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basis. I tell ya, once we do a few weddings and the word spreads, we’ll be so far into the black we’ll need a flashlight to find our way home at night.”
    Weddings. Yeah, that’s just what they needed to do withtheir business, cater weddings for the rich and entitled. Which meant spending more money on more expensive products and hiring more people. The thought made Niall’s headache ratchet up twelve notches.
    â€œAnd it’s only the beginning of June.” Ross, oblivious to the ache burning in Niall’s skull, kept right on scheming. “I swear, next weekend’s wedding is just the beginning. It’s not high society but the bride runs April’s Flowers. We make her happy, she’ll spread the word, and business will explode so fast we’ll have to hire an accountant to come in every week to keep up with all the money we’ll be raking in.”
    That boy always had a boatload of self-esteem and an arsenal of harebrained schemes.
    â€œAbout that.” Niall blanked the screen and pushed to his feet. “Ross, don’t you think we might want to wait? Start the catering side of the business after we’re a little more settled here.”
    Ross’s smile dimmed briefly, then he shrugged. “Nope, we need this, Bro. Besides, we can’t back out now. I’ve already signed the contract.”
    Something else the boy had done before Niall had made it back to Tidewater.
    Ross wasn’t actually a boy. Technically, he was old enough to legally drink. Even had a degree from culinary school. Still, Niall had a difficult time seeing him as a responsible adult and not just because Ross refused to get a decent haircut.
    Perhaps it was because they’d spent the last ten years apart. Since Niall had joined the Marines at eighteen, he hadn’t seen much of his brother. Ross, who’d been twelve at the time Niall left, spent much of his life more or less like an only child. And acted the part of the stereotype. Impulsive, careless, and sometimes downright thoughtless.
    â€œRelax, Bro. I got this.” Ross clapped Niall on the shoulder, then leaned across him to grab an apple from the basket next to the computer. He crowded too close to Niall in the cramped office.
    The hair on Niall’s neck rose as if trying to widen hispersonal space. It didn’t work. His heart raced. The walls in the cluttered office shrank. The shelves were suddenly too large. The room dimmed. And God, it was fucking hot. An oven. The tiny space that had once been his office melted away.
    Gone was the office and the apple and his brother.
    The air grew redolent with the stench of blood and death. Niall was back in Kandahar. Trapped beneath Ignacio and Danny. The two bastards who’d only wanted waffles that morning. They’d stood between Niall and the wall when the insurgents had blown it apart.
    Niall shoved to his feet so fast he knocked over his stool. He didn’t care.
    Christ, he needed air.
    Moving to the doorway, he hovered between the office and the kitchen. Not in either room but in both. Two exits, twice as much freedom. And no one buried and dying on top of him beneath the rubble.
    Sweat trickled down his temples. He wiped it away, panting. He wouldn’t go back to Kandahar. Not in reality and certainly not in a memory. He fucking wouldn’t go back. He was home. Stateside. Permanently this time. And the attack had been months ago.
    â€œNiall?” Ross’s voice was thin. Distant.
    Niall swung his gaze to meet his brother’s wide-eyed, worried expression. Ross righted the stool but didn’t move closer.
    With a calm Niall didn’t feel, he grinned and gestured to the computer. “I hate math.”
    Ross glanced at the darkened screen and back, doubt digging grooves around his mouth. “If you want to talk about it.”
    â€œTalk about what?” Niall feigned confusion. The last thing he wanted to do was to discuss his