At Her SEAL's Command (SEALs of Roseville, Book One) by Selena Blake Page A

as you need.”
    Their coffee arrived and the discussion moved to safer topics: Falcons football, traffic, and the summer heat. Dylan kept an eye on the door, watching Joe's back the whole time. Because that's how they were built, it's how they'd been trained; it's how they'd stayed alive.
    It would take longer than a few months, hell, a few years, to change that watchfulness. But he had to admit he'd rather be sitting in Roseville drinking coffee, watching the door than in a jungle or a desert waiting to be ambushed.

    D ylan knew he was fucked up in the head. He wanted to go to Reya, needed to, but first there were things he needed to sort out in his own mind. Which is how he'd arrived at the gun range.
    The range wasn’t anything like he was used to but there were targets to shoot and that’s what he needed. The long trusted routine would sharpen his focus and center his mind.
    There was something about looking down the sites of a gun that put him back on an even keel. Perhaps it was because shooting a target was a lot like math. There was right and wrong. You either hit your opponent or you missed. Sure, you could hit a leg versus a torso or chest versus head, but a bullet was a bullet. Unlike feelings and life where things were murky and the past often came back to haunt him.
    Unlike relationships where he wasn’t sure where to step.
    Perhaps it'd been silly to think he could just come out of an intense and often violent career and rejoin the life he'd left behind. Just because he didn't have nightmares or flashbacks didn't mean he was whole.
    Indecision ate at him like a flesh eating bacteria. He was used to making split second, life-or-death decisions. The SEALs had trained him thoroughly, almost to the point where he felt like a machine. But none of the schools had taught him how to live life after the SEALs, how to move on or fall in love.
    Grandma Mabel’s voice flitted through his mind. Tighten your shoelaces and get moving.
    Was it really that simple? What about his demons? What about his fears?
    You’ve got two options. Fear or love. You’ve gotta pick one, son.
    Mabel was right of course. She’d always been right. But then, she’d had more courage and conviction than most of the men he’d worked with.
    Half an hour and countless bullets later, he felt marginally focused. But he missed the camaraderie of the Team around him. There was no one to rag on for missing a target, no one to pat him on the back for hitting a 10.
    His Team would always be his family, no matter how far or wide they were spread. Joe had managed to find himself a new family with Baby and Trevor. Along with that came Baby’s friends and the rest of the Fairchilds and Wyatts.
    Dylan could do the same: rebuild, develop new friendships. It was time to stop moping over what he’d lost and concentrate on what he had.
    After cleaning and putting away his gear, he went to the club. Carlos seemed surprised to see Dylan on the doorstep. After their discussion a few days ago, Dylan couldn’t blame him. Although he’d said all he really needed to the other day, he and Carlos had been friends for a long time. And he’d already lost too many friends.
    “Come on in.” It was nice that even though he’d turned down Carlos’s request, he didn’t hesitate to welcome Dylan. Nor did he pressure him with any expectations about why Dylan was there.
    He followed Carlos down the back hallway into the main room and slid across a bench seat in one of the corner booths. The place was currently quiet, save for the bartender who was getting ready for the night.
    “So what's up?” Carlos asked in that cool, debonair way of his. Even as kids, he'd been more sophisticated than the other kids on the block. His inky black hair was swept back with some product and perfectly groomed. The spotless black, leather shoes would have made any drill sergeant proud.
    “I wanted to make sure you know I value our friendship—”
    “I do—”
    “And that my