Run To You

different than it had been when they’d just fooled around. It lingered a fraction longer as if he didn’t want to stop. He’d made love to her, but he never told her he loved her. Not even when she curled against him and felt his soft kiss on her shoulder as she fell asleep.
    B eau sat on the couch in his black boxers and listened to the voice on the other end of his phone. He stared at his bare toes and said, “I thought you might talk to Blake before I confront him.”
    “What makes you think he’ll listen to me?” his father asked.
    “I don’t know that he will, but he needs to talk to someone.” God knew he’d tried, but Blake wasn’t listening to him these days.
    “The guys get benefits and career counseling months before separation from the teams.”
    “He needs more than a job.” All branches offered spec ops counseling before separation, but some guys needed more. “He’s drinking himself to death.”
    “Nah . . . He’s just finding his land legs. He’s a SEAL. He’s faced worse than life as a civie.”
    “I think he might have PTSD.” Beau had hired some vets with PTSD. Worked around some of their issues and knew some of the signs.
    “Bullshit! He’s a goddamn SEAL sniper with eighty confirmed kills. Not many men have more than your brother.”
    And they were all aware that Beau had seventy-two. “It wasn’t a competition.” Not between him and his twin. Every kill shot saved the lives of U.S. and coalition military personnel as well as innocent civilians. They’d both done their job, but they hadn’t been in competition about the targets they’d removed. “I’m not asking you to agree with me or admit that Blake might need the kind of help he isn’t getting from a bottle.”
    “He’ll work it out.” William Junger had never suffered from post-traumatic stress, therefore it was a weak man’s excuse. Beau’s own transition from the military had been fairly smooth, but that didn’t mean his brother didn’t have issues. They had identical DNA, but different fingerprints. They were two different men. “You can’t expect a Rottweiler to act like a poodle.”
    Beau hung his head. He didn’t know why he’d called the old man thinking he might be of some help. Maybe because he could use a bit of help. Something he hated to admit, even to himself. From “womb to tomb” was more than just something the brothers said to each other. It was their bond created at conception. In good times and bad. A responsibility that lived in their shared souls. Sometimes difficult, but doing the right thing wasn’t always easy.
    Beau got off the phone with his father and made some calls to a few men he knew in the Veterans Administration. Tension pulled at the back of his neck and tightened his skull. He glanced at his watch and rolled his head from side to side. It was eight A.M. , and by the time he got off the phone, a dull ache pulled at the center of his forehead. The master bedroom door opened and he turned as Stella stepped into the hall wearing her blue shirt, little shorts, and boots. Her damp hair curled under her left breast.
    Stella. He couldn’t let himself get sidetracked by the smile on her lips. Lost in the scent of her throat. Not like every other time she was near. Not like the time he kissed her in the pool and casino. Or when he’d stood on a balcony in New Orleans or last night, when they’d made love, knowing what that meant to her. He could have tried to stop her. Before it had been too late, but he hadn’t, knowing what that meant to him. Knowing what he had to do now.
    “I used your toothbrush. Considering where you’ve had your mouth, I didn’t think you’d mind.”
    He could feel her sucking him in, with her smile and blue eyes, and he took a step back. Both physically and mentally. He liked Stella. She was funny and smart and beautiful. “I don’t mind.” He rubbed his forehead and tossed his phone on the couch and he wished like hell he’d pulled on his pants. He hadn’t meant to have this serious conversation in his boxers. “Last night changed everything.”
    She agreed. She stopped in front of him and folded her arms beneath her breasts. She loved him and that changed everything. Like Colbie Caillat, Beau gave her feelings that she adored. Tingles that started at her toes and bubbled upward to her stomach and heart. He looked all buff and airbrushed this morning in his boxers. All tight skin and hard muscles, and she was a little sorry