Fighting Absolution

by Kate McCarthy

  Ugh. Aeroplane bathrooms are the worst. I unbuckle my seatbelt, rising. I scoot past June, my burgeoning belly bumping the seat in front of me. The male passenger spins around with a scowl as if I punched him.

  I restrain my middle finger with effort. There’s no time for a brawl. My stomach literally popped in the last two weeks as if I swallowed a balloon. Needing the toilet becomes DEFCON level one when there’s no room left for such things like internal organs.

  The flight attendant comes rushing down the aisle, a tolerant smile pasted on her face. “Ma’am, please remain seated. The fasten seat belt lights are on,” she tells me, actually pointing to them as if I had no idea what they were.

  I put a hand to my belly and let out a pained groan. “I need to use the bathroom. I’ll be quick.”

  “I’m sorry but we’ll be landing soon. Please take your seat.”

  My eyes narrow at her false tone of sympathy. I’m just a pesky fly in the ointment of her day. I could make it worse by letting go and pissing all over her navy shoes, but I won’t have time to change my clothes once we land. “Is everything okay with the plane?” I ask, my voice rising with alarm so everyone around me can hear. “I’m no expert or anything, but it sounds like the wheels aren’t coming down. Do we have enough fuel to be circling the airport like this?”

  Suddenly everyone is talking, passengers calling her from all directions. I hold back the smirk and dash down the aisle while she’s distracted.

  I slam the door closed and turn inside the tiny cubicle. Shoving down my skinny maternity jeans, my backside hits the seat and I let go with a moan of relief, peeing like a racehorse. Whoever said pregnancy was undignified got it one hundred percent right. There is nothing sexy about me right now.

  When I’m finished, I fix my clothes and wash my hands, checking my appearance in the mirror. I’m wearing makeup. Not much. Just enough to darken my lashes, tint my lips, and pinken my cheeks. I’m not sure it’s an improvement. I want Kyle to want me. I want him to take one look at me and lose his mind with lust, but I feel I’m fighting a losing battle. I’m busting from the bra beneath my fitted tee shirt, my belly is swollen, my skin puffy, and dark smudges circle my eyes. I’m just so damn tired. I fall into bed at night as if I ran a marathon each day.

  I dry my hands and leave the tiny cubicle. The flight attendant gives me the death stare as I return to my seat. I give her a little smile and a wave. I can’t help it. Baby hormones make me bitchy.

  I sit back with a sigh, knowing I’ll be needing to pee again soon. It’s a never-ending cycle of trips to the bathroom. My hands rub over my belly. I’m not big enough to feel any kicks from the outside, but I feel them on the inside. Tiny little swishes inside me like the wings of a butterfly.

  Kyle doesn’t know yet. No one does. Erin thinks my test was negative because I lied. To say she’s going to be a bit pissed about that is a massive understatement, but what choice did I have? Kyle is the father. Doesn’t he deserve to know before everyone else?

  The problem was that I couldn’t just tell him via a message, not with the way things are between us right now. I’ve given him the time and space he asked for, but have I given him too much? Is he moving on already? Was his love like a meteor entering the atmosphere—burning hot and bright before breaking apart into nothing?

  My hands grip tight to the armrests. If Kyle decides he doesn’t want me, well too damn bad. I’ll make him want me. Anything else is not an option.

  Ryan Kendall

  My Mustang accelerates from the lights with satisfying speed. The windows are down and air rushes in, swirling through the car and ruffling my hair. I cherish days like this where there’s nothing but the sun in the sky and the road ahead of me. I tilt my head up, passing near the airport. There’s a plane coming around, circling low. I glance at my watch before my eyes return to the road. Jamie should be landing any moment, which means I need to hurry.

  I punch down on the accelerator, heading towards the barracks. My gaze shifts to the rearview mirror, the cars behind me fading into the distance. I smirk behind my mirrored aviators, flicking my indicator on as I change lanes.

  Twenty minutes later, I’m easing into a park and making my way towards Kyle’s unit. I bang on the door before checking the handle. It’s unlocked. I swing it open, my eyes sweeping the space quickly and coming up empty. Tugging my phone free, I fire off a message.

  Ryan: Where are you?

  It doesn’t take him long to answer.

  Kyle: Why?

  Ryan: Because I need to talk to you.

  Kyle: So call me, dipshit.

  Kyle has been a wounded bear for months. Everyone is staying clear, keeping a ten-foot radius around his person as if he’ll attack at any given moment.

  I grit my teeth and type another message.

  Ryan: Just tell me where you are, asshole. I need help with something.

  Kyle: Ask someone else.

  I start back down the hall, heading for the gym, typing as I walk.

  Ryan: I built that goddamn Death Star with you.

  It took us all night. Kyle left in the dawn, taking it with him. It’s probably in pieces now, trashed in a fit of rage. I can’t blame him. I’m pretty sure I was almost as bad when it came to patching up the mess I made with Finlay, but Kyle has been marinating in his misery for months. Jamie’s plan better work or I’m going to tie a cement block to his feet and drop him in the Swan River.

  Kyle: Whoop-de-doo. Someone get this man a medal.

  He includes the hand-clapping emoji. Three of them. He follows it up with a gif of someone stepping up onto the podium at the Olympics, accepting a gold medal. Smartass.

  I take a deep breath, reminding myself that he’s hurting. We always lash out against those closest. I’m just the lucky one stuck in his direct firing line.

  I arrive at the gym, stepping inside and looking around. He’s not here either. I leave, typing again while I walk. I shoot off a message to Jamie.

  Ryan: Have you landed yet?

  I get no response. She should have touched down by now. In fact, she should be in a cab already. Why did I ever agree to this? Oh right, I wanted to help. Jamie owes me a case of whiskey. The expensive kind. A whole carton of cigars too. In fact, I’m going to make a list. They both owe me.

  Thinking that he’s possibly having a late breakfast, I send another message on my way to the mess hall.

  Ryan: Are you listening to yourself right now? You’re acting like a giant man-child.

  Kyle: Resorting to insults? Who’s the man-child now?

  Fuck him. When I get my hands on him I’m going to strangle him until he’s blue in the face.

  “Hey, Kendall!”

  I look up from my screen, twisting my head. Paul Montgomery, our troop commander, is jogging up behind me. He’s in his early forties now, but he’s fit and experienced, inspiring confidence not just in our team but across the entire regiment. He’s just that likeable. He uses his position of power for good rather than evil, earning my respect and lifelong loyalty years ago. Unlike Kyle, who can go take a long walk off a short cliff.

  He falls into step beside me. “What are you doing here on your day off?”

  “I wish to God I knew,” I mutter and his brows rise in question. “Long story. Have you seen Brooks?”

  He shakes his head. “Not today. Why? What’s he done this time?”

  “This time?”

  “He got into it with Nathan at card night last night. I wasn’t there, but I heard Nathan accused him of cheating and Kyle flipped the whole goddamn table, grabbing him by the throat and slamming him up against the wall. Took three men to pry him loose.”

  “Jesus fucking Christ.” I swipe a hand down my face, worry a knot inside my stomach. I knew it was bad but this? This isn’t him.

  “Maybe try the field? Some of the guys were talking about a rugby friendly.”

  “Thanks, mate,” I say, already jogging backwards. “Gotta go.”

  He gives me a
casual salute, and I turn, high-tailing it to where the field is situated between the beach and the barracks. I jog over to the small handful of soldiers on the sidelines, my eyes on the game playing out in front of me. They’re caught up in a scrum on the far side, too far for me to make out any one person. All I can tell is that one team is wearing black shirts, the other wearing none.

  “Brooks out there?” I ask the group in general, though I know each of them personally.

  “He’s on the shirtless team.” Riggs, the soldier standing closest to me, points in the direction of the fast-moving, hard-hitting bodies. “You can’t miss him.”

  Someone else speaks up. “He’s the one who thinks it’s a boxing match instead of a friendly.”

  My eyes pick him out as they get closer. He’s a mess. Sweaty. Covered in mud from head to toe because it rained for three days straight this week, the clouds only clearing just last night. He has the ball tucked under his armpit, and he’s running for a try.

  “How long have they been playing?” I ask.

  “Only a few minutes.”

  He gets closer, the pounding of heavy legs thundering across the earth. The black shirts are chasing him down, pushing him towards the sideline, the shirtless storming up from behind as if they’re battling for Winterfell and not just a damn ball.

  Kyle is fast, but someone comes at him from the side, taking him in a savage tackle right near our feet. They go down and the ground shudders beneath me.

  I reach down and grab his tattooed arm from the pile, using all my strength to pull him free of the scrum. His left eye is already swelling and blood leaks from his nose and his bottom lip as he gets to his feet. Christ.

  “What the fuck, Kendall,” he gasps, bending, hands on his knees as he sucks air into his lungs.

  “You need to come with me.” I’m already turning, fuming, stalking from the field, done with his reckless behaviour. First it was mildly amusing to see him go down the same path I travelled not long before. Then it was simply irritating. Now it’s downright alarming. Kyle is more than a friend to me, he’s my goddamn brother, and it physically aches to see him struggle like this. “Grab your shirt.”

  “I’m in the middle of a game!” he yells to my back.

  “Now, Brooks,” I bark, not even turning, my voice a command as I pull rank, something I hardly ever do. “That’s a goddamn order.”

  Kyle falls into step beside me. I glance across at him. He’s shrugging on his shirt, muddying the white cotton. He grabs the hem and uses it to wipe his face, staining it with blood and sweat and dirt, his lips pressed into a thin line. There’s no time to get him showered and cleaned up, so I stalk straight to the parking lot. He keeps up with me but he doesn’t speak. He’s pissed. I reach the Mustang, unlocking the car.

  “Get in.”

  Kyle opens the passenger door, sliding his stinking, hulking body inside. He slams it closed like a sulky child, and my car shudders beneath the force. My hands curl into fists, but I allow the tantrum. Just this once. And only because I pulled rank on him.

  He winds down his window, and we drive off in tense silence. He doesn’t ask me where we’re going or what we’re doing. I don’t even get a single wisecrack.

  I can’t deliver him to Jamie like this, but I don’t know what to say to snap him out of it.

  We arrive at our destination, and I switch the ignition off. The engine ticks over in the sudden silence and my phone dings. I check the screen with discretion.

  Jamie: Landed. On my way. Five minutes out.

  Ryan: We’re already here.

  Jamie: Shit. Ok. Can you wait just a bit longer?

  Ryan: Let me know when you’re one minute out.

  “Can I just say one thing?”

  Kyle sets his jaw. “No, but I’m sure that won’t stop you.”

  “You had a week between booking your flight and going to see Jamie.”

  “So?”

  “That’s a whole week you had to think about how you felt. To plan what you would say. An entire week to put your thoughts into actions. You left with your little grand gesture and your speech because you had it all figured out. Was Jamie supposed to have it all miraculously figured out too, just because you did? I know you never expected her to fall at your feet, but you didn’t even give her a day. Instead you left because you thought she put the army above you.”

  “She did,” he croaks like a wounded caged animal. “It’s all she’s ever wanted.”

  “You’re wrong.”

  “Yeah? Well what would you know?”

  “I know you’ve lost people close to you. We all have. We’ve all learnt the hard way that loving someone is a risk.”

  Kyle shakes his head. “Jamie doesn’t love me the same way I love her.”

  “How do you know? You got a chance to take the risk, but you never gave her the chance to take it with you!”

  Kyle rubs a hand over his face, his throat working as he swallows, seeming to take in everything I just said. I could probably add more, but it’s time to pass the baton. He’s Jamie’s problem now.

  My phone beeps again. I check the screen before tucking the device away.

  Jamie: One minute.

  “Get out,” I tell him.

  His brows fly up. “What?”

  “You heard me.” I jerk my chin at the handle of his door. “Get out.”

  Kyle climbs out but I remain buckled in my seat, hands on the wheel. He shuts the door and turns, ducking down. He rests his muddy forearms on the open window. “What are we doing here?”

  “I’m not doing anything here.” I turn the key and the engine roars to life with a throaty growl. I’ll never tire of the sound. I start backing out, and Kyle follows after me, brows snapping together, arms splaying wide. “Kendall, what the fuck?”

  “You’re welcome,” I say out the window before roaring off down the street, my duty done.

  37

  KYLE

  My eyes follow the Mustang as it thunders down the street we just came from. What the hell is going on? Is this some kind of Disney moment, where I get dumped miles from home and have to find my way back, somehow finding myself along the way?

  Because Ryan is way off the mark. I know the plague is more appealing than I am right now. I know I’m being a complete dick. I know I didn’t give Jamie a chance. Ryan’s little ‘come to Jesus’ sermon was not a revelation. I expected too much of her too soon, and when I didn’t get it, I acted like a little bitch. He would’ve done better actually telling me what I could do to fix it rather than pointing out what a colossal shit sandwich I made of everything.

  And my text to Jamie? Time and space, my ass. The past three months have been hell. I’ve been spiralling, sucked down inside a black hole I can’t seem to claw my way out of. I’m so fucking lost without her.

  I shove my hands in the pockets of my rugby shorts and turn, facing the ocean. It’s the only place that seems to calm me, but even it holds memories of Jamie for me too. Like the time she dived drunk into the waves in just her underwear—so reckless and beautiful. Or the argument we had on the beach while holding Monty’s little girl, Ollie.

  “How can I have kids of my own, knowing there are babies over there that have no one?”

  Would the folder change her mind? We got six of them to safety, including Arash. Giving each one a chance at a better future. But we can’t save them all. And the thought of Jamie turning her back on a family of her own because of that makes me ache.

  A car pulls in behind me. I hear the crunch of gravel as the wheels roll over it. I half turn, hands still in my pockets, the breeze from the ocean ruffling my hair. A cab pulls to a stop nearby and the back-passenger door opens. My lungs close up when Jamie steps out, shock rooting me to the ground as she flicks the sunglasses on her face to the top of her head. Her eyes are on me as she closes the door behind her. It’s coming into summer yet she’s wearing tight jeans, heeled boots, and a thick, bulky coat as if she’s expecting snow.

  “
Kyle,” she says. I’m too far away to hear it, but I see my name on her lips.

  The cab driver steps out behind her, opening the boot of his car, pulling out suitcase after suitcase, yet she stands there unmoving, watching me.

  “Where do you want these, love?” the cabbie asks.

  “Can you put it all on the porch?” she asks without taking her eyes from mine.

  He bustles about while I stand there trying to recover my breath. How is it she’s more beautiful than I ever remembered? Her hair is thick and glossy. Longer than I’ve ever seen it. Her skin looks warm and tanned, her lips lush and pink. She’s literally glowing from the inside out as if she swallowed the sun.

  Damn Ryan. Damn him to hell for dumping me here all bloodied and filthy. I look like a train wreck, and I feel worse. I take a step forward and stop, suddenly unsure.

  What is she doing here?

  Jamie takes a step forward herself before being distracted by the driver. He’s unloading boxes from the back seat now, walking between us, oblivious as he goes about his task.

  She takes another step, a rueful expression on her beautiful face. “This isn’t how I planned everything to be.”

  I’m confused by her statement. By the suitcases. The boxes. “What do you mean?”

  Her next step is hesitant, and I catch a glimpse of fear on her face. I’ve never seen Jamie so scared in my life. Never. That’s she scared now, here with me, almost breaks me apart. “I had a whole speech prepared,” she tells me, letting out a shaky huff, “and I can’t remember any of it.”

  “A speech?” I echo, sounding dumb as dog shit. I can’t help it. Jamie is here as if I manifested her from the dreams she haunts me in every night.

  “Yeah.” She tucks her hands inside her pockets, mimicking me, and now we’re both standing here staring at each other like motionless statues.

  The cab driver saunters over. “All done, love.”

  “Okay, thanks,” she tells him, her eyes still on mine like she can’t drag them away. I can’t make sense of it, why she’s here right now, looking at me that way, but it fills something inside me, something that felt so achingly hollow just minutes before.