Julie had cried the moment he stepped through the front door and leaned up to fold him in her arms. He had to hand the pie off to Mike in order to hug her back. Mike had stood there, fighting his own tears, and it hurt to see his tough exterior worn down with so much grief.
The dinner that followed had felt almost normal—as long as he kept his eyes from the empty place where Jake used to sit.
“You’re part of the family, Ryan,” Mike told him later that night as they both sat on the back patio after dinner. “To us you were simply another son.”
“Thank you, Mike,” he murmured.
“Your mum and dad, they were never your parents, we were. We still are. Don’t stay away anymore,” he ordered. Picking up his beer and holding it in both hands, Mike cleared his throat. “Now tell me what happened.”
After setting his drink on the table, Ryan leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and focusing his eyes on the cream coloured pavers he’d helped Jake and Mike lay so many years ago. “It was a nest of insurgents, sir,” he began, his stomach pitching at having to relive the memory. “We were dropped near the mountains for a patrol that was going to take us inside enemy territory. They weren’t supposed to be there. We were quiet and careful, but they must have seen us coming from miles away. By the time our patrol was deep in the mountains with dawn approaching, we were surrounded. It didn’t look good so we radioed for support, but they came too late. Jake ran for a clear spot to take out a PKM that was stopping us from retreating when someone high up on a ridge fired down on him.” Ryan swallowed, the image of Jake falling vivid in his mind. “I was supposed to cover him,” he whispered. “I ran out into open fire and dragged him back, but he was already gone. It happened so quickly.”
God. The blood. He could still smell it. The metallic tang of it had been thick in the air as it flooded over his hands and soaked into the ground. He rubbed a hand across his face, but the smell, the fear, the hollow ache—it all lived inside him and was something that would never be wiped away.
“Ryan.”
He looked up in surprise. Mike was standing in front of him, holding out his hand, and he hadn’t even heard him move. As he stood up and took hold, Mike wrapped him in a hug.
“I’m so sorry, sir. I carried him back to the chopper and I didn’t let go.”
Mike pushed him back to look at him. “You put yourself on the line to get to him,” he said gruffly. “He was never alone. Thank you, son.”
Ryan nodded, hoping that one day he could accept Mike’s words and move on. Returning to Afghanistan without Jake wasn’t going to be the same. This time he’d be going for Jake rather than with him, and it was going to hurt like a goddamn motherfucker.
“I’m going back,” he told Mike.
Mike took a deep breath. “When?”
“Two weeks.”
They both spun around at the sound of a plate shattering. Fin stood there looking at him, pale and mute as a tea towel hung carelessly from her fingers.
Fuck. He should have told her sooner but he hadn’t wanted anything to spoil the beautiful spark of happiness in her eyes. Now it was gone, and who knew when and if he would ever see it again.
“Oh, Fin, honey, what happened?” Julie called out. She came running over, a dust pan and brush in her hands.
“Just a broken plate, Mum,” she told Julie without looking away from him. “I’ll clean up the mess.”
Julie crouched at her feet. “No, I’ve got it. Just step away a bit so I can get it all.”
Fin took a step back. “Actually, if you’ll … I just need to use the bathroom. I’ll be right back.”
“Fin!” he called out, watching helplessly as she fled inside and disappeared upstairs.
“She didn’t know,” Mike muttered.
“I …” Christ. Ryan ran fingers through his hair. “No.”
Mike nodded towards the bathroom. “Better go talk to her.”
Ryan opened the bathroom door without knocking. Fin was sitting on the edge of the bath, staring down at her hands. Shutting the door behind him, he walked over to her and knelt between her legs.
She looked at him and smiled, but it was forced because it didn’t reach her eyes. “You don’t need to explain anything, Ryan. I just want to go home. Take me home, okay?”
“Okay,” he agreed.
Ryan was quiet the entire drive back to the cottage. Why did everyone always paint love as pretty rainbows and happily ever afters? It wasn’t any of that. To love was to feel the greatest of agony, burn in the hottest fires of Hell, and fail the only people who ever mattered.
“I’m going to have a shower,” Fin mumbled when they walked through the front door.
Ryan let her go without a word and headed for the kitchen. Reaching into the top cupboard, he grabbed the bottle of scotch and a glass. As he slammed the door shut, a piece of paper fluttered down from above the cupboards and landed on the floor. Picking it up, he sat it on the bench as he poured out a glass and tossed back the contents. It burned his throat going down, and warmth spread across his chest. As he poured another, his eyes fell to the slip of paper. Sipping at his drink, Ryan snatched it up and unfolded it. He scanned the page quickly, and before he sat down to read it again, this time more carefully, he tossed back the second drink and poured another.
By the time Fin padded softly into the kitchen in a simple singlet and panties, her damp hair falling over her shoulders, he hadn’t moved. She looked at him and then at the bit of paper in his hands.
“What’s that?”
Ryan handed it over wordlessly.
“Oh,” she murmured and folded it back up as though it meant nothing.
“Please tell me you accepted it.”
“Of course I didn’t.”
Ryan slammed his glass down hard on the breakfast table, anger flashing in his eyes. “This is your dream,” he ground out. “An opportunity to do your PhD at the Climate Change Research Centre. This is years of work, Fin. A chance to complete your thesis and be able to carry out your own original research. This is everything you’ve ever worked for!”
The bit of paper crumpled in her clenched fist. “Don’t tell me what it is. I already know.”
“Then why aren’t you going?”
“Because it’s four goddamn years on the other side of the country!” she yelled. “I’m not leaving you!”
“You are,” he roared back as he stood up. “Because I’m already going and when I come back—”
“I’ll be right here, waiting for you,” she shouted over the top of him. “It’s a thesis for God’s sake, Ryan. You’re my life! Every moment with you is one I won’t give up for anything, or anyone.”
“I can’t be your goddamn life! What happens to you if I’m not here?”
She froze, her body still as her heart splintered into pieces at the very thought. “The same thing that happens to you if I’m not.”
“No.” He jabbed his finger in her chest. “You can’t say shit like that.”
“I’m not leaving!” she shouted.
“You’re acting like you have a choice, but you don’t!” he roared back. “You’re going. I won’t let you put your life on hold for me.”
“Ryan—”
He cut her off. “You’ll accept the research program. If you can’t go for yourself, go for Jake.”
“That’s not fair!” she yelled, her eyes burning with tears.
“When it comes to this, I can’t fight fair, baby.”
Ryan strode towards the couch, grabbing his jacket from where he’d flung it so casually when they walked through the front door.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m going out.”
“Fine!” she yelled. “Go!”
Ignoring her, he picked up his keys and strode down the hallway. She stood there, her chest heaving with so much anger she couldn’t see straight. Why couldn’t he see how much more important he was to her right now? Her thesis could wait, it wasn’t going anywhere. She needed to be here.
As he opened the door, he looked over his shoulder. “When I come back from Afghanistan, I don’t want you here. I don’t …” He paused and took a deep breath. “I’ve always said to you not to let anyone stop you from being who you need to be, and that includes me.”
The door slammed hard behind him.
“Damn you, Ryan!” she shrieked. She grabbed his glass of scotch and threw it hard down the hall. As it shattered against the back of the front door, the world started to fade out.
“Oh please,” she whispered. “No. Not again.”
Lurching backwards, she reached out to hang onto something, but her hands only grabbed air. Her head cracked hard against the table as she went down; the bright burst of pain was the last thing she felt before blackness overwhelmed her.
Ryan stood on the front porch dragging air deep into his lungs. There was something uncontrollable inside him that wanted to beg her not to go. If he’d stayed in there a second longer he would have. He wanted her right here waiting for him when he returned, and all that did was make him a selfish, f**ked up a**hole. Asking her to stay was something he wouldn’t allow himself to do.
Why was it so hard to be normal? He was so tired of trying to pretend he could be the man she deserved. Ryan ran both hands over his face, fighting with all his strength not to open that door and plead for her to never, ever leave him.
Fin needed to be able to see that now, while she was young, was the time to grab this opportunity with both hands. He wasn’t going to stand in the way of that. She was smart. One day she’d realise what she’d let slip through her fingers and resentment would set in.
Putting his hands in his pockets, he looked up at the stars. Would they only ever have those fleeting moments—the ones where you lived the briefest, loved the hardest, and burned like the devil had set fire to your very soul? They were the only moments in his life that had been worth a damn.
“I’m yours, Ryan, and even if you have to leave me, I’ll always be yours.”
Who knew that in the end, it would be her leaving him? With his head still tipped to the night sky, Ryan closed his eyes against the stars that glittered brightly. Fin was slipping right through his fingers and standing there watching it happen was unbearable.
Tugging his phone from his pocket, Ryan dialled as he strode towards his car.
“Kendall,” Kyle answered.
Ryan opened the car door wide and slipped inside. “Up for a drink, mate?”
“Fuck yeah.”
“Good. I’ll swing by base, pick you up.”
“See you soon.”
Ryan hung up, tossing his phone carelessly on the passenger seat. It skidded across the leather, falling down the other side and underneath with a loud clunk as Ryan backed out of the drive.
An hour later he was leaning up against the wall of the rowdy bar, tipping back his second scotch, fourth if he bothered to count the two he’d had at home earlier. Fuck. Not home. Fin’s cottage. He couldn’t think of it that way anymore. He wouldn’t live there without her. That would be too painful.