Patrick “Ice” Foster hauled his sixty-pound rucksack onto his back and sauntered down the ramp of the C-17 military cargo plane, boots and fatigues dusty from his SEAL team’s week-long deployment to Afghanistan.  He felt tired, his muscles stiff and sore, and dirty from the sweat and grime coating his skin.  Nothing would feel better right now than a hot shower and a solid twelve hours sleeping in his own bed.

Hell, after a week of pitching a tent in the desert and barely sleeping five hours a night, he’d gladly crash on his living room floor.

He glanced down at the nasty stab wound on his forearm, sewn neatly shut with nine stitches.  Compared to other injuries he’d gotten over the years as a SEAL, this was nothing but a scratch.

Another member of his team, Mike “Patch” Hunter, had stitched him up in the field after they’d battled with insurgents.  Patrick and his men had conducted a raid on an enemy compound, rescuing an American soldier being held hostage, and had slipped back into the night in their Black Hawk as quickly as they’d arrived.

After tracking the enemies’ movements for four days, last night they’d completed their mission and gotten their man.  And luck didn’t have a damn thing to do with it.  Patrick’s SEAL team was among the best of the best.  His men trained together daily and fought as one in battle.  They were his brothers, and he’d lay down his life for any one of them, just as they’d do for him.

“Are you meeting us at Anchors tomorrow, Ice?” Christopher “Blade” Walters asked as he caught up to Patrick.

“Maybe,” he commented noncommittally as the two men fell in step beside one another.

“You should—we missed your sorry ass last time.”

“Needed my help picking up women?”

“In your dreams.  More like fighting them off.”

Patrick smirked.  A local bar near their base in Little Creek, Virginia, Anchors was a popular hangout frequented by the locals and military members alike.  It was always packed with SEALs looking to unwind and local women intent on taking one home for the night.  And vice versa.

Not that Patrick had complained about that in his younger days, but at thirty-five, and as one of the older members on his team, he didn’t hang out there much anymore.  Nor did he have the time to, but it was a tradition for the six guys on his SEAL team to go there the day after they’d returned from a deployment to have a few beers and decompress.

“Although I am hoping to avoid that cute little blonde I met last time.  She was way too clingy.”

Patrick raised his eyebrows.

“I took her home for the night, and she stuck around all morning.  I finally had to convince her we had training that day.  Even put on my PT gear before I escorted her out my front door.”

“You’re such a charmer.”

“I do what I can.  And don’t get me wrong—she was a tiger in bed.”

“That’s exactly why I avoid the place.”

“The blonde?”

“The women.”

Patrick had met his ex-wife at Anchors years ago.  He’d thought he was hot as shit back then, nothing but six-foot-three inches of solid muscle with the ability to easily attract all the ladies within a fifty-foot radius.

The other guys had joked they were glad that he was off the market when he’d proposed to his ex.  He’d never had trouble finding a woman to take home in the past and had enjoyed more than his fair share of the ladies over the years.  Something about his ex-wife had drawn him in though, in a way no one else ever had before.  She was open, sweet, and caring—the exact opposite of his own calm, cool, and collected demeanor.

Patrick had earned the nickname “Ice” in BUD/S, Basic Underwater Demolition/SEALS training, for that very reason—he was completely calm, as cold as ice, no matter what situation was thrown at them.

And they’d dealt with a lot.  That instinct to keep a level head had been honed over years on the battlefield and deployments to hell holes all over the planet.  Between those experiences and what he’d gone through with his ex, nothing could faze him now.

She’d announced that she was leaving him when he’d returned from his second deployment, a two-week tour of hell in the jungles of South America.  The other men on his team were all single, and Patrick thought he was the lucky one, having a woman to come home to.  A wife who supposedly loved him.

Fuck if he was wrong about everything.  She couldn’t handle the stress of not knowing where he was, how long he’d be gone, or if he’d even return.  Plenty of those who served never did come back—or when they did, they weren’t ever the same.  War hardened a man, changed him, kept him on edge and completely alert even when he was back in his own bed.  The women they left behind could never completely understand what they’d gone through.

One deployment was hard enough, but having to go through that shit again and again?  She couldn’t deal.

Patrick’s first SEAL deployment had been difficult, but they’d talked afterward, and Patrick thought he’d left on good terms.  That they’d work through it.  Then after his second tour, she’d taken their young son and left, moving in with her parents the moment he returned.

He’d been shocked.  Dealing with the break-up of his marriage had him feeling like his goddamn heart was being ripped out, but he was determined not to let a damn thing get to him afterward.  He sure as hell wasn’t about to let a woman ever do that to him again.  He’d be just fine, thank you very much, living alone and seeing his son when he could.  Maybe he’d enjoy the pleasure of a woman once in a while, but he sure as hell wouldn’t ever let one into his heart again.

When she’d told him she had cancer last year and only had a few months left to live, that had sealed the deal, cementing his decision.  No one should have to watch anyone they loved suffer that much—and he did still love her, despite their divorce.  She was the mother of his child, the woman he’d pledged himself to honor and protect.  Just like that, his world had crumbled apart once more.

Now her parents watched Logan when Patrick was deployed, and the rest of the time he devoted his life to his six-year-old son.  He had no desire or need for a committed relationship again.  No, his son, his SEAL team, and the occasional lady he found to go home with were more than enough to fulfill him.

Patrick took a deep breath as they walked off the C-17, inhaling the salty air that came from being near the water.  Best thing about living here.  Damn, if that didn’t feel good after being in the dry, desert heat for a week.

It had been a short mission, but that didn’t make it any less difficult to leave his son.  He’d take his kid down to the ocean this weekend if the weather was good—soak in all that sun and salty sea air.

“Come on, that’s never kept you away before.  It’s tradition,” Christopher insisted.

“Fuck, yeah!” Mike shouted, catching up to them.  “About time you join the rest of us for a night on the town again.”

“We’ll see,” Patrick said.  “I just got back—it’s gonna be hard to leave the kid again.”

“Kids sleep,” Christopher commented.  “Just come for a few hours.”

“Agreed; that’s not an excuse.  How’s the arm?”  Mike asked.

“Good as new.”  He held it up for Mike to admire his handiwork.

“You picking up Logan tonight?” Christopher asked.

“Yeah.  I’m gonna drop my gear off and shower first, but within the hour I’ll be over at his grandparents’ house.”

“Sweet.  That kid is growing like a weed.  The last time I saw him he was throwing a damn good spiral.”

“And Ice taught him that?” Mike joked.

Patrick had been all-American in high school football, but rather than take one of the many football scholarships that were offered to him, he’d joined the US Navy and become a SEAL.  He’d felt it was his duty to serve and protect, and although he loved football, it didn’t hold a candle to serving his nation.

September 11 had only furthered his resolve to make the military a lifelong career, and he hadn’t looked back or regretted his decision once.

He’d seen a lot over the years, in warzones and deployments to other war-torn areas, proving just that much more how much guys like him—like any of the men on his SEAL team—were needed.

Patrick and his team had been wounded on numerous occasions but had successfully completed every mission they’d deployed on. They’d helped women and children who had nothing, protected those who needed someone to defend them, fought against men who were hell-bent on causing nothing but harm and destruction, and rescued Americans from situations others wouldn’t imagine in their worst nightmares.

And not once had he wished for the cushy life of a professional athlete.  Of the fame and glory that came with it.  The SEAL’s motto was, “The only easy day was yesterday,” and that suited Patrick damn fine.  He’d push himself every day to serve his country and protect others, and he expected nothing less from the other men on his team.

None of that meant he was about to take shit about his ball-playing days from his teammates.  Patrick shot Mike a look that would’ve killed a lesser man, his cool blue eyes like ice.

“Easy,” Mike joked.  “I’m only kidding around with you about Logan because I plan to stay single for life.  No wife or kids tying me down—and plenty of ladies to keep me company.”

“I heard that!” Evan “Flip” Jenkins turned around and shouted from ahead of them.  “You’re gonna be a lonely old man some day, Hunter.”

Mike laughed and flipped him the bird.  “I just flipped off Flip.  Get it?”

“Fuck you,” Evan spat out good-naturedly.

“Is that how you got your name, Flip?” Mike joked, moving ahead to catch up with Evan and the other guys.

They were walking across the tarmac of the airstrip now, speeding up as they got closer to the hangar.  An overnight flight on a military cargo plane was less than comfortable accommodations, and none of them could wait to get out of there, get cleaned up, and enjoy life back in the good ole U.S. of A.

“That kid can throw,” Christopher continued as the others walked off ahead of them.  Flip jokingly punched Mike in the arm, and the guys tussled back and forth a minute with the other two members of their team egging them on.

“Don’t I know it,” Patrick said with a rare laugh.  “He’s gonna play ball like his old man.”

“Think he’ll be a SEAL some day?”

“Hell if I know.  The kid can do whatever he wants, and he’ll have my full support.”

“Are you turning soft on me, Ice?”

Patrick laughed, feeling lighter than he had all year.  He’d pulled off another successful mission with his team, they’d rescued an American hostage, and he was about to see his kid.  At the moment, life didn’t get much better than that.  Even his guys ribbing he could take, because they knew he’d throw it right back at them when the mood struck.  They fought with each other like brothers sometimes, but when the shit hit the fan, he could count on each and every one of his men with his life.

He’d lay down his own life for them any day, their brotherhood forged on the battlefield and stronger than blood ties.

Save for his son, each of those men were the most important thing in his life.  Patrick’s duty to his country came first.  He put his country and SEAL brothers before anything else, and nothing would ever change that.