After a quick shower, Fin and Ryan arrived at her parents’ house. His heart had been in his throat the entire drive as Fin crunched and ground the gears of his beloved car. He didn’t yell once, and if that wasn’t love, he didn’t know what was.
Fin had a tendency to get far too distracted with scenery rather than keeping her eyes peeled to the road. Usually he found her sweet inattention endearing, but not when it involved driving his car. Even the relief he felt when Fin pulled into the driveway wasn’t enough to take his mind from the nerves seeing Mike and Julie evoked.
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.