8. Strike
Strike
Anew day meant it was no longer the anniversary of his friend’s death, but Strike still forced himself to focus on his breathing as he drove to Bear’s because the woman sleeping beside him was another mistake he couldn’t make right.
He focused on the box breathing technique. His chest lifted as he breathed in for four counts and then held his breath for another four. It relaxed as he breathed out for four and paused for four. He repeated the action again and envisaged following the outline of a box.
But his stomach still clenched as he considered what his therapist said about letting go of the past and how he’d punished himself enough.
What if he let someone in and couldn’t save them? His therapist had suggested that control wasn’t bad and was a useful part of his work, but it didn’t need to extend to keeping people out of his life.
And there was the other thing. Telling Millie what to do the previous night had reignited his interest in power play.
He may have only fantasised about it after reading her book recommendations, rather than acting it out with someone, but it still filled his thoughts, especially when he couldn’t control the things around him.
Millie stirred beside him. His shoulders tightened. He’d never wanted anyone but her, and she was too pure and perfect for who he was now.
Her bright pink nails caught his eye as the sun rose above the hills in the distance. She smelt of berries and vanilla, of the summer they spent camping and the two perfect weeks they’d dated until he ran away.
Longing and familiarity were dangerous. If he allowed temptation to take hold, he’d open himself to the darkness. Besides, he’d no capacity for love anymore. It was destroyed by the things he’d done.
Trust and friendship came at a price.
For ten years, he’d thought about Millie. He knew more about her than she realised. When she’d panicked that Luke might see her apps, he suspected one of her worries was about her romance book account. She wasn’t entirely anonymous on there. He’d found it.
Now she was next to him, he’d do everything to protect her. But it couldn’t go further.
He gritted his teeth. The need for control threaded through his veins, pushing his heart rate, testing his breathing.
What if she was hiding something, or someone, on her phone? The idea that someone else got to touch her, spend time with her, and hear her talk about her life made him want to swing the car into park and demand she tell him everything so he could end those men.
He took a deep breath, and her fragrance surrounded him.
He wound down the window, desperate to rid himself of the memories roaring back, breathing in the early spring morning.
The scent of fir filled his lungs. The memory of telling her his feelings under a starry sky when he was nearly nineteen was like a beast crashing through the walls he’d built to protect himself.
“It’s beautiful,” she whispered.
He glanced at her, sucking in a breath so sharp it hurt his chest.
“Yes. Fucking perfect,” he replied, his voice hitching as he spoke about her.
Tingles tickled the back of his neck as she turned, nearly catching him staring. He glanced at where a golden glow covered an emerald green landscape. Birds called to each other as gravel crunched under the tyres of his four-by-four. The world was bathed in the beauty of dawn.
“London has nothing on this place.” The lightness in her voice swirled around his heart.
The pull to know her, to ask her a billion questions while holding her close, had returned, but even though he followed her social media account and heard rumours from his parents about what she was up to, she was a stranger.
His heart was with teenage Millie.
He returned to looking at her. Her eyelashes fluttered, highlighting her beautiful brown eyes.
“Sleep okay?” Strike asked. He wanted to know why she hadn’t trained in general medicine. That had been her plan until the morning after they’d slept together. It was why he’d left.
“I guess.”
He stared at her until she spoke again. He needed her chatter.
“Will I get access to a phone? People will be suspicious if I’m absent.”
“Your parents and brother?”
Her shoulders tightened. “I have other people.”
“You can’t tell people where you are. You can’t post photos on your social media… if you have social media. I presume you do because everyone does.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Do you?”
“Not really.” He pulled on the back of his neck while mumbling, “But everyone else does.”
He focused on the blues, pinks, and yellows covering the sky like layers of different coloured silks.
It reminded him of Millie the morning after they’d lost their virginity to each other.
That had been the best day of his life until everything had gone to shit.
She’d looked like a goddess, with a golden aura that lit up everything around her, as she’d rested her head on his chest, her long blond hair with magenta streaks soft against his skin.
Out of the corner of his eye, he sensed her unease. He would die before he let her face danger again.
She pressed her palms into her legs before reaching into her pocket, pulling out a twisty fidget tool.
His lips quirked as she twisted the brightly coloured plastic tool into various shapes. “Stop staring at me. I’m not used to being awake without working or without a phone or book in my hands.”
“I have something similar.” He brushed her thigh as he reached for the glove box. It was an accident, but a sudden urge to stretch his hand around it and claim her stabbed him in the chest.
She jerked away, pressing closer to the door.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean…” He opened the glove box and revealed the same style tool, although his was green and black.
She twisted hers more frantically. “No, it’s me. I didn’t realise… Was yours army issued?”
He chuckled. “No. My army buddies bought it when they’d had enough of me tapping things in the bunk.”
“Do you miss the army?” she asked as she cleaned her glasses with the edge of her sleeve.
His shoulders hunched. “I miss my platoon, but I don’t miss being told what to do and being constantly at risk.” He gritted his teeth. “There was no control, and my existence was always about what others wanted.”
“Like what?”
He swallowed slowly, pain clouding his throat. “Just army stuff. But I made friends for life, like Stal and Nails. I have people worldwide who would do anything for me because we have this unbreakable bond.”
“That bit sounds nice.” Her sad sigh nibbled at his curiosity.
“You must have lots of people who care about you. Your mum was always protective. We’ll get you a phone so you can contact people. Your partner must be worried about you.”
They neared a well-hidden stone building nestled between the trees.
“I told you earlier I was going to a singles event. I wouldn’t do that if I had a boyfriend,” she snapped.
The tightness in his chest eased slightly. “I wanted to check.” Temptation pinched him, but if she wanted him to know what was on her phone, she’d have said, “Well, you tell whoever. Friends or people you associate with or…”
“I’ll let my family, clients, and some internet friends know. There’s no one else.”
“Noted.”
“You said you didn’t like the lack of control in the army.”
“I left to regain it.”
“From the brief time I’ve spent with you, it’s clear you consider everything. You used to be goofy and sometimes impulsive. I can’t see any of that now.”
He gripped the steering wheel as he flexed his jaw.
Within twenty-four hours of running away to join the army, he’d wanted to return, but she’d told Bear, through her brother, that she never wanted to see or hear from him again.
Before he left, he should have spoken to his parents or considered the future, but he ran, believing it was the best decision for her.
“I’ll regret how impulsive I was as a teenager for the rest of my life.”
Her eyes pinched, and he quickly added, “Anyway, I wanted to leave the army and start this business. I’d done what I set out to do when I joined up.”
“Which was get away from me. Well done for your achievements,” she replied.
“That’s not how it was,” he griped as they reached the outside of the main house.
He parked quickly and turned, but she pushed open the door and stepped out of the vehicle. His fingers brushed her arm as he reached for her, and she recoiled.
She snapped her fidget tool and shoved the remnants into her hoodie pocket.
“Don’t, Caleb.” His eyebrows lifted, and she shook her head. “I mean, Strike. Just don’t. I don’t need an explanation. You made mistakes because you were impulsive. You regretted having sex with me so much that you joined the army, leaving me alone and full of regrets.”
“Millie, I didn’t—"
Millie slammed the door loudly and turned to face Liss, who must have heard it all.