We start for our sleeping quarters, both with our hands tucked in our pockets. It seems safer that way. “I’ve thought about you a lot since that night,” Jake admits after a few moments of quiet between us both.
I can’t hide the warm burst of pleasure from my expression. “Really?”
“Yeah.”
“What have you thought about specifically?”
He grins across at me. “Nothing you need to know.”
“Jake!” I bump his shoulder with mine, our hands still pocketed. “You can’t do that.”
“Do what?”
“Think stuff about me and then not tell me what it is.”
After a quick glance left and right, Jake frees his hands and grabs my arm, pulling me down behind an unlit building. He nudges me in front of him until we reach a dark corner. I’m pushed up against the wall, his chest pressing into me, warm and hard.
We stare at each other for a single heartbeat.
Then his mouth hits mine.
Yes. Yes.
My arms come up around his neck, grabbing at hair, at skin, holding him tight. There’s nothing else but Jake surrounding me. His lips, his tongue in my mouth and mine in his, his erection pushing up against my belly. We come up for air, a brief second, before we’re kissing again. He yanks the tie from my braid, unravelling my hair and fisting it in his hands as his mouth moves on mine.
“This,” he gasps against my lips. “This is what I’ve thought about.” Jake rips my shirt free of my pants and slides his hands up my bare stomach. His fingers dig under the wire of my sports bra until my naked breasts fills his warm, scratchy palms. He rubs and pinches my nipples, and sharp bolts of pleasure shoot through me. I moan, my head tilting back and hitting the building. “That feels so good.”
“It feels fucking amazing,” he mutters into my neck as he touches me, our warm breaths puffing into the cold night like little clouds. “I want to be inside you so bad.”
“God, yes,” I gasp.
Jake nudges my thigh, and I wrap it around his hip. He grinds into me, the rigid length of him hitting all the right spots. Heat erupts between my legs. “Jesus, I could come just like this.”
“Me too.”
It’s so much harder this time. More desperate. Frantic. We don’t have all night. Just this. A snatched moment in time.
Voices and bodies hit our peripheral vision.
“Shit.” Jake pulls back with a groan, adjusting himself while I shove my shirt back inside my pants.
“Where’s my hair tie?”
He hands it to me and I quickly pull the tousled mess into a low ponytail. Reasonably respectable, we walk back past the building and into a more lit area, moving back in the direction of our bunks, and I’m so frustrated I want to cry.
“So that was a bad idea,” he mutters with a half-chuckle, though he sounds like he wants to cry too … and maybe punch something.
“Totally.”
And yet it wasn’t, because I forgot everything when he was touching me. Every damn thing. I want more of that as much as I want more of him.
15
JAMIE
Commander Bowen glances up at me from across his desk. “I’m referring you for a mental health evaluation.”
My brows snap together, confused, while he goes back to reading the open file on his desk. It’s the day after our marathon game of poker. I woke at three in the morning and couldn’t get back to sleep. A check in the mirror found dark circles forming beneath my eyes. I shrugged it off. My bed is narrow and hard, my pillow thin. No one could sleep properly in those conditions. I lay in bed for two hours, replaying Jake’s kiss in my head over and over, before I forced my tired body up and into my gym gear.
After a lengthy bicep and shoulder session on the weights, Wood came in, finding me in the far back on the stair climber.
“You have to report to Commander Bowen. Five minutes.”
“What the hell?” I griped, grabbing my sweaty towel and making a run for the door. “What for?”
He shrugged but wouldn’t look me in the eye. I didn’t have time to question him. Instead I raced to my bunk, changed without showering, and exactly five minutes later I was knocking on my commander’s door.
“Sir, I’m fine. I don’t think—”
He doesn’t look up from the file. “I’m not asking you if you think you’re okay. I’m asking the mental health officer to make that particular assessment.”
I baulk, stuck between wanting to protest and following my commander’s directive.
“That’s an order, Private Murphy,” he barks to my lingering form, looking up with irritation.
My nostrils flare. He doesn’t care about my mental welfare specifically, he cares about the overall health of his team. It’s like contracting gangrene in your foot. It’s just in the one spot, but it can make your entire body sick. And if it can’t be treated, you cut it off. “When, sir?”
“Now. Dismissed.”
Shit.
I snap a salute and leave his office, twisting to shut the door behind me. I don’t care how tedious the medical supplies stocktake is, I’d rather be there with them right now than on my way to a mental health evaluation. No doubt they’ll survive without me for a few minutes. Surely it won’t take longer than that.
Starting forward, I slam into a large body and literally bounce off it. I look up, righting myself. Freaking Kyle seems to pop up wherever I am, like a mole surfacing from a hole in the ground.
I scowl, suddenly remembering the way he looked at me yesterday in the gym. His awareness of the village attack and my involvement. Then there were the taunts throughout our game yesterday. And the way he spoke to me at breakfast that first morning, as if I don’t belong here. The pieces of the puzzle click together. “You,” I hiss.
Kyle holds up his hands in a gesture of surrender. “My bad. What did I do?”
“You’re trying to get me kicked off base and sent back home.”
“Wow.” He cocks his head. “You think I’m trying to get you kicked out? What kind of asshole do you think I am?”
I take in his size with narrowed eyes. “The big kind.”
His own eyes narrow in return. “Whatever wire you have crossed, you better uncross it.”
My brows fly up. The freaking audacity. I’m not the one in the wrong here. I take an aggressive step forward, folding my arms. “Or else what?”
Kyle shakes his head. “What’s going on, Murphy?”
“I’m being sent to mental health, no thanks to you. That is what’s going on. What did you say to my commander? Did you mention something about the village attack? Because you don’t know what happened. You weren’t there!”
“I didn’t say anything, but it seems like I’ve already been found guilty in the court of Jamie Murphy without a fair trial.”
I stare him down, trying to find evidence of guilt on his face. Then his expression gentles, as if he’s trying to approach a wild animal. “I know what went down because I’m friends with Corporal Marsh,” he says quietly, watching me carefully. “He told me what happened. He might have mentioned you’d made friends with the some of the kids who died, one in particular who was orphaned in the attack. Arash, I think? I’m sorry. It’s never easy, but when it’s kids? It’s the fucking worst.”
Fucking hell.
My eyes hit my feet, blinking rapidly. “It really is.”
“Murphy.”
I can’t look up.
“Murphy.”
“What?” I snap, lifting my chin, my eyes hitting his.
“For what it’s worth, I didn’t mention it to anyone,” he says, and I know he means he didn’t mention it to Jake. “It’s up to you what you choose to share.”
And I’m choosing not to share at all. I don’t want to keep Jake in the dark, but it’s too hard to talk about. The images flood my mind, and the ache of leaving that boy all alone rips at my heart. With Jake I don’t have to think about any of it. It’s just me and him and nothing el
se. I want to keep it that way.
I brush past Kyle. “I have to go.”
“Wait,” he calls out and reaches for me. Then he stops himself.
I pause, lips mashing together for a moment before I turn, waiting for him to say whatever it is that’s so damn important.
“Being a combat medic …” he trails off for a moment like he’s thinking carefully about what he wants to say. “Mental health checks can be common for you guys during deployment. You see more than most because that’s your job. You’re not just there during combat, you get called in when everything turns to shit. And everything turns to shit a lot around here. Just …”
I shift impatiently, his advice unwarranted and just plain pissing me off. “Just what?”
His eyes soften in a way I don’t understand. “Just talk to someone, Murphy. Anyone. Don’t take it home with you when you leave.”
“I get it, okay? But I’m fine. There’s nothing to talk about.”
I stalk off.
“Murphy?”
I pause and turn. “What?”
Kyle shakes his head. “You can’t save everyone.”
A few minutes later, I’m knocking on another door, my chest tight. I don’t like strange therapist-type people poking into my business, trying to find something wrong so they can blame it on family issues and feel like they’ve done their job.
“Come in,” calls a male voice.
I turn the knob and step inside. The man behind the desk also has his head stuck in a file. It seems to be a common theme today. He doesn’t look older than forty in his face but he has a head full of grey hair and reading glasses. “It says here you went to Chatsworth High School all the way over in Melville, Western Australia,” he says, perusing the papers in front of him. “From there it was straight to basic training.” He pulls his glasses off and looks at me. “And you chose to be a combat medic.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Take a seat.” He gestures across the desk. “And inside this room you can call me Michael. May I call you Jamie?”
“Yes, sir. Michael. Sir.” Ugh. First naming in the military feels incredibly weird.
“Do you enjoy your role?” he asks as I take the seat opposite, my back ramrod straight.
“Yes, sir. Michael.”
“What is it you like so much?”
“I like helping people, and I should get back to doing that. So maybe you could tell me what this is all about?”
Michael leans back in his seat, settling his arms on the armrests as if he’s ready to chat the morning away. “You’ve been through a lot already on your first deployment here. Handling trauma cases in the hospital, combat, IEDs, not to mention your efforts on the Hearts and Minds mission. You spent weeks there,” he says as if I didn’t already know. “Treating the locals. Gaining their trust. Even making friends. Did you like that part of your role most, Jamie? Helping them with their health care needs?”
I nod, lips pressed together. It was the highlight of my time here. They took their time opening up, learning English words, speaking them tentatively. And the gratitude in their eyes after giving life-saving vaccines and wound care on minor issues like cuts and boils, things that eased their comfort and helped them sleep at night, was incredibly rewarding. I felt ten feet tall at the end of every day. But finding them all struck down after the village attack will stick with me for life.
The image of their bodies flash before my eyes, the scent of their charred flesh hitting my nostrils.
Bile rises.
Jesus.
“Jamie?”
I swallow it down, knowing there’s no changing what happened. There’s no bringing those people back, no matter how much you talk about it.
Michael seems to sense my unwillingness to travel down that path and changes tack. “You and Colin Wood are friends? Your file says you went through training together and were both deployed here in the same unit.”
“That’s right,” I croak and clear my throat. “We met in basic training.”
“It must be nice, having a friend here with you?”
I nod. “It’s great.”
“What about back home? You have friends there?”
“Erin. We went to school together.”
“Do you keep in touch with Erin while you’re here? Phone? Email?”
“Email mostly.”
“That’s good.” Michael nods. “Good.”
“Is that it, then?” I half-rise. “Because I should get back to work.”
“You do seem eager to get back into it.” He scribbles something in my file. “How about I ask you three quick questions before I let you go.”
Three quick questions. Great. I can do that easy. Relief loosens my shoulders, and I relax back in my seat. “Sure. Go ahead.”
“I’m empowered by the army to determine if you’re operating in an impaired capacity in your current role. To do that I need you to be truthful. So tell me, Jamie, have you spoken to any of your friends about what you’ve been dealing with here during your deployment?”
“I’m pretty sure they know.”
He shrugs. “Maybe they do, but I’m after a yes or no.”
My teeth grind together. “No.”
“Do you think maybe you can talk to them? Or me, if you need? My door is always open.”
“Sure. Absolutely.”
Michael draws in a deep breath and scribbles in my file again. “Do you think getting out there and performing further duties under your role as a combat medic is best for your current mental status right now?”
My nod is firm. Sure. I couldn’t imagine doing anything else. “I know it is.”
“Okay then.” He sets his pen down and eases back in his chair, steepling his fingers. “Get back out there.”
“That’s it?” I was expecting him to delve into every nook and cranny of my life—from the abandonment of my mother and her choosing a cash settlement in lieu of custody to the spiralling health of my father and his subsequent death. If Michael had asked, I would have told him I’m glad my mother left. Who wants to be raised by someone who values money more than human life? I would have told him my father was a great dad. He taught me everything I needed to know. We had a great life, however short our time was together.
Michael smiles. “That’s it.”
Weeks pass by. I spend it working with my unit and with the hospital and trying to find information on Arash. He was sent to a neighbouring village. That’s all I can find. I’ve been trying to get on patrols heading out that way, but it’s not that simple. This is the army. I do what I’m told, and consequences are severe if I don’t. Getting locked up for insubordination won’t help my cause.
“You okay?” Wood asks, watching me pick at my dinner from his seat across the table.
“Yeah.”
“You’re in a mood. And you’re not eating.”
How can I? I’ve been Googling orphaned children in Afghanistan. Knowing the conditions Arash will be faced with makes the food in my mouth taste like sawdust. “Thanks, Captain Obvious. I’m not hungry.”
“You’re always hungry.”
“I had a big lunch.”
“You’ve been Googling again, haven’t you?”
I shrug. Wood caught me on Google the other day, and I couldn’t eat for the rest of the day after that. Statistics swarmed in my head like an angry bunch of bees. Afghanistan has been identified as the worst place in the world to be a child. Arash was facing an uphill battle just by being born. There’s no foster care system. Kids without family are subject to labour, violence, illiteracy, and worse … enrolled in terrorist groups and brainwashed or used as child suicide bombers. Danger, poverty, and death is their normal.
I have only four weeks left before returning to Australia, and there’s nothing I can do to help him. Call it a hunch, but I’m pretty sure they’d notice if I tried smuggling him home on the plane—that’s if I could even find him first.
“This place sucks.”
“Agre
ed.” Wood looks around the crowded mess hall. “I can’t wait to get home.”
Jake sets a tray down beside me and takes a seat, close enough to give my shoulder a brief nudge. His proximity has my heart leaping like a pole vaulter at the Olympics.
“Did someone just say the magic word?” he asks.
“Home,” Wood says again.
I look sideways. Jake is grinning. “No place like it.”
“Speaking of home …” I clear my throat. “I’ve been thinking—”
“Don’t strain yourself,” Kyle quips as he takes a seat opposite, beside Wood.
My lips mash together, despite his teasing tone. Jake doesn’t know about our altercation. I’m glad Kyle didn’t say anything because I feel like a fool. I owe him a long overdue apology after my outburst. It was ludicrous to assume he was trying to have me sent home. He just happened to be there during a moment of frustration, and I lashed out. I realised it soon after calming down, but Kyle is making it impossible to say sorry.
“As I was saying,” I continue, ignoring the loutish soldier, “I was thinking of returning to Perth after we finish up here. I could stay with Erin.”
It would give Jake and me a chance to spend some time together. We haven’t discussed a future. It’s hard to envision a long-distance relationship when we’re based on opposite sides of the country. I’m not sure it would work, but a date or two would be nice. Maybe some time between the sheets if I’m lucky.
At the moment we’re stuck playing card games with friends and stealing kisses in the dark. It’s Frustration City.
Judging by the gleam in Jake’s eyes, he’s a hundred percent on board. “Oh yeah?”
I reach for my coffee—a double shot because my day isn’t over yet—and smile over the rim as I take a sip. “Yeah.”
Wood sounds affronted. “You never told me that.”
Because I only just decided. Playing in a pit of snakes sounds more appealing than being stuck in Townsville for a month of leave right now. It would be four entire weeks to sit around on my own and think about how I failed Arash and the other children of the village. It’s unfair how I get to board a plane and leave them all behind as if they never mattered.
Fighting Absolution Page 14