Chapter Six Collateral Damage #2
Reece had a presence that filled a room, even if he barely said a word. He had that… history feel to him. A man who’d take up space in someone’s bed— Freddie’s bed? —without ever fully stepping into their life. The kind who never had to ask twice.
Nathan recognised the type. He’d served with plenty like him.
Loud, confident, all swagger and easy charm.
He’d slept with a few, too. No strings, no questions, just heat and distraction in foreign beds and barracks bunks.
He’d told himself it was for release. Something to pass the time between deployments.
But underneath the bravado, he knew exactly what he was doing.
Papering over the silence. Trying to forget the one man who’d always made him feel more than muscle and duty .
“Bike’s been making a weird clicking when I downshift.
” Reece directed those words Nathan’s way.
“Brought it in Friday, but Ron said he doesn’t touch bikes.
Told me to try again today. Said his son was about, knows a thing or two.
That you?” He held out a gloved hand, smile easy but a little too knowing.
Nathan wiped his palm on the edge of his overalls before taking it. The grip was firm. Meant to impress.
“Nathan.” He angled his head. “Pull it round to the side. I’ll take a look once I’m done here.”
“ Nathan , huh?” Reece echoed with a raised brow, already swinging one leg back over the bike. He revved it once, the engine snarling under him, then turned it with a smirk as if he could feel every inch of tension he’d walked into.
Freddie still hadn’t said a word. He’d shoved his hands deep in his coat pockets, eyes fixed anywhere but on Nathan. Or this Reece, whoever he was.
Nathan turned back to the Peugeot, the open engine bay suddenly feeling colder than it had minutes ago. The warmth that had bloomed in his chest at the sound of Freddie’s voice was gone. Snuffed out like a spark in rainwater.
The engine hissed as it cooled, and Nathan leant in, checking the ignition coils, trying to focus.
But then he heard Reece again, boots scuffing across the forecourt, his low laugh too close and Nathan glanced up in time to see him crowding into Freddie’s space, whispering in his ear.
Then he had to witness that massive, leather-gloved hand land squarely on Freddie’s arse.
Nathan tightened his grip on the wrench almost as hard as he clenched his jaw.
Freddie elbowed Reece in the ribs and muttered a warning, but not before Nathan’s hand slipped, caught the lip of the manifold housing, and a jagged edge bit deep into the side of his finger.
“Fuck.” He hissed through his teeth, yanking his hand back. Blood welled fast, running down his knuckle and smearing over the grease on his palm.
He straightened from the bonnet, wrapping his hand in the oily rag and clenching his fist to stop the bleeding.
Freddie looked over then, eyes wide with something like guilt. Or worse, pity.
Nathan looked away.
The cut stung, but not half as much as the sight of Reece still standing there, grinning as if he’d pissed a line in the snow to mark his territory.
“You alright?” Freddie inched closer.
Nathan didn’t look at him as he wrapped the oily rag tighter around his finger.
“Yeah. Caught it on a burr near the intake. Nothing major.” He forced himself to meet Freddie’s gaze, then jerked his chin towards the open bonnet.
“Looks like one of your spark plugs has worked itself loose. That knock you’re hearing?
It’s misfiring under load. Could’ve been rattling for a while without you noticing. ”
Freddie nodded and Nathan brushed past him towards the side bench, flexing his injured hand.
“I’ll grab a plaster. Then torque it down properly and check the rest while I’m at it.”
He didn’t wait for a reply.
Because his chest already felt tight, and the last thing he needed, worse than the sting of the cut or the heat creeping up his neck, was Freddie looking at him like that. As if he still cared. As if it meant something.
Nathan wasn’t ready to bleed in front of him twice.
So he turned away, retreating through the clatter and hum of the garage to the tiny office tucked behind the oil- streaked walls where his dad sat hunched over paperwork. He looked up as Nathan opened the battered first aid tin on the shelf.
“What you done?”
“Caught it on the edge of the manifold.”
Ron grunted. “Not used to it anymore, eh?”
Nathan didn’t answer. He could’ve. Could’ve rattled off his years of experience stripping rifles and rebuilding field-grade engines in brutal weather, under pressure, half-starved and sleep-deprived.
Could’ve said he’d kept an entire platoon’s gear working through two tours.
That fixing an old Peugeot should’ve been easy.
But none of that mattered when his hands shook at the wrong moment because he was too busy watching the man he left behind get groped by someone who’d been only too happy to pick up the pieces.
Ron pushed back his chair with a wheeze and stood. “What you working on? I’ll do it.”
Nathan was already wrapping the plaster around his finger, too tight, the blood smearing beneath it. “Freddie brought his Peugeot in. Spark plug’s loose. I’ve got it.”
At the mention of the name, Ron peered past him, out towards the forecourt.
Freddie and Reece were mid-argument now.
Body language prickly, tight, all flinching shoulders and pointed hands.
Nathan couldn’t hear a thing over the buzz of the radio, the thrum of engines, the wind outside dragging exhaust fumes through the air, but he didn’t need to.
He knew how it felt to stand too close to someone you wanted and not know what to do with it.
His father’s voice cut through, low and offhanded. “Those two queers back together?”
Nathan’s stomach dropped .
Ron nodded towards the forecourt. “In and out of each other’s beds, that lot.” He huffed. “You do the bike. Reece is a fireman. Give him the Emergency Services discount.”
Nathan opened his mouth, but no sound came out.
No defence. No argument. The same silence he’d been swallowing since he was fifteen.
Ron limped out, crossing the forecourt, where he shook Reece’s hand, said something Nathan couldn’t hear, then clapped Freddie on the arm as if they were old mates.
Then he walked straight to the Peugeot and got to work.
And Nathan stood there watching, mouth dry, pulse hammering, realising something that made his chest clench tight.
Freddie had been right.
He was a fucking coward.
But he forced his legs to move, heading for the bike to get on with the job. Reece stood beside it, peeling off one of his gloves, casual as anything. As if he hadn’t laid claim to something Nathan had barely had the courage to want again.
Nathan crouched beside the Bonnie, running a hand along the gear linkage, fingers steady despite the tightness coiling through him. The Triumph had enough scuffs to show it’d been ridden hard but looked after.
“You said it clicks on the downshift?” he asked, not looking up.
“Yeah.” Reece adjusted his jacket zip. “Happens low down. Second to first, mostly. Not every time, but enough to do my head in.”
Nathan nodded, squinting at the shifter. “Could be the selector arm. Maybe the pawl spring sticking or play in the shift rod. I’ll get it up on the stand and take a look.”
“Safe to ride till then? ”
“If you shift clean, yeah. But don’t go stamping down like you’re chasing a fire.”
Reece chuckled. “No promises.”
Nathan didn’t smile. His focus had drifted again. Towards the Peugeot. To Freddie. Leaning against the driver’s door, arms folded, head bowed in thought while Ron was saying something, gesturing with a wrench. Freddie nodded, distracted. Then he glanced up.
Their eyes met across the yard.
And for a breath, maybe two, everything stilled.
Freddie didn’t smile. Didn’t speak. But the look on his face hit Nathan harder than any punch he’d taken in the barracks. As if there were words hanging between them, thick and heavy, and neither of them had the guts to say them out loud. Freddie looked as if he wanted to speak. Wanted to stay .
But he didn’t.
He gave the smallest nod to Ron, then slid into the car.
The engine turned over, purring now. Smooth, easy, fixed .
Nathan stayed crouched by the bike, pretending to study the bolts as the Peugeot rolled back, turned onto the road, and disappeared.
The silence that followed was deafening.
Beside him, Reece shifted, one glove tucked under his arm, darting his gaze from the disappearing Peugeot to Nathan.
“So… you know our resident PC Webb, then?”
Nathan focused on the gear linkage, tightening a bolt that didn’t need tightening. “Yeah. Used to. Went to school together.”
Reece hummed, as if he already knew there was more to that story. “Ron said you were army?”
Nathan gave a curt nod. “S’right. ”
“What regiment?”
“1st Battalion, Royal Anglian.”
“Infantry, then.”
“Yeah.”
“Where were you stationed?”
Nathan kept his eyes on the bike. “Started in Cyprus. Then Afghanistan. Iraq. Back to Afghan. Finished in Kenya for training rotations. After that, was posted closer to home. Colchester. Before I left for good.”
There was silence for a beat too long, filled only by the tick of cooling engines and the far-off cry of gulls overhead. Reece said nothing. Just nodded, as if he’d only asked out of habit and now wished he hadn’t.
Nathan wiped his hands on the cloth again, the smell of oil and metal thick in his nose, but it was the echo of Freddie’s gaze that lingered.
No combat zone had ever knocked the wind out of him like that look from Freddie had.
“You play footie?” Reece asked, breaking the silence.
“What?”
“We’re a man down for the Emergency Services five-a-side on Wednesday. Worthbridge Fire lost our striker to paternity leave. Lucky sod. You fancy stepping in? Figure ex-infantry counts as an honorary emergency lad.”
Nathan stood, stretching out his back. “I was more defence than anything.”
Reece looked him up and down. “Yeah, bet you were. We can shuffle things around. Could use someone with a bit of grit at the back. You up for it?”
“I got a gammy leg.”
“Yeah? What’s up with it?
“Shrapnel tore through the knee on my last tour. Missed the bone, but the tendon damage was a bitch. Couple surgeries. Still stiff in the cold. ”
“Means you gotta keep moving it, right?”
Nathan couldn’t argue with that. Man had a point.
Reece slapped a hand on Nathan’s shoulder. Could’ve been friendly, but there was also something else behind it. Something bigger. Weightier. Like who’s got a bigger dick contest. “Wednesday. Six o’clock. Harrow Lodge Park. You know it?”
Nathan narrowed his eyes. “Yeah. I know it.”
“Greenies’ll be on standby if your leg gives out. But I’ve got a feeling you want to prove something. Maybe to yourself.” Reece shrugged. “Maybe to someone else.”
Nathan didn’t answer straight away. He glanced past Reece towards the road where Freddie’s car had disappeared minutes ago.
As if some part of him still expected it to reverse back into view.
Or wanted it to. Then he looked back. Maybe he should give it a go.
Do all the normal stuff. Join civilian life.
He could bring Alfie, show him who he was.
Or who he’d used to be. Maybe they both needed that. Some stable ground beneath their feet.
“I’ll think about it.”
Reece slapped a hand on his shoulder. “Good man. Boots optional.”
Nathan let out a scant breath that might’ve passed for a laugh. Then he crouched back beside the bike, squinting at the gear shifter, checking the rod.
“You’ve got too much play in this linkage. Probably the ball joint’s worn.” He glanced back up. “I’ll need to order the part. Two, maybe three days. Bring her back in and I’ll fit it.”
“Perfect.” Reece grinned. “You’re gonna be an asset to me round here. Usually have to take this miles away for anyone to touch it.” He then winked. “Looks like me and you have things in common. ”
Nathan didn’t respond, but he watched him go with a knot in his chest.
He didn’t need to ask what he was implying.
Didn’t like the way it landed, either.