10. Chapter 9
Chapter 9
Will
I wake slowly, the world coming into focus in layers. The soft glow of the bedside lamp, the quiet hum of the TV still playing some nature documentary, and the steady rise and fall of Katie’s breathing beneath me.
Her chest is warm against my cheek, her heartbeat a soothing rhythm in my ear. For a moment, I don’t move. I let myself just be here, cocooned in this strange, unexpected intimacy.
Then I feel it—her fingers, threading gently through my hair. The sensation is so light, so careful, that it takes me a second to realise it’s deliberate. She’s stroking my hair, her touch lingering like she’s afraid to stop.
“Katie,” I mumble, my voice rough with sleep.
Her hand pauses for the briefest moment, then resumes its slow, calming motion. “You were out cold,” she says softly. “Figured it was better to let you rest.”
I shift slightly, lifting my head just enough to look at her. My body protests the movement, a dull ache radiating from my back, but I ignore it .
“You could’ve shoved me off,” I say, my lips twitching into a faint smile.
“I could’ve,” she agrees, her tone light. “But I didn’t want to wake the bear.”
“Oh, I’m a bear now?”
She smirks. “Sometimes.”
There’s something in her eyes, a softness that catches me off guard. The banter is familiar, easy, but underneath it, there’s a tension I can’t quite name.
“You didn’t have to stay,” I say quietly, my voice barely above a whisper.
Her smile fades, replaced by something gentler. “I wanted to,” she says simply.
The air between us shifts, the weight of her words settling over me. For a moment, I think about closing the distance between us, about saying all the things I’ve been too afraid to admit.
But instead, I lean back slightly, wincing as the movement pulls at my back. Katie’s hands are on me in an instant, steadying me with that same quiet care she’s shown since the day she walked back into this house.
“Easy,” she murmurs, her brow furrowing. “Let me help.”
She shifts, guiding me carefully back against the pillows. Her hands are firm but gentle, and I can feel the heat of her skin even through the thin fabric of my shirt.
Once I’m settled, she sits back, her hand lingering on my arm. Our eyes meet, and for a long moment, neither of us moves.
“Katie,” I say, my voice rough with emotion .
She doesn’t answer, but she doesn’t look away, either. Her gaze flickers to my lips, and I can feel the pull, the magnetic tension drawing us closer.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper, the words spilling out before I can stop them.
“For what?” she asks, her voice soft.
“For everything,” I say. “For making you worry. For not... for not being enough.”
Her expression shifts, her eyes softening. “You’ve always been enough,” she says quietly.
The honesty in her voice takes my breath away, and before I can think better of it, I lean in slightly. She doesn’t pull back. Instead her hand moves to my cheek, her touch light but deliberate.
When her lips meet mine, it’s soft, tentative, but it sends a jolt through me all the same. It’s not just a kiss—it’s everything we haven’t said, everything we’ve been holding back.
She pulls away just enough to rest her forehead against mine, her eyes fluttering closed. For a moment, we just breathe together, the silence thick with things unsaid.
“Goodnight, Will,” she whispers, her voice barely audible.
“Goodnight, Katie,” I reply, my heart still racing.
As she leaves the room, the warmth of her kiss lingers, filling the space she’s left behind. And for the first time in a long time, I don’t feel so alone.
The knock on the door pulls me from my light doze. I sit up carefully, my back protesting the movement, and call out, “Come in!”
The door creaks open, and Aaron steps inside. He’s wearing his usual no-nonsense expression, though the corner of his mouth quirks up in a faint smile when he sees me.
“Still in one piece, I see,” he jokes, crossing the room to pull the chair closer to the bed. “Not bad for someone who looked like roadkill two weeks ago.”
“Good to see you too, mate,” I reply dryly, shifting to make myself more comfortable. “How’s life on the outside?”
“Same as always. Paperwork, emails, and the occasional idiot who thinks he doesn’t need a risk assessment before heading into a conflict zone.” He leans back, his arms crossing over his chest. “But enough about me. How’s the bed rest treating you?”
“Riveting,” I say, gesturing to the TV remote and the pile of books Katie left on the bedside table. “I’m spoiled for entertainment.”
Aaron chuckles, but there’s a flicker of concern in his eyes as he studies me. “You look better than when I dropped you off here. Katie’s got you sorted?”
“She’s been great,” I admit, my tone softer now. “Phoebe too. They’ve made this a hell of a lot easier.”
“Good,” he says simply. “You’re lucky to have them.”
I nod, the truth of his words settling over me.
"Have you heard from Jon and Mel?" I ask. I haven’t had any contact with either of them since I was airlifted to hospital .
I’ve been through crises before. I’ve lost people. I know how to deal with it. But I’m not sure those two took it quite so easily.
Don’t get me wrong—it rips me apart thinking about Arif. But on every mission, I go in mentally prepared for things to go wrong. That helps me make sense of the aftermath. It might sound cold-hearted, but I have to be this way. Otherwise, I’d freeze up in a crisis and wouldn’t be able to do my job.
But the others don’t have the same background I do.
"They’re both back home. Unharmed, but HR is offering them counselling. Which, by the way, is also open to you," Aaron says.
"Nah, I’m good," I reply.
There’s a brief pause, then Aaron leans forward slightly, his expression shifting to something more serious. “I wanted to catch you up on a few things at the office,” he says. “We’ve got a couple of big contracts lined up. Corporate clients—one expanding into China and another into Pakistan. Both want full security planning and training for their managers. Big money, solid projects.”
I nod slowly, processing the news. “Sounds promising. You heading out to oversee them?”
“Not me,” he replies, shaking his head. “I’m done with the fieldwork, remember? Told you that when we talked last year. I’m keeping my feet firmly planted on home soil.”
I nod again, though a familiar pang settles in my chest. Aaron made that decision without hesitation, stepping back from the field once the company was stable enough to thrive. I kept going, mission after mission, as if I didn’t know how to stop.
“You thinking of going?” he asks, raising an eyebrow .
“I don’t know,” I admit, the words heavier than I expect. “I’ve been wondering... maybe it’s time to stop as well.”
Aaron studies me for a moment. “What brought this on?”
“Everything,” I say finally, my voice quieter. “This injury, being here... Katie, Phoebe. It’s like I’ve finally had time to think, and I’m not sure if what I’ve been doing is worth it anymore. Or if it ever was.”
Aaron doesn’t respond right away. Instead, he leans back in the chair, his expression thoughtful. “You know,” he says, “when I stopped doing fieldwork, I had the same doubts. Wondered if I was just copping out, letting the business side take over because it was easier than staying in the thick of it.”
“You’ve got the degree, though,” I point out. “You’re the one who knows how to run the business side. I’m just—”
“A soldier?” Aaron interrupts, raising an eyebrow. “Don’t sell yourself short, Will. You’re more than capable of running things from here. Hell, most of our clients request you by name. You’re the face of this company as much as I am.”
“Maybe,” I mutter, sceptical.
“There’s no maybe about it,” he says firmly. “You’ve got the experience, the contacts, the reputation. And if you’re ready to stop going on trips, we can make it work. Hire more freelancers, let you handle the logistics and training from here.”
I glance at him, his words stirring something deep inside me. “You really think that would work?”
“I know it would,” he says. “You’re already a natural at the training sessions. And if we expand into crisis management support—which we’ve talked about before—you’d be running the show. You’ve lived through more crises than most people could even imagine.”
I let out a faint laugh, though there’s no humour in it. “I don’t know, Aaron. It feels... different.”
“Because it is,” he says simply. “But that doesn’t mean it’s wrong. You’ve been carrying this company on your back for years. Maybe it’s time to let it carry you for a while.”
“I’ll think about it,” I reply… and I will. I haven’t thought about much else for the last few days.
“Good,” he replies, standing and clapping me lightly on the shoulder. “But don’t take too long, mate. We’ve got plans to make if you decide to go for it.”
“Will do. Don’t say anything to Katie, though,” I plead.
“I won’t. This is a conversation for you two to have.”
As he heads for the door, I feel a flicker of something I haven’t felt in a long time. Maybe it’s hope. Maybe it’s the start of something new.
Whatever it is, it feels like a step in the right direction.