I can’t believe I’m not there for any of it—that when I come home, I’ll be coming home to a son or daughter. Honestly? I can’t wait. I want to hold both of you in my arms and tell you I love you. Tell you I’m sorry—that I was scared of not being good enough.
Please forgive me.
I don’t want you to think I’m saying this because we’re having a baby. Maybe it might have taken me a bit longer to work it out in my head, but I would have eventually.
I miss you, baby. So much it hurts, but I’ll be home soon.
Please take good care of the both of you for me.
Love,
Ryan.
P.S. I’ve transferred money to your bank account. Please use it for whatever you or the baby needs.
Not good enough for her? That couldn’t be any further from the truth, and her heart felt lighter knowing he finally worked it out. He would be coming home soon and she would be where she wanted to be all along, waiting for him.
“Please come home safe, Ryan,” she whispered softly, trailing her fingers down the photo of the two of them on her computer.
How long ago it seemed now, the both of them smiling at her farewell party. That had been the last night she’d ever spent with Jake, and it couldn’t have been more bittersweet, or more perfect.
Out of curiosity, Fin signed into her internet banking and checked her bank account.
“Holy shit!” she shouted.
The laptop gave up its fight for space and crashed loudly to the floor. Rachael and her dad both came running out, their eyes wild, brushes held aloft as paint flew everywhere.
“Is it the baby?” Rachael burst out, almost breathless with panic.
“Fin?” her dad questioned.
Fin levered herself from the couch and made a grab for the laptop that laid overturned on the ground. “No.” She waved her hand at the computer. “It just fell off my lap, that’s all.”
Rachael sagged visibly with relief. “You’re supposed to be resting. Stop freaking us out! You keep faking your little labour pains to get your own way and it’s sending us all into gibbering lunatics.”
“I didn’t do it deliberately,” Fin pointed out as she huffed about on the floor, trying to bend over with no success. “A little help?” she panted.
Her dad grabbed her arm, none too gently, and assisted her back to the couch. His efforts left a big smear of creamy yellow paint up her forearm. “Awesome. Thanks, Dad,” she muttered as Rachael picked up her computer and set it down on the coffee table.
“Holy shit!” Rachael shouted as her eyes caught Fin’s bank account information spread out on the screen for all to see.
“Would you two ladies stop swearing at the top of your lungs? You’ll send an old man deaf,” her dad muttered.
Ignoring him, Fin waved her hand at the screen. “It’s from Ryan to ... you know ... help out with stuff for the baby.”
Rachael’s eyes took on a manic gleam as her dad squinted at the screen. “Does he think cots automatically come gold-plated and prams need mag wheels?” Those eyes narrowed as they focused on Fin. “Is this guilt money?”
“No! He emailed me.” Fin had no intention of sharing that email with anyone. It was private. It had all the love she felt for him swelling so big and so bright, she couldn’t breathe from it. “It’s going to be okay.” She grinned. “We’re going to be okay.”
Half an hour later
Eastern Afghanistan
The Black Hawk thundered heavily through the sky, three more following on their tail as Monty gave an update.
“We’re heading right into a hotbed of enemy fire,” he shouted. He looked Nathan in the eye and reinforced words they’d heard during their briefing. “You’re up first. Run low and hard for position. Signal when you’re ready for cover fire.”
Ryan ran his mind over the details. A patrol had been scoping out a village of potential enemy fighters, keeping watch and tracking details of possible militant activity. They’d taken images, analysed them, noted details and forwarded the information back to base, but during the operation, a soldier had been forced to initiate contact with the enemy and gunfire had escalated into a full scale fight.
Thanks to the intelligence gathered, the briefing Ryan attended encompassed enough detail on the village for them to be able to plan their approach.
“We enter in the western end of the village,” Monty continued, his voice forceful and commanding, “and make our way towards the northern end. No splitting up unless you’re caught under heavy fire and it’s absolutely necessary. We enter as a team, we leave as a team.”
Short nods were given in response as tension ran thick.
Ryan was calm on the outside—eyes focused, hands steady, body locked tight—but inside his blood was simmering, ready to bubble through his veins the minute they reached their destination.
“Kendall.”