Navy SEAL Surrender. Angi Morgan

out of order.

      If John was being honest—no sense lying to himself—he hadn’t been the most dependable brother. Or the most communicative. Since they’d learned to open their mouths, Brian had been the twin to tell the world what they needed. Brian had been the responsible one keeping him out of trouble, right up to his last words to him, “Leave and never look back.”

      That was exactly what he’d done.

      John had followed through on his promise, joined the navy, left the ranch and had never come back.

      In the navy, he wasn’t Brian’s twin or Johnny Junior or the baby. He’d quickly risen to chief petty officer and was the man you went to with a problem. He was the guy who got things done. Action, not words.

      Then things changed. Promotions after online classes and a college degree. Instead of solving the problems, he followed orders. Now a lieutenant, he was the man responsible if someone got shot. A man who’d been doing too much thinking recently.

      Texas? California? Navy? Private sector? Which road should just simple John choose? Too much thinking.... Right now he would help his dad, work the horses and maybe—just maybe—reconnect with his brother. That was the mission.

      Deciding his future could wait.

      His hometown was just ahead, and suddenly he didn’t feel so confident. Since that short good riddance right after graduation, he hadn’t seen or spoken to Brian. John hadn’t seen his father in almost three years. How would the town see him now? Who would he be after twelve years? The man he’d become, or the kid the town remembered?

      Aubrey looked like a busy small town instead of the bus-stop intersection with one red light he’d left. Lots of changes, and yet the most familiar thing in the world to him. He knew what stool old man Searcy would be sitting on for his lunch at the café, and he knew who would be serving him his blue-plate special. His stomach growled, emphasizing his lack of lunch. Another ten minutes and he’d be home.

      Home.

      The word felt good. He’d stay, help his dad around the ranch, work with his back instead of a weapon. He’d welcome every minute of mind-numbing grunt labor. And somehow he’d figure out what to do with the rest of his life.

      He raised a finger off the steering wheel, acknowledging those driving past. A friendly custom in north Texas, like tipping your hat. Or at least it used to be. People stared at him and quickly looked away when he caught their eye. He drove through his little town, now full of fast-food restaurants and an outdoor mini shopping mall. He turned off the main road, took the familiar turns and passed the mailbox—faded with one of the letters missing from his father’s name.

      Parked on the side of the driveway was a cherry-red Camaro. A car he knew inside and out. The car had always hummed perfection. Mark Miller had won many drag races with that engine. When Mark had left for the army, John had tried to buy it from Mr. Miller many times. He slowed as the driver—obviously waiting on him—opened the door of the car he’d wanted throughout his teenage years. His tires crunched on the gravel as he pulled to a stop.

      “Wow.” The word slipped from his brain to his mouth.

      “You still haven’t gotten over this car?” the woman said, caressing the hood with long strokes.

      Thankfully, she thought he was gawking at the muscle car. The vehicle was a nice backdrop to the curvy medium-height babe with long wavy dark brown hair and eyes hidden behind aviator shades. Dressed in old worn jeans that hugged her hips and a tank top that hugged everything else, he couldn’t focus on the car if he wanted to.

      And he really didn’t want to. If he had air-conditioning, he would have cranked it to high. Instead, the sweat beaded on his forehead. He grabbed the button-up shirt he’d tossed on the seat next to him to wipe his face.

      “Driving with the windows down? Braving the Texas heat, Johnny? You forget how hot it gets here in July?” the babe asked, crossing the road in worn boots. She slid her glasses to the top of her head, tucking her hair back in the process. Bright smiling eyes laughed at him.

      “Alicia?” He recognized her voice, but none of the curves she currently sported.

      “Welcome home.” She leaned on the open window, giving him a great view straight between her breasts. A much better view than he’d ever seen in high school.

      “How did you know I’d be here?”

      “I was already at the house. Wanda thought she saw Brian in a new car and sent a text asking if he’d come into some cash.” She shrugged her bare, tanned shoulders. “I knew Brian was in the barn. So I assumed and waited.” She stepped back, pulling the door open. “Get out here so I can give you a proper welcome home. It’s been a while.”

      Alicia Miller, now Adams. Or had she gone back to Miller after her husband had died? Either way, he barely recognized his high school sweetheart. She’d definitely filled out in all the right places. He popped the seat-belt release and stood, towering over her in a white undershirt that probably smelled as bad as the horse stalls. She wrapped her arms around his middle and squeezed. He hugged her back.

      Home.

      They separated, and the pearly-white smile he expected was gone. He missed her hand swinging upward, until it connected with his cheek. Connected hard. He rubbed it, not ashamed to let her know the slap had stung. Caught off guard by a girl. Or maybe he deserved it. Time enough to contemplate later.

      A fitting welcome home.

      “Before you ask, that was for your dad. J.W. will never say or do anything to make you feel ashamed, but you deserve that and more for just leaving. It broke his heart.”

      The little fireball choked on the last word. But she was right. And he was grown enough now to admit he’d made a mistake by not calling more often. “You’ve seen him? Is he okay?”

      “He gets stronger every day. I’m his nurse and help him with physical therapy. That’s what I do, at-home nursing.”

      “Just for the record, that’s the one and only time you’ll slap me and get away with it.” He leaned against the rear door, crossing his arms to keep them in check. He didn’t know if he wanted to drive away or reach out and pull her back to fill the emptiness he suddenly experienced.

      “Are you okay? I didn’t mean to hurt you. I’m not even sure why I did that. I never do that. And now I’m just babbling.”

      “Really?” Had it been too long to tease her? She’d been a junior in college the last time he’d heard anything. Their lives had changed when he hadn’t chosen that route. Really changed when Brian had taken the blame for the accident. They hadn’t spoken since his twin had accused him of being irresponsible and leaving a campfire burning.

      After boot camp, his dad said Brian had decided not to attend college. Brian’s taking public blame for the fire meant John could achieve his dream of entering the navy. It wouldn’t have happened otherwise, and he owed his brother his entire career.

      Join the navy. See the world.

      It had been his dream, and his brother had pushed him toward it, sacrificing everything to let him keep it. That was the problem. The closest people to him had believed the accusation.

      “I should be...” She gestured toward her car. “Your father’s waiting.”

      “You said Brian was in the barn?”

      “He was earlier.” Alicia stuck her hands into her front pockets, creating a shrug whether she wanted one or not. “Sorry I slapped you, Johnny.”

      “I’m sorry you needed to.” He rubbed his cheek again, scraping the three days of growth.

      Alicia took a step toward him, awkwardly pulled him down for what he thought was another hug. He didn’t reach for her. Instead, supersoft fingers caressed him from the bottom of his ears down both lines of his jaws. The sting disappeared faster than a radar blip.

      Before