Free Jensen:: A Military Bad Boy Romance (The Bradford Brothers Book 1) by Juliana Conners Page A

reminding me that PTSD doesn’t equal crazy? And continuing to call me out for being such an ass about it? “I just meant that I know I don’t have PTSD.”
    “Sure,” he says. “But if you did, it wouldn’t be such an awful thing.”
    Why does he care so much ? I study his face but it’s a mystery. I don’t think he’s trying to say he thinks I do have PTSD, because Ramsey has never been one to mince words. He’d just come out and say it. We’ve always been close like that.
    Harlow interrupts our slightly serious conversation by punching me in the arm.
    “But you were using your pick-up voice while talking to your lawyer,” he insists. “She hot?”
    “Ha. Yeah.” I turn back to my glass on the bar, wanting him to drop it already. “But she’s super stuck up.”
    “I’m sure you can soften her up,” says Harlow, with a grin.
    “Stop. She’s my fuckin’ attorney .”
    I don’t know why I feel so protective of her. I know Harlow is just fucking with me like he always does, teasing me about my tendency to go through girls like red lights. But she’s not just any girl. She really is my attorney, and she really is… different, somehow.
    “Well I gotta go,” Ramsey says, his hand clasping my shoulder as he stands up. “Early day tomorrow.”
    “Me too,” I say, swigging back the rest of my drink. “Although I swear if these trainees don’t start stepping up, I don’t even know how I can do this job. Could you imagine us just moseying down a mountain in Kabul? We’d all be dead. But these trainees act like they’re training for a day at the park, not a war.”
    “I know nothing can compare to serving in the Special Ops with your pararescue brothers,” Ramsey says, sympathetically. “But this seems like a good gig for you. You’re given free reign and you’re paid much better than you used to be—”
    “And much better than Ramsey and I still are,” Harlow points out.
    “And you still get to do what you love,” Ramsey finishes.
    “But I’m not with you two. And I won’t get to be deployed.”
    I know I sound whiny. There are still opportunities to go overseas as a private contractor if I want. But everything’s changed so quickly and I do miss working alongside my brothers. After all we went through as children, we have each other’s backs like no other men could. And it was an honor to serve alongside them as “brothers” in the military as well as actual “brothers.”
    “Well, once you sort this criminal case out, I’m sure you can come back,” says Ramsey, always so supportive.
    “But why would you want to?” quips Harlow. “Stay where you are and I want to come join you.”
    Now there’s an idea .
    “Yeah, first thing’s first,” I say, as I stand up to leave.
    I say goodbye to my biker friends as we get ready to leave. They tell me to come back soon and that they’ll buy me a round to celebrate my escape from the slammer. I think I’m ready to join up with them, and even if Harlow and Ramsey don’t understand, these guys have become like a second family to me. Harlow and Ramsey still have our Special Ops unit to count as their figurative brothers, but I don’t. So I need the FreeFlyers.
    As we walk outside to the parking lot, Ramsey follows me to my bike instead of heading to his car.
    “I’m glad you found some friends here,” he says.
    “Thanks.”
    I stare at him, thinking his nice comment is really just a lead- in to tell me to be careful, or that motorcycle clubs are notoriously rough, or something along those lines. But he doesn’t say anything further.
    “I didn’t mean to upset you about the whole PTSD thing, either,” he says.
    “Well, it’s kind of upsetting, Ramsey. My last lawyer, Dylan— from the VLA? Before I fired him? He sent me to go see this shrink who specializes in PTSD. I had to answer all kinds of prying, embarrassing questions about my past. Mom, Harlow, the war, everything. All so he could find some bullshit reason to say I