that to all her clients. Deep down, I hope I’m wrong, and she really makes an exception for me, but I’m not an idiot. I know how these things go. “Tell me more about your mum.”
“After the stroke, she lost her mobility. She needed care and had to go into a home. Now she's away with the fairies most of the time.”
“That must be difficult.” I remember all of this. I’d just left the army and was still married to Fern.
“The hardest thing was moving out and getting my own place when she went into a home. It was the only way we could afford to pay for her care. We had to sell our family home. The money’s ran out now. We can’t afford the top-up fees where she is, and we have until Christmas to find her a more affordable home.”
This hadn’t even crossed my mind. It makes sense that she might be doing this to pay for her mum’s care.
“I moved in with my sister and her husband for a while. They helped me save for my own place.”
“What was that like, living with your sister and her husband?” I can’t help myself. I hold my breath, wondering what she really thought of living with me and Fern.
“I miss it.”
“Huh?” That wasn’t what I was expecting her to say. A smile spreads across my face under my mask. The sisters were always close even with their eleven year age gap, but living together proved somewhat difficult. They’d argue and then be totally fine ten minutes later, as if it never happened.
I’ve never had a sibling. Kane and Dom are the closest things to brothers that I have, but we’d never argue to the point of scratching each other’s eyes out. Five minutes later ask if the other wanted a cup of tea.
“It’s nice having my own space, but it’s really lonely coming home to an empty house.” She has that sad smile again. “Tonight with my nephew has probably been the highlight of my week.”
“I thought I was the highlight of your week.”
She lets out a small giggle. “Of course, but I meant at home. Like we have fun, but then it’s just me in the house alone. You know?” Her mouth opens in a yawn. “Like just having my nephew in the next room is comforting.”
“I’m guessing you want kids someday?” My chest caves, knowing exactly what she’s going to say. Fern and I tried to have a baby for two years before she left me. When I found out she was pregnant a year later, it confirmed my worst fears that something was wrong with me. If I couldn’t give my wife a kid eight years ago, what chance is there now?
“I would love kids. As soon as I’ve finished my training and got my nursing qualifications, I may look into IVF.”
My brows pull inwards. “Why would you need IVF?”
“Because I’m not getting any younger, and I don’t exactly have men lining up to be in a relationship with me. So I figured the only way for me to have a child is to get a sperm donor.”
The thought of her carrying someone else’s kid makes my stomach churn. If anyone should be putting a baby inside her, it’s me. Only that’s the one thing I don’t think I can give her. That and a fucking relationship. I clench my fist and open it again.
The right thing would be to end our calls and stop this before it goes any further. I’m not sure how she feels, but I’m falling hard for my little sister-in-law and it isn’t going to end well for either of us. If she finds out it’s me, our friendship is over and all I can offer her is a shadow of myself on these calls.
“What about you? Do you want kids?” she whispers, tapping the phone. Her soothing voice, paired with her nails tapping the screen, sends tingles down my spine.
“I’d love kids, but it’s not on the cards for me.”
“How come?”
I let out a sigh. “Because I’m not getting any younger.” I run my hand over the fabric covering my face. “And it’s not something I’m able to produce.”
“Oh.” Her eyes dull for a moment. “You’ve had the snip?”
“Yeah.” There’s no need to go into detail of how I’ve tried in the past so I let her believe it was through choice. “You can get those ops reversed. It’s worth a shot if a family’s something you want.”
“It’s not in my future, nightingale.” I rub the ache in my chest. It’s the thing I want most in the world, but I gave up on the idea a long time ago. “In my line of work, I see so much negativity. It’s difficult to think about wanting to bring another life into this world and shield it from the scumbags around here, not to mention the shackles we’re all born into.” It’s what I tell myself, anyway. Makes it seem bearable.
“Do all soldiers think the same?”
I’ve said too much. “Probably. Being on tour does make you kind of cynical.”
“So why do you do it?” The small crease furrows on her brow.
