Fighting Redemption(64)

“Nope.”

“Shit,” he muttered. “I need to ring Fin.”

“What for? You need to remind her you’re a stubborn * in case she forgot?”

Ryan scratched at the back of his pounding head. “No, I need to tell her where …”

“Where you are?” Kyle’s hands fisted by his sides. “Sonofabitch. I could f*cking punch you right now.”

“You don’t get it.”

Just hearing her voice would set off that uncontrollable urge to ask her not to leave. If Ryan let that slip out, he would never forgive himself.

“I don’t need to get it. Fin does.” Kyle tugged his phone out of his pocket and slapped it hard into Ryan’s palm. “Here. And hurry the f*ck up. We’re leaving in five and I want to start off hard. I’ve got money on today’s session, so I need to show those lazy cunts I mean business. I’ll wait outside.”

Christ. How was he supposed to say everything in five minutes? Ryan sank onto the bed and held his head in his hand as he dialled her number. He put the phone to his ear and waited but it went to message. He cleared his throat.

“Ba—Fin. I’m sorry. I’m on Kyle’s phone because I can’t find mine. I’m … I stayed on base last night. I just … I can’t …” Ryan closed his eyes, feeling like a pathetic *. “I’ll call you later, okay?”

After hanging up the phone, he got dressed for their eight kilometre soft-sand run and headed out into the bright light of the morning.

“Did you ring Fin?” Kyle puffed softly as they jogged slowly towards the range sentry gate.

“Yeah,” he muttered. Today was the first day of the rest of his life without her. He was off to a shitty start because he already ached to hear her voice and feel her warm body rubbing against his own. The feeling was almost desperate and downright unbearable, like he wanted to claw his way out of his own skin.

“And?”

Frustrated, Ryan clenched his jaw. He was hoping the jog would help him switch his mind off, and Kyle was making damn sure that wasn’t happening. “And I left a message because she didn’t answer.” A dumbass message that made him sound like an idiot rather than assertive and cool so she would understand where he stood.

Where do you stand, idiot?

Ryan swiped a hand across his face. All he knew was that Fin was willing to throw her dreams away to be with him and he couldn’t do the same. How could he expect of her what he couldn’t of himself? He owed Jake to see this through, and there was no seeing past that.

They reached the gate and started stretching, the fifteen odd soldiers quiet as they focused on the strenuous and challenging run ahead.

Later that afternoon, the loud clamour of magazines, sliding bolts, and the loud shout of Monty yelling to commence fire wiped everything else from his mind. Fixated on his target, sweat rolled down Ryan’s back and chest in the heat as he squeezed the trigger. The mass sound of rifles firing cracked along the range like a fast approaching thunderstorm as he carefully adjusted his sights and shot round after round, finding his target again and again. Adrenaline pumped through his body and satisfaction curled his lips at the familiarity of holding a rifle in his hands—the smell of gunfire, like charred wood, clung to his clothes, creating a soothing balm on his raw and aching heart.

“Cease fire,” Monty roared.

The cracks of gunfire ceased immediately, followed by the sounds of magazines being removed and the discharge of chambered rounds.

In the eerie silence, Ryan felt like he couldn’t breathe. The ease of familiarity was dying off as he stepped back from the firing line. His heartbeat surged as he wiped sweat from his brow with his shirtsleeve.

Monty reached his side as he focused on trying to control his breathing. “Nice job, Kendall. Now pull it the f*ck together.”

Ryan gave a sharp nod, not trusting his voice. The sooner he was in Afghanistan where he could live and breathe this shit, the better. He’d lived with a single-minded determination for so long he couldn’t stop now. He could still be that way. He hadn’t changed, dammit.

Reloading his chamber, Ryan stepped up to the plate, the weight of the rifle heavy in his hands, and waited for Monty’s command.

Finally exhausted, both mentally and physically, Ryan arrived back at base and showered off the sweat and grime of a hard day’s training. Throwing on the jeans and shirt he wore last night, Ryan grabbed his shoes and sat down on the edge of the bed to slip them on.

Galloway appeared in the doorway. “Mess is open. You coming?”

“Nah. Got shit to do.”

He tipped his chin. “See you tomorrow then?”

“I’ll be back later.” Finished with putting on his shoes, Ryan stood up.

Galloway shook his head. “You do what you gotta do, mate.”

The trouble with doing what he had to do was that it involved saying goodbye to the one person he couldn’t live without. He would never come back from this. Never.





How did people take sick days? Sitting around while the rest of the world got on with their day to day life left Fin twitchy. By lunchtime she was feeling better and made the trek into the office. She spent most of the afternoon fielding emails from Rachael, typing up a report that made no sense and checking her phone for missed calls from Ryan. A missed call earlier from Kyle’s phone had left her panicked, fearing something happened to Ryan, until Ryan himself left a message. The resignation in his voice told her more than what his words could—that his stance on the whole thesis subject hadn’t changed.