“Do you ever wonder what happens when you die?”
Kassidy’s face swam in his mind, and Ryan swallowed the ache. “Sometimes,” he replied. “I guess it’s normal to think about it, isn’t it?”
“It’s just … I think if I ever lost a parent I’d wonder if they were still there, hovering somewhere on the edges and watching out for me. I’m scared that when you die that’s it. There’s nothing after that, like the entire life you lived really is all gone in the blink of an eye.”
Ryan’s stomach rolled at the thought of Fin dying. It wasn’t ever going to happen—at least not while he was alive to see it. “I don’t know what happens after you die, Fin, but if there really is just nothing, I guess it makes that whole make the most of your life, you only live once thing that much more compelling.”
“I googled it,” she admitted.
“You googled life after death?” Ryan fought a smile. How typical of her to get to the facts of the matter.
“I did. Did you know that when you die, your brain keeps working for thirty seconds after blood flow stops? Then it just switches off. I guess science can’t tell you much more beyond that point.”
“What do you think happens?”
“I think believing in life after death is a coping mechanism—a way for death not to overwhelm the mind with its finality. Does it make me stupid for still wanting to believe in it anyway?”
“Stupid?” Ryan allowed his hands to rest on her hips, loving the feel of her smooth skin. He tugged her closer and she shivered beneath his touch. “You’re the smartest person I know.” Then he winked at her. “Besides me of course.”
Fin’s eyes lit up with laughter, and his lungs expanded at her beauty, at being the one to make her laugh.
“Are you two idiots going swimming, or are you just gonna stand there making cow eyes at each other?” Jake yelled.
“Cow eyes?” Ryan yelled back in the most disbelieving tone he could muster.
Jake laughed as a pretty flush climbed Fin’s neck.
“Come on.” Ryan grabbed her hand and started leading her into the water. “Let’s get this body surfing lesson under way.”
“Ryan.”
Ryan turned, but Fin wasn’t there. How could she have just disappeared in an instant? Breathless with fear, his eyes searched for Jake, but he was gone too. The entire beach was empty—the only sound was the waves crashing in the ocean. Ryan stood alone, icy water swirling around his ankles as the day turned dark and cold. Was this the thirty seconds that Fin talked about? Was this all he had left before blackness stole all the beauty away?
“Ryan!”
Irritated, Ryan ignored the voice. Something was wrong. He needed to get back to the beach and find Fin.
“Damn you, Kendall. Wake the f**k up! Fin needs you.”
Ryan’s eyes blinked open. “What?” he croaked. He tried focusing. Someone was hovering over him. He could see light, but it was hazy, like a film of white was covering his eyes.
“You have to leave now. He needs rest,” came a firm voice from somewhere to his right.
“You really have no idea what he needs, lady,” Monty growled from somewhere on his right.
“That’s Doctor Lady to you,” came the firm voice again, albeit a bit more snippy this time.
Ryan blinked rapidly and turned his head to focus on Monty. Why did he feel so damn sluggish and sore? “What the hell happened out there, Monty?”
Monty’s brows drew together. “You don’t remember?”
Ryan’s head fell back against the pillow and he closed his eyes. “The rope … They were shooting at me …”
“They got you, Kendall. Once in the shoulder, arm, and the leg. I came down the rope. Managed to grab you just before you fell. They winched us both up and we you got you the f**k out of there.”
“How long have I been out?”
“Twelve hours from the start of surgery ‘til now. Kendall … Kyle rang through. He’s—”
His eyes flew open. “Nathan?”
Monty shook his head, the movement short and impatient. “Another team grabbed him and radioed it in. Shot like you but he’s fine. Look, Kendall, something’s happened to Fin.”
“To Fin?” Ryan’s hands started to shake and he fisted them. “Monty?”
Monty stepped closer to the bed, rubbing his jaw. “Fin’s at the hospital. The doctors are saying she’s got something called eclampsia. They’re doing an emergency caesarean right now. She’s lost a lot of blood. It’s … Ryan …” Monty held his eyes. “She’s not doing so good. It sounds like her organs might be starting to shut down.”
Ryan shook his head. “No.” What Monty was telling him couldn’t possibly be real. Not his Fin. No. Just … no.
“Kendall. We have to—”
Leaning up on what he recognised as a hospital bed inside Bagram Airbase with no idea how he got there, Ryan fisted Monty’s shirt in his hands. “No! Please,” he cried weakly, shaking his head over and over, swallowing desperately against an enormous wave of fear. “No.”
Monty’s lips pressed together, visibly fighting back tears. “I’m sorry.”
“Fuck sorry!” he roared. He shoved Monty back hard enough for him to stumble and swung his legs over the bed. Pain screamed through his body like a freight train. “I have to get home,” he panted, sweat popping along his brow. “Now. I need to get out of here.” He met Monty’s eyes. “Help me,” he begged hoarsely. “Please.”
Monty nodded. “Whatever you need me to do.”
The doctor came racing over with a cart, her jaw set determinedly. “You’re not going anywhere. You need time to heal and rest.”
Ignoring the doctor, Monty helped Ryan to his feet, and he cried out as his stitches started tearing. Red patches were blooming on the bandages winding around his shoulder, left bicep, and leg.
The doctor pushed her way through, and a deep, burning rage gave him the strength to shove her cart out of the way. It careened wildly across the floor, hitting the wall opposite with a loud clatter before tipping over.
“You’re not listening!” he yelled, breathing heavily. “I have to get out of here!”
“You’re busting all your stitches!” she shouted back.
“I. Don’t. Care,” he growled, his clenched fists trembling where they rested by his sides. Ryan looked to Monty. “Monty?”
“Already arranged your leave. Got your bags packed. Flight’s waiting for you.”
Swaying, Ryan closed his eyes for a brief moment. “Thank you,” he whispered.
Chapter Twenty-Five
After being rushed through Australian Customs, Ryan left the airport. The automatic doors opened at his approach, and he stepped out. The sky was dark, the air cool, and the stars blinked vibrantly. Closing his eyes for a brief moment, Ryan tilted his head, breathing deep.
Home.
Yet it had never felt less welcoming.
Searching for Kyle’s car, he found it idling by the kerb, Kyle at the wheel. Seeing Ryan, he went to step out of the car but Ryan waved him off. The young soldier following behind Ryan stowed his bag in the boot, and after thanking him with a brief salute, Ryan opened the passenger door and slid inside.
A sharp pain stabbed his shoulder as he reached for the seatbelt and he hissed. “Shit.” Giving up, he rested his head against the seat, cold sweat popping out on his brow. “How is she?”
Checking his mirrors, Kyle accelerated into the street. “Kendall …”
God. Ryan could hear a thousand emotions in that one, solitary word. He closed his eyes and braced himself for the worst. “Tell me.”
“Fin went into cardiac arrest.” Kyle’s voice cracked. “She’s slipped into a coma.”
“Fuck,” Ryan moaned, swallowing the tears that burned his throat. “I can’t lose her, Kyle. I can’t.” Opening his eyes, he stared out into the night. Buildings, cars, trees—they were all a blur as Kyle raced them towards the hospital. “What happened?”
“I spoke to Monty. He told me Fin was listed as your next of kin. You were shot, Kendall. You know with those sorts of injuries they notify next of kin personally, especially since the media got involved. He thought—we both thought—it would be a good idea if I went too.”
“I didn’t think.” Ryan swiped a hand across his face. “I should have changed her from next of kin.”
“No.” Kyle glanced at him, meeting his eyes for a brief second before returning his focus to the road. “You shouldn’t have. She’s the one who has the right to know first.”
Ryan nodded, swallowing. Even though it wasn’t fair to put that on Fin’s shoulders, Kyle was right, but at what cost? “Was that why … did she …”
“According to the ER doctor, Fin was already in trouble and it went downhill from there. She used to fake labour pains.” Kyle huffed, shaking his head. “She’d get this little furrow in her brow and would groan and shit—do the whole belly clutch thing just so she could get her way. She got me with it every time, and for a split second it would scare the shit out of me…” Kyle paused, checking his mirrors before changing lanes “…but when we knocked on the door, she was already pale, breathing heavy and hunched over like it hurt just to stand. As stupid as it sounds, I think if you hadn’t got hurt, we wouldn’t have been there when we were, and it might’ve been too late.”
Ryan stared out the window. “I owe you for being there.”
Kyle’s lips pressed in a thin line as he changed gears. “You don’t owe me shit. It’s life. That’s all. Just life. What we do isn’t easy, and it’s not just us that live it—the people we leave behind do too. War is a cold, selfish bitch, Kendall. It changes you. It makes you hard, and it makes you hurt, yet somehow, we keep going back for more.”
“Because we’re soldiers,” Ryan told him, feeling hollow. “It’s not just our job. It’s who we are.”
How many people had he seen die in his lifetime? Kyle was right. It did make you hurt. While people were moving on, living their lives, a deep pulsating hurt lived in him from what he’d seen, and what he’d done, and it would never leave him alone—it was there to stay—and it should have crippled him a thousand times over, but he was hanging on by his fingernails because of Fin. If he lost her, he wouldn’t be able to hang on anymore. Already, he could feel himself slipping.
“You’re not just a soldier anymore, Kendall. You’re a father now too.” Kyle glanced over at him, his eyes brightening for a brief moment. “And he looks just like you.”
“A son?” Ryan sucked in a sharp breath. He had a son? How was he supposed to be the father he always wanted to be without Fin alongside him? And what did he know about babies? Nothing. Absolutely nothing. Tears blurred his vision when he realised there was one thing he did know—his son would be loved, and he would never have cause to doubt it.