‘In a book about this place,’ he continued, with deliberate nonchalance. ‘I like to do that when I go somewhere new. It’s good to learn new things.’
An echo of something she’d once said to him as kids, he wondered if she remembered it.
‘Yes,’ she managed quietly, telling him that she did remember. ‘I know.’
‘Some things don’t change, Matz.’
She looked at him and paused before answering.
‘And some things do. It isn’t always easy to see which it is. Or if it’s for the best.’
‘Sometimes it’s better to just let your gut tell you.’
‘So, what does your gut tell you, Kane?’
He shrugged, not answering for a moment. Another time he might have offered a dismissive quip. This time he didn’t want to.
‘I don’t know,’ he admitted at last. ‘That’s why I’m out here, running. Trying to clear my head.’
She eyed him again, but this time her gaze was softer. He thought it might be his undoing.
‘I thought you were going to just say, My gut’s telling me I’m hungry. Or some other clever remark.’
‘I considered it,’ he answered wryly. ‘I opted against clever remarks, for the truth.’
She bobbed her head but didn’t answer. They were all alone out here, no one was round. No one could even see them. For a moment he wanted to just grab her, kiss her and tell her everything was going to be okay.
But it wasn’t. Because nothing had changed.
Except for the fact that he could no longer pretend he was over her.
‘We get such odd periods through a day in this place.’ Her soft voice broke through his thoughts. He realised she was trying to keep the topic light. Or, at least, not intimate. He welcomed it. ‘Sometimes there’s so much downtime you think you’re going crazy, and other times it’s so completely full on that you think you must already have gone crazy.
‘That’s life in the army.’ He forced a laugh. ‘I remember your father always used to say it, too. I’m so sorry about the Alzheimer’s.’
And about the fact that she didn’t know that it had been her father who had helped him to get into the army in the first instance. Yet she couldn’t know. He’d already told her as much as he dared, and if there was a little shame involved on his part, well, that was his issue to deal with.
It was bad enough that he’d had to drag her father into his family’s problems back then. He hated that pretty much thirty-five years on this earth still hadn’t been long enough for him to work out a way to finally get away from the destructive impact his shameful family had on anyone around them.
Including himself.
Although the worst of it was that his actions that night had been of his own making. If he’d just called the police...
Even now he could hear it all. The shouts. The shots. The way the tyres had screeched in the night.
It was only when he felt a hand grabbing at his arm that he realised he’d been accelerating harder and harder, and now he could feel his breath ragged and painful in his chest.
It was almost welcome.
‘Slow down,’ Mattie grumbled. ‘It’s a training run, not a race.’
Abruptly, he slowed then stopped, fighting to regain his breathing as she bent over, her hands braced against her knees, her words choppy.
‘What was all that about?’
‘Sorry,’ he managed curtly, steeling himself.
He didn’t want all his doubts and regrets to be plastered all over his face when she eventually looked up again.