‘What does that mean?’
For a beat, I consider lying to her. It’s what I should do. It’s what I can’t bring myself to.Have I always been honest with her?If I haven’t, I now want more than anything else to be so.
‘Prevent those UK citizens who’d joined the terrorists from slinking back home.’
‘To capture them.’ It’s a statement, not a question. It’s a statement that’s wrong.
I shrug, but in my quest for honesty, I answer, ‘Mostly, we just killed them.’ As a doctor, I suppose I’d expected her reaction to be worse but there’s barely a ripple of recognition in her expression. ‘It’s not like we could rock up to their bases, knock on the front door and politely request they hand themselves over to the authorities, is it? Or even ask them nicely never to return to Blighty.’
‘No, of course. But hard for you to do, Ben. There’s no need to be cavalier on my account.’
‘There’s nothing careless about killing, but it’s the job. It’s what I was trained to do. To think. To kill. I’m not mindless about it or gung-ho but what it boils down to is a question of them or us. Killing the enemy in the desert or letting them sneak back to the UK to kill little girls at their first pop concert, or families as they shop at the mall.
‘Out there, it’s different, Nell. It’s not real, and yet it’s so fucking real. It’s a dull orange haze on the horizon, dust coating every crease in your skin. It’s sweat that dries before it leaves your pores and its men who are more than family, and it’s those you kill but don’t hate because they don’t even register on your scale of humanity.’
The sights I’ve seen. The smell of decay and burning flesh. The sensation of an explosion beneath your boots, knowing the destruction is happening miles away, and there’s fuck all you can do. It’s craters in roads strewn with twisted metal and ancient cities that look like a scene from the Book of Revelation. It’s fucking hell.
‘Don’t cry,’ I tell her, looking away. ‘I don’t need pitying. I just need you to understand I can’t risk any more friends.’
‘I’m not crying,’ she replies, striking the tears from her face. ‘I’m sad for you. I’m sad for myself. But, Ben, do you think you’re the only one who has seen death? I’ve delivered full-term babies that had long since passed to mothers who weep through their labour knowing the blessing at the end of their pain was to be denied to them. I get it. No amount of training prepares you for a role in someone else’s tragedy.’
‘He died, Nell. It wasn’t nature that killed him. It was me.’
‘How did he die?’
My heart sinks. ‘A sniper. One I should’ve seen.’
‘Have you... have you talked to someone about this?’
‘What does it matter? It’s not going to change what happened. I can only look to the future. And Nell, you’ve been a dream. You were never real. Just a fantasy.’
‘But now I’m a liability in your eyes?’
‘You’ve got it wrong.’ I push off from the sink, making my way over to her. Her dark eyes are sad, but at least they aren’t repulsed. I should’ve known she’d get it. If I hadn’t been so wrapped up in the fantasy, I might’ve noticed that she’d suffered, too. ‘I’m accountable,’ I whisper, taking her head in my hands as I swallow the words I long to say but can’t. ‘I’m safeguarding my men.’ And I’m protecting my heart.
As Mel’s footsteps sound on the stairs, Nell pulls at my hands, moving swiftly away. My jaw clenches as my hands ball into fists. Just because I can’t have her doesn’t mean I no longer want her. Why does it make me feel so bitter that she’d refuse to acknowledge what she means to me?Because you didn’t tell her, you fuckwit.
‘Okay,’ Melody announces, stomping into the room and heading for Nell’s phone charger. ‘Now that the battery has some juice let’s look at the damage.’
Damage. I want to cause some damage. Why does my sister have no tact? Can’t she see there are people here trying very hard to execute a non-break up?
‘Maybe you should leave Nell to look herself,’ I gripe. ‘Unless you’re just keeping your eye on what the dating market has to offer? You know, just in case.’
‘Dating market?’ Nell belatedly.
Look at me, Nell. Fucking look at me.
‘The meat market that is Tinder,’ I add bitterly as her eyes touch mine only briefly. Next to me, Mel snorts, her gaze glued to the phone in her hand.
‘Well, you would know,’ she mutters
‘That smacks of double standards,’ I announce, turning to Mel. ‘It’s okay for you to sign Nell up to Tinder but I’m a whore for using the same app?’
‘There’s a difference,’ she snaps. ‘Pennydoesn’t screw around,’ she says pointedly, looking up from the phone. Her gaze slides to Nell but rather than warmth, what I see in that look is more like an examination. ‘And the sooner she finds someone, the better for her,’ she mutters.
So that’s what this is. Unlike my first assumption, this isn’t double standards. This is a moment of clarity for my sister and a moment of disappointment for me.
‘That’s just fucking perfect,’ I say with a sharp bark of something I think might be laughter.Though I’m feeling very fucking unamused.From the other side of the kitchen, Nell almost jumps. I want to storm out—want to snatch the phone from Mel’s hand and stamp on it. Then, for good measure, grind it with the heel of my combat boot. And all this because I know what’s coming. I know what she’s doing, and why. And I hate every minute of it. Even though I can see it for what it is. My sister is trying o protect her friend.
