“But Korbin—”
“I’m sorry, Peyton. I really am.”
Before she could speak, I got to my feet and walked away towards the door, but as my hand touched the handle, Peyton was by my side, pulling me back, her fingers wrapping desperately around mine.
“Don’t do this,” she whispered, embracing me where I stood. “Please don’t do this, Korbin. This isn’t the answer. I won’t go to Chicago. I’ll stay. I’ll make my life here, with you.”
“I love you too much to ever put you through this,” I whispered, pressing my lips, hard, against her temple. I knew if I didn’t leave now, I wouldn’t be able to. “You have a future ahead of you, a bright one that I can’t be a part of.”
“Korbin—”
“I love you, Peyton. Don’t you ever forget it.”
Chapter1
Korbin
Five Years Later
It burns.
It burns hot.
Hot enough to kill you. At any given moment, it’s like standing at death’s door, hand raised, ready to knock, but unaware of the possible dangers you’re about to confront.
At least, I tell people who ask what it’s like being a firefighter, running into the burning buildings as the smart people are running out. That’s what I tell them. That it burns.
Today, however, as Matthew Nelson made a valiant attempt to make dinner for the house, the only thing truly burning was the mashed potatoes stuck to the pot's bottom like tar.
“Nelson,” Tate Hansen said, peering over his shoulder as smoke began to rise from the pot, coating the kitchen and dining room in a hazy, smoky fog. “I think the potatoes are done.”
“I don’t know,” Nick Barlow said, standing up from his chair to peer into the kitchen at Matt’s mess. “I like my potatoes extra crispy.”
“Then buy some chips,” I said with a laugh, getting up to save the boy from any more humiliation. Shaking my head, I grabbed the pot of spoiled potatoes from the burner and took it to the sink to douse the mess in water, winking at Matt to show him no harm done.
“I told all of you I was a terrible cook,” he said. “So, this is what you get.”
“Hey, at least the steaks look good,” Hansen said, licking his lips.
“That’s because Korbin did the steaks,” Matt mumbled, glancing at me. I raised my hands in the air in surrender and chuckled, shrugging, and Hansen cast a forlorn glance at the steaks and sighed.
“Do we have to wait for you to make the potatoes again?” he asked.
“I don’t know about you, but I don’t need potatoes to enjoy a good steak,” said Nick, reaching for one of the plates. I glanced at the others and shrugged, grabbing a plate for myself and cola from the fridge before joining my brothers at the table, relishing in the satisfied moans drifting along the table as they cut into their meat and chewed it.
“Did anyone tell you that you’d make a damn good housewife?” Matt asked me, already halfway done with his. “You could be my personal chef. I could get behind one of these steaks three times a day.”
“Once or twice,” I said with a shrug. The truth was my Italian parents had taught me to cook growing up. Even my father, a firefighter himself, had been a better cook than many women I’d known. Instead of shying away from the task, I’d put all my focus on it and eventually became a better cook than most people I knew.
“Some lucky woman will be spoiled by you,” said Nick. “I just wish I was that lucky woman.” He batted his eyelashes, teasing me, and I scoffed.
“Spare me the marriage talk,” I grumbled. “I’ll cook for myself and only myself. That’s the best way to do it.”
Hansen stopped eating then, putting his fork down as he looked around the table at his crew, preparing to speak but looking awkward and unsure. He cleared his throat and clasped his hands in front of him on the tabletop.
“Speaking of marriage,” he said, and a hush fell over the dining room. “I asked Paisley to marry me last night.” His eyes landed on me as the silence grew even louder, and nobody said anything at all for a moment.
“Well, Captain,” Nick said finally. “Did she say yes?”
