“Don’t let anyone stop you from being who you need to be.”
Fin took a deep breath. Her time away made her realise she was trying to force something with Ian that wasn’t there. It wasn’t possible to change who she was in order to be the person Ian wanted her to be. It was time to let him go.
“Ian—”
“Don’t say it.” He leaned in, pressing his forehead to hers. “I know.” He kissed her, his tongue sweeping wildly into her mouth. His fingers dug into her h*ps as his lips moved hard and desperate on hers. Tearing his mouth away, they both fought for breath. Tears filled his eyes. “I know,” he whispered against her lips.
Fin closed her eyes and remembered the way Ian had looked at her after their very first kiss. His blue eyes wide as he asked breathlessly if he could ring her.
She remembered their first time together, right through to when he’d returned from Sydney, standing in the bar, and her heart had swelled at seeing him again. She had missed him. “I still love you, Ian.”
He nodded, a tear sliding down his cheek. “Love you too, Fin.”
Ian wrapped his arms around her and buried his head in her neck. “Let’s not be friends, okay? Not for a while at least. I can’t—” his voice cracked.
“Oh God, Ian. I’m sorry. I’m sorry I can’t be the person you need me to be,” she whispered through tears.
He took a deep breath and pulled back, his eyes red. “I guess this is what they talk about when they say people just grow apart. We can’t force something that isn’t working, right?”
Fin wiped at the tears on her cheeks. “I’m tired of saying goodbye to people I love.”
He stood up, bringing her with him, and set her on her feet. “Then let’s not say goodbye. Just …” He paused and pulled car keys from his pocket before meeting her eyes. “See you later, Fin.”
She pressed her lips together, her heart aching. “See you later, Ian,” she whispered thickly.
His eyes searched her face, then he nodded once and turned. Striding down the hallway, he didn’t look back as he opened and shut the door behind him.
She grabbed blindly for her phone off the table where she’d left it and dialled Rachael.
“Hey, Fin!”
A sob broke free.
“Oh shit. What?”
“Ian,” she managed to say.
“Do you have wine?”
“Yes,” she whispered.
“Good. I’ll be right there.”
Fin exhaled deeply. “Thanks.”
Two weeks later
Camp Holland Military Base
Tarin Kowt, Afghanistan
Ryan stretched out on his bunk and tried to sleep in the late afternoon. They were only two days in on a recuperation period before heading out on another patrol in just over a week, and he was desperate for some quiet.
Jake walked in, throwing himself down in the bunk opposite. A guitar was sitting ominously in his lap.
“Oh hell no, Tanner.”
Jake settled his fingers on the strings and strummed a chord that had Ryan grinding his teeth. He looked up, raising his brows innocently. “Did you say something, Kendall?”
“Take that thing outside. Go play it in the shithouse where it belongs.”
Jake’s fingers fumbled as he struggled to find the note he was looking for. “What are you trying to say? You don’t like my playing?”
“I thought we hid that f**king thing from you in Monty’s room,” Ryan muttered.
Jake strummed another chord and grinned. “I found it, a**hole. Couldn’t find my sheet music though, so I’m just gonna have to play by ear.”
“You do remember me telling Fin that Crookshanks could play that thing better than you, right?”
Jake strummed the strings in rapid succession, the sound so painful a passing soldier muttered a solid “fuck” as he passed by their bunk.
“So? I’d be able to practice better if you didn’t keep bitching me out.”
“Jesus. I thought you hid that bloody guitar, Kendall!” came a loud yell from Kyle in the bunk across the hall. “Keep that shit up, Tanner, and I’m gonna come in there and break that thing across your face!”
Jake kept plucking away at the strings.
“I think Brooks was serious,” Ryan warned.
Jake set the guitar aside and focused his eyes on Ryan.
“What?”
“I got a couple of emails from Fin,” Jake replied.
Lacing his fingers behind his head, he stared at the bunk above him and took a deep breath. “Yeah?”
“The first one says she’s home safe.”
Ryan closed his eyes for a moment.
“Did she mention me?” Kyle yelled out from across the hall.
“She says she hopes you live a very long and miserable life,” Jake called back. “Oh, and she brought you back a penguin.”
“Fuck yeah,” Ryan heard him say. “I’m in.”
Ryan raised a brow at Jake and Jake shook his head, his lips twitching.
“The second?” he prompted him.
Jake’s eyes searched Ryan’s face. “She split with Ian.”
“What? When?” With all hope of sleep gone, Ryan sat up and swung his legs over the bed.
“When she got back.”
“Fuck. He didn’t—”
“No,” Jake cut him off. “I asked the same thing. She says he didn’t hurt her.”
Ryan rubbed his brow. “Is she okay?”
“You know Fin. Mum says she’s buried herself in work.”
Ryan stood up and opened the cupboard beside his bed. He yanked out a shirt and tugged it over his head, tucking his tags underneath the thin cotton.
“What are you doing?” Jake asked.
He grabbed his shoes. “Going for a run.”
“Thought you were going to have a sleep,” he said as Ryan tugged his shoes on.
“Yeah, I can’t see that happening right now, Tanner.”
“Kendall?” Jake called out as Ryan reached the door.
He paused and looked over his shoulder.
Jake sat there, his eyes steady. “I love the two of you. I just want you both happy, you know what I’m saying, don’t you?”
Ryan pressed his lips together and gave him a short nod. “I hear you.”
As he walked down the narrow, bomb-proofed hallway of their base, he heard Jake start strumming his guitar again.
Eight days later, after heavy preparation and planning, their team— including the addition of American snipers—was inserted into the mountains by a vehicle-mounted patrol. It was perfect timing: the night black, the sky clear, and the air cool.
Ryan cleared his mind as he leaped to the ground and weighted himself down with his pack. This patrol might solely be reconnaissance, but it was going to be done inside enemy territory. Intelligence told them Taliban fighters near the village of Khaz Uruzgan were planning something big. Ryan’s team was going to gather information that would flush those bastards out.
Jim, one of the snipers that sat opposite Ryan on the drive, gave him a short nod as he slid his own pack on. Ryan returned it. He liked the Americans. They were brash and loyal to their allies, which was pretty f**king important when you were caught under heavy fire.
Monty pulled their team together. “All set?”
Ryan gave the thumbs up.
“Right,” he said.
Beside him Jake grinned. “Let’s go f**k shit up.”
Ryan fell into step behind Monty, Jake following behind him, as they began the long climb.
Ten hours later and they were eighty-seven kilometres northwest of their base at Tarin Kowt and high into the mountains.
“Ready for that nanna nap yet, Kendall?”
Fuck. Jake sounded barely winded. Asshole.
Exhausted, Ryan steadied his breath. “Not me, Tanner, but if you’re tired just say the word. I’ll read you a story and tuck you in.”
Jake chuckled as their feet crunched softly over the rocky terrain.
Five minutes later, Ryan heard a soft, warning click from Monty and he froze. The entire team behind him halted and silence reigned to the point you couldn’t hear a single breath.
Monty gave the thumb down danger close signal, and Ryan felt tension rise thick in the air.
His heart rate climbed rapidly with anticipation. Like flicking a switch, his exhaustion disappeared, his vision narrowing in the fading darkness on a man fifteen metres ahead.
They weren’t expecting foreign enemies this high in the hills, yet they spotted a man approaching, full beard, AK-47 raised and ready. Knowing it was the weapon of choice for the Taliban, Monty ordered quickly, “Shoot to kill, Kendall.”
His entire team dropped and found immediate cover as Ryan stood alone, heart in his throat, his eyes trained on the enemy.
Ryan raised his assault rifle, his breathing harsh to his own ears, and with narrowed eyes and steady hands, he opened fire.
Enemy fire returned rapidly. Ryan felt the heat of the bullets tear past him, knowing he was seconds away from one ripping into him and bringing him down.
As his bullets found their target, Ryan watched the Taliban fighter jerk, blood exploding outwards as he fell hard, shock the last fleeting image on his face.
“Enemy dead,” Ryan roared.
From his corner vision, Ryan caught another Taliban fighter—rocket-propelled grenade in hand—ducking and weaving through the brush ahead.
“Twelve metres full left, one enemy,” he yelled.
Instincts kicking in, Ryan dived for cover and moments later a PKM machine gun opened fire on their patrol and the battle was on.
“Fuck,” he heard Jake growl beside him as they returned fire.
Fuck was right. Their team had trekked right into a nest of insurgents.
As machine gun fire cracked into the rocks around them, Monty pulled out a map and Tex began radioing their coordinates back to base, calling in an immediate air strike.
The orange light of dawn began its approach, slowly revealing their position to the enemy.
“Jesus f**king Christ. We need to retreat,” Ryan growled.
“Cover me,” Jake yelled from the other side of the rocks.
With his heart pounding fiercely, Ryan stood and opened full fire. Jake broke cover. Hunching over, he ran for a better position to take out the PKM that was spewing heavy fire.
New shots rained down from above, taking their team by surprise, and as Ryan turned to fire, he saw Jake fall.
“Tanner!” Ryan shouted hoarsely. “Man down!” he yelled at Galloway. “Cover me.”
Galloway unhooked his rocket launcher, and as the explosive rounds lit up the sky, Ryan rushed out and skidded to the ground, grabbing Jake in his hard grip and dragging him to cover.
With the PKM no longer heard, Kyle stood guard in front of them, his rifle raised.
With Jake laid out on his back, Ryan crouched over him. His eyes fell on the bullet wounds to his shoulder and neck. Thick, red blood was flowing freely from the neck wound, and as Ryan jammed his fingers on it, it overflowed, spilling over his hands and leaching into the ground.
“Someone get me some goddamn first aid,” he shouted, his voice cracking as he put his entire body weight onto the wound.