“Gone?” Disbelief flickers in Skylar’s grey eyes. “Gonewhere?”
“I don’t know,” I say honestly. “I can only tell you he won’t be anywhere we can reach him for a while.”
Skylar processes that at warp speed. Compared to me at least. “So what? He’s a fucking soldier again?”
“No.Christ, no. He’s a civvy now, he’s not operational.”
“What is he then?”
“Advisory. They need his knowledge, not his boots. He knows the ground, knows the men?—”
“Jack, he has PTSD.”
“I know?—”
“And a fucking heart defect that nearly got him killed before.”
“I know that too.” I’ve forgotten so many things, but the day Regiment soldiers came to tell me my brother was unconscious in a German military hospital will haunt me forever. “And so do they.”
“So why the fuck would they pull him back?”
“Because he said yes.”
Emotion starts to seep through Skylar’s bewildered anger. He finds the couch and sits down, dragging a hand through his messy hair. “Said yes to what, exactly?”
I repeat myself. Elaborate as much as I have the brain power for. “It’s not a deployment. He won’t be near weapons. He’ll be in a room with maps and screens trying to figure out what his old crew would do in any scenario he can think of.”
“What if he thinks too hard and it breaks him?”
Zero hesitation hinders my answer. “Then you’ll put him back together when he comes home. Just like Sol does every fucking day for me.”
Skylar’s a tough crowd. But he’s self-aware enough to sense what Mal’s asked of me without me having to say it.
He eats the breakfast Sol cooks and stays with us long enough that we know he keeps it down.
Then he goes to bed and leaves his door open.
AndIneed to open the Joker. Sol needs to sail to who the fuck knows where to earn a living for himself and his father both.
But we don’t leave.
We don’t even go downstairs. Instead, we lie on my bed and talk through the morning, shoulder to shoulder, until we roll onto our sides and our legs entwine.
I could easily fall asleep. An early wake-up combined with the stress of Mal’s sudden absence has left me dizzy. But this quiet time with Sol…it blows my mind I’m only just realising how precious it is. Or maybe I’m only just remembering. Either way, I don’t let myself ponder it too hard. I watch Sol’s brows dance as he talks, track every emotion passing over his beautiful face, and it’s better than a nap. Better than therapy. Better than a dream.
“Do you know where he’s going?”
I tune back into the conversation.
Mal. Sol’s asking where my brother is going, and I answer with a slow shake of my head, a denial that’ll be a lie if I say it out loud. “He’ll route through Cyprus to get there. Hitch a ride on whatever aircraft is going that way.”
“How long will he stay out there? Until it’s done?”
“That’s not an easy question to answer.”
“Sorry, Jackie.” Sol rubs my shoulder. “I’m just trying to understand. So we can be there for Skylar better.”
For Skylar. Of course. Sol never does anything for himself. Maybe that’s why I love taking him apart with my mouth so much. Because it’s the only time I ever see him let himself have something without putting the whole world first.