Prologue - Dominic
TWO YEARS AGO
The countdown was officially on.
Two years until I’d be on a plane out of this sand-covered hell hole. One hundred and four weeks until I could track Ryan down. Seven hundred and thirty days until I’d be breathing the same air as him.
Until he’d likely punch me in the face.
That was fine. Honestly, I expected and deserved nothing less.
That didn’t mean I was returning unprepared. Endless shifts on watch had given me a lot of time to reflect. To think.
All my thoughts were of Ryan. It didn’t matter how much time passed, that never changed. I thought about what he might be doing. Of whether I ever crossed his mind. Of the little kernels of knowledge I learned about him from social media, or Max’s calls with their mother. I hoarded those nuggets like a miser, not letting anyone else know about them, but taking them out to examine each and every night.
I knew Ryan was living back in the town where wegrew up. That he’d moved back after graduating from York University with a first-class honours degree.
In business. Not art.
Discovering that had sent me on a bender I wasn’t proud of. Couldn’t look back on it without cringing, even all these years later.
He’d got a job at some fancy-ass accountancy firm and worked his way up the ranks in a ruthless way that I couldn’t help but be proud of. Maybe he’d learned something from me, all those years ago. Or maybe he’d chosen this course to spite me.
I didn’t let myself consider the alternative—that thoughts of me hadn’t even crossed his mind.
“You’re under my skin, and I don’t know how to get you out. Worse, I don’t think I want to. I…I like having you there too much.”
No, this wasn’t one-sided. It never had been. It had always been the two of us.
Before I’d gone and fucked everything up.
Hindsight was everything. Now, I could easily see how wrong I’d been about everything. Hiding my plans from Ryan. Confiding about him to Max. Lying to cover my tracks.
At eighteen, I’d thought I was doing what was best. Protecting everyone I loved by working in half-truths and outright lies.
At twenty-six, I knew I’d been a fucking moron. Communication was all we’d needed.
Ryan had been right when he’d said I needed to grow up. It was what I’d been doing all these years.
That, and planning how to win him back.
I wasn’t labouring under any delusions that I could just stroll back into his life and all would be forgiven. Hell, I wasn’t even expecting him to let me explain or apologise. Iknew Ryan better than that. He might not admit it, but my Shadow had a stubborn streak that rivalled my own.
That was why I had my plan: Years of long night watches with nothing to do but plot and scheme. To go over every aspect, searching for flaws. And to save. To work hard so this time away might be worth it.
With only two years left to wait, everything was finally coming together.
A foot knocked against my own. “You’re off in your own world again.”
I looked over, and for a split second, it wasn’t my best friend staring at me, but my Shadow. The feeling faded as fast as it came, leaving behind the ever-present ache. “What?”
“Get your head screwed on, man,” Max said, swaying slightly with the movement of the Land Rover our unit had piled into. “You’re not in the departure lounge yet.”
I grunted, my hands already going to my SA80 and checking it over. Max was right. I could have the perfect plan to win Ryan back, but there was no point if I didn’t survive long enough to make it happen.
“Penny’s hardly ever here,” Raffle drawled. Not his real name, of course. We rarely used those. Hence why he called me Penny. With his relaxed posture and innocent baby-blues, you’d never believe him capable of killing multiple men in a matter of seconds. “Always off daydreaming.”
“At least he’s capable of imagination,” Taff quipped back, his Welsh lilt strong despite the years we’d spent in Iraq. “Your creativity’s so shit you can’t even manage a paint by numbers.”