I watch Bridget eat her poached eggs on toast. “You’re really not eating?” she asks.

“I’m not hungry,” I reply as I sip my coffee.

We are in a small restaurant that sits a few blocks away from our hotel.

“So, this is the job you’ve been so secretive about?”

“Yes.” I sip my coffee again and put my hand up for another cup.

“How long have you been doing this?” she asks.

“Six years.”

“How many people have you killed?”

My eyes hold hers. “Too many to count,” I reply, monotone.

Her face falls and she drops her head.

“It’s okay, Bridget.” I roll my lips as I force the words from my mouth.

She frowns as her eyes rise to meet mine. “What’s okay?”

I shrug and sip my coffee. “I understand that you don’t understand.”

“Do you?” She frowns.

“I don’t expect you to.”

She narrows her eyes as she watches me. “You said you loved me last night.”

I bite my bottom lip and drop my eyes to the table.

“Look at me,” she demands.

I drag my eyes to hers.

“Well?”

“I do love you,” I murmur.

“Why do you only tell me that you love me when something bad is happening?”

I frown.

“The first time you told me you loved me was when you were leaving me.”

I swallow the sand-like feeling in my throat.

“Last night, you told me because you thought I was leaving you.”

I sip my coffee.

“Ben?”

I exhale. “What do you want me to say, Didge? Meet me in the Mickey Mouse Clubhouse for board games?” I shake my head in disgust. “I’ve told you before… I’m not wired the way you are.”

Her eyes hold mine. “That wasn’t what I asked. Although, while you continue to act like Goofy, I will meet you in the Mickey Mouse Clubhouse to strangle you.”

I sip my coffee again.

“Why don’t you tell me you love me when you make love to me, or when we have happy times?” she asks.

I scowl. “What the fuck are you on about? Who cares when I tell you I love you?”

“I do, Ben.”

I roll my eyes. “It doesn’t matter anymore, anyway,” I mutter under my breath.

“Why doesn’t it?”

I shrug. “You know why. Last night was the beginning of the end for us.”

She shakes her head subtly. “Was it? ” She flicks her hair angrily over her shoulder. “Why do you say that?”

“You can’t live with someone like me.” I raise an eyebrow sarcastically. “Your words, not mine,” I add.

“I was in shock, Ben.”

I sit forward in my seat. “Fucking bullshit. You knew what I did. You pretended that you didn’t know, and whether you did it unconsciously or not, all the facts were there. I told you that I had a past and that I didn’t want you involved in it.”

She folds her arms in front of her. “Oh. So all this is my fault now?” she sneers. “You’ve got a fucking hide. You told me you were a soldier.”

“I am a fucking soldier,” I growl.

She leans in. “You are a glorified assassin.”

I sit back, smile, and with a shake of my head, I hold my hand out. “And there it is.”

Her face falls.

“That’s what you’re going to be throwing in my face for the rest of my life,” I reply.

Her eyes hold mine.

I sit forward in my chair. “You listen here, Bridget, and you listen good. I have no regrets for what I’ve done. None. I work for the United Nations Intelligence and I look after national security, and if you can’t live with what I am—with what I have done—then you should leave now.”

She chews her bottom lip as she considers what I have just said. “You said you left the army.”

“I did. You know I did. The last thing I would ever do would be to put you in danger like you were last night.”

“You… you could have died,” she stammers.

“So, I die. That is my job. You don’t interfere.”

Her face falls. “Your life is more valuable to me than national security, Ben. I don’t give a fuck about national security if it takes you away from me,” she whispers angrily.

I drop my head and frown. “Bridget…” I sigh. “I’m wired differently. My personal needs don’t come into this. Any serviceman who defends his country doesn’t get to have personal needs. We band together for the greater good. Nobody ever wants to leave their families to go defend and fight, but we do what we have to do.”

Her eyes fill with tears. She frowns as she grabs my hand over the table. “I want you to fight for me.”

I pull my hand from her grip. “Do you? Do you really? Think long and hard about that, Didge.”

She watches me, as if not understanding.

“I have a specialised skill set, Bridget. I’m a sniper. If needed again I may have to go back, and I would need to know that you would be with me on this. I’d need to know I could kiss you goodbye and know you were proud of me and of what I’m doing. Could you honestly do that?”

She stares at me blankly.

I smile sadly. And there is my painful answer. I exhale heavily. “I don’t expect you to understand. Not everyone can be with a serviceman.”

“Why are you turning this back on me now?” she asks.

“Because I want you safe. Because I don’t know what the fuck is going on in Washington at the moment, and I have to go back there and find out.”

“What are you saying? You want me to leave you so that I’m safe?”

My eyes hold hers. “Yes. That’s exactly what I’m saying.”

She shakes her head. “You may be brave on the battlefield, Ben, but you’re a goddamn coward when it comes to me.”

I glare at her.

“You said you left and that you wanted a normal life,” she snaps. “Did you or did you not?”

“Did,” I snap.

“Was this in your plan?”

I narrow my eyes. “You know it wasn’t.”

“Do you love me or not?”

I shake my head. “That’s a stupid fucking question.”

“This is black and white. You either go back and find out what the hell is going on and then come home to me, or you leave and go back permanently,” she snaps.

I narrow my eyes. “That’s not black and white. This is the black and white facts of it, Didge,” I snap as I begin to lose my patience. “You are either an army wife who fully supports the UNI, or you’re not.”

She sits back and folds her arms in front of her. “And if I am?”

“Then you come to Washington with me, so I can sort out this mess.”

She narrows her eyes. “And if I’m not?”

“Then you go home and forget all about me, because I can’t live a life with someone who’s not on the same page as me. I am who I am. I can’t change my past. I don’t want to.”

“But if you’re leaving the army anyway…” she murmurs.

I cut her off. “If you’re not with me on this, you’re going to bring this shit up every time we fight. You know you will.”

She rolls her eyes.

“I’m going back to the room,” I tell her.

Her face falls.

“I’m leaving for Washington in four hours. You take your time and think what you really want from a man.” My eyes search hers. “If it’s a wholesome jock, then you’re with the wrong guy. I’m not him.” I shrug my shoulders sadly.

She rolls her eyes.

“It’s all or nothing, Bridget. Take all of me or none of me. I’m not ashamed of who I am.”

I push out my chair and throw my napkin onto the table.

She looks around the restaurant. “Am I even safe to be here alone?”

“The men from last night are on a plane to America. Do you really think I would have brought you out if I knew you weren’t safe?”

She puts her head into her hands. “I have no fucking idea what’s going on here, Ben. I didn’t expect to wake up on the movie set of American fucking Sniper. This shit’s only meant to be on cable.”

A smile spreads across my face. There she is. My snarky wench. I watch her for a moment and then I bend to kiss her lips. “I do love you, Bridget,” I whisper. “More than anything, and I know I don’t say it often enough.” My eyes search hers. “I’m working on it. I’m working on being the person you deserve.”

She puts her arms around my neck. “Tell me this is going to be all right.”

I bury my face into her neck as I hold her in my arms. “I don’t know that it will be, babe.”

“Ben.” She sighs sadly. “Don’t say that.”

“Take your time and think about it, Didge. I won’t hold any hard feelings against you if you walk away. I’ll completely understand, but this is a decision that only you can make.”

“What if I hadn’t found out about this?” she whispers.

I shake my head. “Then I would have always had a secret from you. I’m glad it happened, to be honest. Now you know. This is me. This is all of me.”

She drops her head into her hands.

“See you in a few hours.” I sigh. “Or not.” My heart constricts and I just want to drop to my knees and beg. I drop my head, squeezing her shoulder as I brush past her and walk out of the restaurant.

I won’t look back. Don’t look back.

I stare at the clock in the silence of the room.

Four hours have passed. Four long, silent hours.

Bridget hasn’t come back.

I stand and stare through the window, looking down at the street below.

I blow out a deflated breath. Of course it was too much for her to handle.

It’s okay, it will be okay. I try to calm myself. I’ve been through worse times than this.

It’s just a relationship breakdown, I remind myself. Millions of people deal with this shit every day.

So, then, why does it feel like the world is about to end?

My chest constricts as the walls begin to close in around me.

I close my eyes as I try to regain some composure. I don’t know why I let myself fall in love with her. On some level, I always knew it was going to end badly. I get a vision of her laughing and smiling up at me from bed, and then I get a sick, empty feeling deep inside. I’ll never see her like that again.

Fuck…

I need to get out of here before I lose my shit.

I exhale heavily as I pick up my suitcase. Should I just stay and beg?

No.

She will never accept what I’ve done.

Move on.

I fold her clothes that were on the chair, and then, unable to help it, I lift her shirt and inhale deeply.

Bridget’s smell.

I close my eyes, in pain.

Fucking snap out of it. I fold her clothes neatly and place them in her bag. With one last look around the room, I make my way out into the corridor and ride the elevator to the lobby. I look around sadly.

She’s not here. Stop looking for her.

With renewed determination I walk out the front, hail a cab, and get into the back of it.

I don’t remember much about the trip, but it only seems like five seconds later when I arrive at the airport and make my way to the desk.

“One one-way ticket to Washington, please,” I say.

The check-in/ticket assistant does a double take and smiles sympathetically. Do I look as sad as I feel?

“Sure,” she replies. “I only have a seat on a flight in two hours; it’s in business class. You will fly into Heathrow and get a connecting flight from there tonight. Will that be all right, sir?”

“Whatever.” I sigh, uninterested. They can strap me to the fucking wing for all I care.

I pay for my ticket, pass through security, make my way to the lounge, and take a seat at the bar.

“Hello.” The friendly bartender smiles.

“I’ll have a scotch, please.” I sigh. “Keep them coming.”

The cab pulls up in front of my apartment block in Washington, and I look out onto the street. It feels like it took forever to get home, and now that I’m finally here I don’t want to be.

Actually, I don’t want to be anywhere but in Australia with Bridget, starting a new life with her… for her.

The driver retrieves my suitcase from the trunk, and I frown as I run the backs of my fingers over my two-day growth. I need to get a hold of myself.

Just get out of the car.

I watch him drive away slowly.

One step in front of the other… do it.

I take the elevator. My mind is a jumbled mess, and foggy.

I unlock the door and look around the sparse apartment before I walk in and throw my bag down, exhaling heavily.

I look back out into the corridor and consider going straight to a bar… or doing anything that doesn’t involve being here alone. I feel claustrophobic and I know I need to calm myself down, so I go to the bar and pour myself a scotch.

I walk into my kitchen and rustle around for some sleeping pills.

I just can’t deal with this fucking day any longer.

I’m gutted, weak, and I’m fucking furious beyond anything I’ve ever felt before. Whoever set this up had better fucking run because when I get a hold of them, they will beg me to kill them.

I get an image of her face as she told me she could never love someone who does what I do, and regret hits me hard in the gut. She didn’t need to know any of this, and even though I wanted to tell her, I knew she wouldn’t feel the same about me once she did.

It’s been days since I’ve slept, even though I tried to on the plane. But how do you get yourself into a relaxed state when it feels like you can’t breathe? I pop three sleeping tablets out of the bottle, throw them into my mouth, and drain the scotch in my glass in one gulp as I prepare myself for my next phone call. The one to Brock.

I dial his number and he answers first ring. “Hey, man.”

I put my hand on my hip. “Have you spoken to Bridget?” I ask.

“No. Why?”

“Can you check on her?” I clench my jaw as I imagine her being sad and alone.

“Why?” he asks way too quickly.

“She knows…” I pause. “She knows everything.”

He stays silent.

“She left me.”

“Fuck, man.” He pauses. “I’m sorry.”

I drop my head as I frown. “Not as sorry as I am.”

He exhales heavily down the phone.

I walk over and pull back the curtains to peer out onto the street below. “Just make sure she’s safe. She was in Prague. I’m not sure if she’s gone on her tour of Scotland, or where she’s heading,” I continue.

“Okay, I’ll let you know.”

I frown as I force the next words from my lips. “Yeah… don’t. I’m cutting all ties. That’s it this time.”

“Mate, you know she’s just angry.”

I clench my jaw as pain lances through my chest. I hesitate. “She’s too good for me, she’s always been too good for me. We both know that. Just…” I sigh. “Just look after her for me, please.” I have to get off the phone. I can’t fucking stand it.

“You okay, mate?” he asks softly.

I don’t answer because, in all honesty, I just don’t know.

“See you later,” I reply.

“I’ll call you tomorrow, man.”

I hang up and type out a text.

I type in the names of my closest friends and hit send.

A text bounces back from Brock.

I frown as I imagine her arriving at the airport alone, and my chest constricts. I get in the shower and stand under the hot water as I inhale deeply to try and calm myself down.

I haven’t been this low since the night my mother died.

This is a dark day.

“Go!” he yells.

I hit hard and fast, and the sound of my boxing gloves connecting with the pads echoes all around.

I’m dripping wet with perspiration, the gym my only solace.

For two minutes I hit as hard as I can until I can punch no more.

“Well, look what the cat dragged in.”

I glance up, panting heavily, and then smirk. It’s Thomo, one of my closest friends.

“Where the fuck have you been?” he asks.

I shake my head and nod to my trainer, signalling for a break.

“That’s enough for today, Buzz; you’ll fucking kill me if I have to block your hits any longer,” the trainer replies as he removes his pads.

“Thanks—see you tomorrow,” I pant. Poor bastard. I’ve been kicking his ass all week.

“See you.” He walks away.

I pick up my water bottle and drink.

“Where have you been?” Thomo asks. “You send us that fucking text and then you go offline for ten days.”

“I just got back last night,” I lie. The truth is that I wasn’t in the mood for any company.

I take a seat on a weight bench as I try to catch my breath.

“What happened?” he asks.

“I don’t know.” I shrug. “Hey, I got a visit in Australia from two agents saying I had one last job to do in Prague.”

He frowns as he listens.

“So, I went, but unbeknownst to me, it wasn’t a scheduled job.” I’m still struggling to catch my breath as I speak. “They were working alone and had tampered with the hired car. They wanted me dead after I did their instructed hit.”

He frowns as he goes over what I’ve just told him. “Does head office know this?”

I nod. “They’re trying to track them, but they haven’t been seen since. I’ve no fucking idea what’s going on or who hired the hit.”

“Fucking hell.” He bites his thumbnail as he thinks. “We need to get the guys together.”

I drain my water bottle and nod. “Yeah.”

“I fly out tonight for a wedding tomorrow but I’m back on Sunday. Let’s meet at Jack’s Bar at five.”

I nod and glance at my watch. “Yeah, okay. See you then.”

He starts his training session and I shower. I’m walking to my car when my phone rings. It’s Brock.

“Hey.” I smile. I’ve missed this stupid fuck.

“Hey, mate. You called? Sorry I couldn’t answer, I had a mouth full of muff.”

I chuckle as I get a vision of him going down on some chick. “Yeah, that’s way too much information.” I wince.

He laughs. “Tasted too good to answer the phone, that’s for sure.”

I laugh. Fucking hell. “Can you do me a favour?” I ask.

“Sure.”

“My car is in the long stay parking at Sydney Airport. Can you get someone to go and get it?”

“Ah, okay.” He thinks for a moment. “Do you just want it back at your place?”

I frown as I think. “Um—”

“When are you coming home?” he interrupts.

“I’m not,” I reply as I walk through the parking lot and hold the keys up, unlocking my car as it comes into view.

He stays silent for a moment. “Bridget’s struggling, mate.”

I stop, mid-step.

“She hasn’t left the house. She’s over there, crying and shit. The girls are all fussing over her and trying to fix her.”

I stare at the concrete under my feet and clench my jaw.

I should never have gone back for her. I stay silent as I listen.

“Did you hear me? She’s fucking devo over here. What are you going to do about it?” he growls, annoyed.

“Tell her to go back to Eric,” I reply flatly. “He’s the kind of man she needs.”

“What?” he snaps. “Are you fucking for real? You’re just giving up on her? You’re going to walk away just like that?”

I roll my eyes as my anger starts to throb. Does he think I want this?

“She left me. She gave up on me,” I sneer.

“She loves you—”

“Not enough,” I cut him off. “I’ve got to go. Sort the car and bill me.”

“You’re fucked,” he snaps.

I shake my head in disgust and end the call before I say something I’ll regret.

I’m fucked? I’m fucked? My blood boils. He’s got no fucking idea. I would have done anything for her.

I can’t change my past…

If I could, I would.

In a heartbeat, I would do anything to hold her.

I open my car door and throw my bag into the back seat with force. I sit in the car and grip the steering wheel as I imagine my beautiful Bridget crying with a broken heart because of me. I close my eyes as the pain takes over.

He’s right.

I am fucked.

The ugly taste of guilt begins to seep into my bloodstream like poison. I can physically taste it.

I turn the car on and fly out of the parking lot, heading onto the highway at speed.

Maybe if I drive fast enough I can escape this feeling.

If only.