Fighting Redemption (4 page)

Nine months before the selection course, the screening process began. Jake and Ryan trained for months—lifting weights, donning packs that weighed into the tens of kilos, and running miles over mountainous rocky terrain. Together they built endurance, mental strength, and a powerful physique, making them a formidable team.

Nearing the end of selection, Ryan was exhausted and almost sure he wasn’t going to survive it. He could see his dream slipping through his fingers, and he was so utterly beaten down, he almost couldn’t give a shit.

Then Jake came up beside him, his eyes lighting up in a wide grin, and said, “Don’t let this shit beat you, Kendall. Dig deep and show these cunts how it’s done.”

So he did, and after losing a massive ten kilograms over the three weeks, they made it through together.

After extensive training operations, their first deployment into Afghanistan arrived. Ryan didn’t sleep once during the entire trip over. Blood fired in his veins, and his heart beat so hard and so fast he thought it would thump out of his chest.

The Commanding Officer briefed the entire team honestly. Saying “conditions were extremely dangerous and casualties were to be expected.” That “you will be forced in a split second to determine a pregnant woman from a suicide bomber, traverse fields covered with IEDs that will blow you apart in seconds” and finished with “some of you
will
be killed.”

But none of his team had even been injured, and now here he was on his second deployment, right where he belonged.

“Ryan!”

He blinked.

“Ryan!”

Coming back from the past, he realised the Black Hawk had landed back at base and everyone was leaping out.

After a team debrief and hot shower, Ryan was walking past the computer room and heard Jake’s shout of laughter. He paused, closing his eyes when he heard Fin’s laugh ring out in return.

They were returning to Australia in two weeks. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to go home and see her. Just this once.

Two weeks later

Fremantle, Western Australia

Morning light swirled inside Fin’s bedroom, highlighting the floating dust from another week of not getting housework done. She yawned and stretched noisily, trying to shove the image of Ryan from her mind.

Six years of nothing and the hurt was still a dull ache. What if something happened to him and she never saw him again? The ache throbbed a little harder at the thought. Fin never expected him to keep in regular contact, but the fact that he didn’t, hurt. Did he never think of her?

Ryan had been the first new friend she’d made after moving from Sydney when her dad was relocated for work. The image of him standing there holding out his hand when she’d stumbled on the steps at school was something she would never forget. The early morning sun swirling behind him had made his brown hair gleam. Thick, dark eyelashes surrounded eyes so deep in colour they appeared almost black. Her eyes fell to his hand. It looked warm and inviting—his skin a colour that always looked tanned no matter what the season.

Jake and Ryan had become fast friends, and Ryan was always staying over more often than not. So much that Mum and Dad even set up two beds in Jake’s room—one on either side. Between both sat two desks against the wall so they could study together. But Jake and Fin had never been to Ryan’s house. The invitation was never extended, and it wasn’t until she was fourteen that she realised why.

Late one night she’d left her room in just a singlet and panties, intent on getting a glass of water because she couldn’t sleep.

The bathroom door opened and Ryan stepped out, hair dripping wet, a towel slung casually around his lean hips.

Fin froze, her breath catching in her throat. He was already getting tall—his lean muscular frame slowly filling out after years of sport. Water dripped down his chest and over prominent bruises lining his shoulder.

“Fin,” he muttered.

She looked up, flushing when his eyes wandered down her legs, slowly trailing up her body and landing on her chest, and then she saw his face.

“Ryan.” A hand came to her mouth. “Your eye.”

It was bruised and swollen. A split in his brow was bleeding and looked like it needed stitches.

Turning, he averted his face.

“Go back to bed, Fin,” he mumbled and gave her his back.

Fin’s eyes fell to the fading yellow and purple marks over his shoulder blade, and her breath hitched in horror. His lean muscles bunched and flexed as he began walking down the hallway.

“Wait!” Fin called softly. Reaching out, she took hold of his arm before he could disappear into Jake’s room.

Ryan paused, half turning towards her. “What?”

His face was shadowed, but she could still see the pain in his eyes and his chest rising and falling a little more rapidly.

“Who did this?”

Ryan turned to face her, meeting her eyes. His jaw was tight, his face impassive. “It’s nothing.”

“It’s not nothing,” she replied. “Who hurt you?”

He chuckled, but it didn’t sound happy. “You should see the other guy.”

Fin frowned. “What other guy?”

Ryan shrugged his arm free. “It’s not a big deal, Fin, okay? Don’t make more of it than it is.”

“If it’s not a big deal then why won’t you tell me what happened?”

He sighed deeply and took hold of her hand, dragging her into her own room and shutting the door behind them.

Fin whirled around, suddenly breathless. Ryan was alone with her in her room and wearing nothing but a towel. She hoped it didn’t fall off. She wasn’t really prepared to see what was underneath. Fin and her friends had seen pictures, and she couldn’t lie, it was more than a little scary.

“This is not a good idea,” he mumbled under his breath.

Fin pointed towards her bed. “Sit down.”

“Fin—”

“Sit,” she commanded.

Shrugging as though it was no big deal, Ryan shuffled tiredly towards her bed. Turning around, he sat.

“Don’t move,” she added. Disappearing out the door, she returned with the first aid kit.

Ryan arched his brow. “Doctor Tanner, I presume?”

She giggled as she set the kit on the bed and flipped the lid. “Shush.”

Taking out a packet of butterfly tape, she peeled one open. Standing over him, she leaned down and stuck one edge down. Her stomach rolled a little as she held the small cut together and stuck down the other side.

Her face close to his, she whispered, “You should go to the doctor, Ryan.”

“Fin …” He breathed as she patted gently at the tape. He reached out, his hand circling her wrist, making her pause.

Her gaze dropped from his brow to his eyes. “What?”

Ryan caressed her skin, sliding his hand up her forearm until he cupped her face. The look in his eyes had her pulse racing. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

He leaned in a little and she held her breath. “For caring.”

It wasn’t until he let go and left the room that she realised he never told her what happened.

The following afternoon Fin stole into Jake’s room where he sat studying at his desk.

She crawled her way onto his bed and after bunching his pillow comfortably beneath her, she came straight out and asked, “What happened to Ryan yesterday?”

Jake turned his head and looked at her. His expression was blank as his pen hovered over the page. “Nothing.”

“I saw the bruises, Jake,” Fin told him when he went back to scribbling notes. “Did you two have a fight?”

Intent on the page in front of him, he replied, “It’s none of your business.”

“Fine. I’ll ask Ryan then.” She started to sit up from the bed and Jake dropped his pen with a huff.

“No, Fin. Don’t.” Jake spun in his chair and faced her, running a hand through his choppy blond hair. “Why do you think he’s always here and never at home? His dad’s an asshole and a lousy drunk.”

“His dad did that?” Fin whispered, shock making her stomach roll.

Jake nodded, the movement sharp and angry. “Don’t say anything, okay?”

“That’s why Ryan’s here all the time, isn’t it? Because this isn’t the first time it’s happened.”

“No, it’s not.”

“Why doesn’t he say anything?”

“Leave it alone,” Jake growled and turned back to his books. “A couple more years or so and we’ll be joining the Army, and then he doesn’t have to be there anymore.”

Deep down Fin held hope that Ryan would change his mind about leaving. She didn’t want him to go, but she knew now why he had to. Fin would want to leave too, move as far away from here as she could possibly get.

As Jake asked, she tried not to say anything, but it slipped out one night when she was sixteen. A guy in her year at school had blushed and stammered his way through asking her to the movies. Her head filled only with Ryan, her immediate reaction had been to say no. If she was going to date anyone, she wanted it to be him. But Ryan was leaving, so she told him maybe. They were at the dinner table when she blurted it out in front of everyone.

“No,” her dad replied.

Her gaze shifted to Ryan. His face had paled, his eyes falling to his dinner plate. He didn’t want her to date? The mixture of relief and regret confused her, and pushing away from the table, she strode outside. Sitting out in the yard, she picked at the grass. Her pulse raced when Ryan came out and sat down next to her, both of them flinging bits of grass at each other as they talked quietly.

“I want to get out, Fin,” he told her. “I need to. I can’t live at that place for much longer. I’m tired of the fighting and the yelling, the alcohol and the …”

“He hits you.”

Ryan closed his eyes and her heart ached. Instead of acknowledging her words, he kept talking, but his voice held a world of hurt. Not knowing what else to do, she rolled over and cupped his face in her hand.

“Ryan,” she whispered.

He turned his head, pressing a soft kiss against her palm. She shivered. The way Ryan was looking at her stole her breath.

As though waking up, he shook his head, pulling away. Scrambling to his feet, he walked inside leaving Fin alone. She sat there in the dark, crickets chirping, the smell of jasmine sweet in the warm air, and she cried.

Eventually she turned seventeen and reached the age her parents decreed as the magical dating number. Ryan had withdrawn from her over the past year, so when Ian asked her out, she didn’t allow herself to hesitate.

Ian was in the year above her at school, and hot. Tall and blond with flirty blue eyes, he was muscular, outgoing, and funny. Fin surprised herself by having a good time. When Ian walked her to her door, she pushed down thoughts of Ryan being her first kiss and gave it to Ian.

Taking hold of her hands, Ian leaned forward and pressed his lips to hers. He opened her mouth under his and slid his tongue inside, and the touch sent a punch of heat through her body. Fin wound her arms around his neck and his came around her waist, pulling her close.

Embarrassed at the thought her parents could possibly be watching, she broke away.

“Can I ring you?” he asked breathlessly.

She licked her lips and his eyes fell on her mouth. “Okay,” she replied with a smile.

After two months of dating Ian, she had him over to watch a movie while her parents were out at a function. She had no idea what was playing out on the television. Ian had her beneath him on the couch, his weight pushing her into the cushions as they made out until the credits rolled.

His touch became firmer and more insistent. She flushed at the foreign feeling of his big, warm hands travelling underneath her shirt and up the bare skin of her torso.

Hesitant, he pulled back to look at her. “Fin … is this okay?”

For a brief moment, she’d wanted to say no—your eyes are too blue instead of a brown so dark it bordered on black, and your hair is blond, not dark and silky.
Leaving,
she reminded herself.
Ryan was leaving.

She couldn’t wait for something that wasn’t going to happen. She liked Ian. Her parents liked Ian. He had dreams of his own and they didn’t involve fighting someone else’s war—he was going to be a police officer.

Ian pulled back at her pause, and Jake and Ryan chose that moment to return home early. Fin’s lips were swollen and her hair mussed. As she quickly adjusted her shirt, it was obvious what they’d been up to.

“Ian,” Jake said coldly. “Think it’s about time you left, mate.”

Ian ignored Jake and looked at her. “Do you want me to leave?”

Her eyes slid to where Ryan leaned against the doorframe. His stance was casual, yet his knuckles were white. His dark eyes focused on Ian’s hand where it was tucked intimately on her hip.

Anger welled in her chest at feeling guilty. How dare Ryan feel that way? He had no right.

“No, I don’t want you to leave,” she said irritably, her eyes returning to Ian, “but it
is
getting late.” Fin stood up and held out her hand. He took it in his and gave it a squeeze as he followed behind her. Fin threw Jake a dirty look as she led Ian out the front door, shutting it sharply behind the both of them.

“Sorry,” she told him, rolling her eyes as they stood on the front porch. “Brothers.”