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CHAPTER 3

T RINA

Walking from the car to the hotel entrance in a backless dress when the temperature outside is only thirty degrees sucks. But gingerly stepping across sections of black ice in stilettos is like some kind of fashion Hunger Games.

“I can’t believe I let you two pick out my dress for this. And these damn heels. You realize you’ve pushed me over six-feet tall in these, right?”

Emily and Shayna both giggle like schoolgirls instead of acting like the mature, professional twenty-seven years old they are. That they still play this game from college where they pick each other’s outfits for special occasions and try to one-up each other on the sexiness factor makes me wonder if I should even use the word ‘mature’ to describe them. That I let them suck me into their web of fashion wars makes me question my sanity.

Once we’re safely in the hotel and none of us have fallen—miraculously—we follow the music and signs to the ballroom where the Elladine Fire Department’s annual Valentine’s Day fundraiser to benefit the local chapter of the Muscular Dystrophy Association is being held.

As we enter the room, Emily and Shayna ooh and ah over the sparkling silver and red decorations and the plethora of lit up hearts hanging from the ceiling.

I’ll admit, it looks nice, but I’m fully prepared to feel awkward all evening. Still, I hope for the best. I move over to an area next to a wall, Emily and Shayna following, and try to tug down the bottom of my red dress that falls just about two inches below mid-thigh.

Shayna slaps my hand.

I glare at her. “Ow!”

“Stop doing that. You look amazing and your dress is a respectable length for this kind of event,” Shayna chastises me.

“You guys, I have colleagues here. Several of whom I supervise. I don’t want them to see this much of my body. What was I thinking?”

Emily moves in front of me and places her hands on my shoulders, focusing her gaze on my eyes. “Listen, your dress is not too short. Plus, we purposely went with the thick crisscross straps across your chest and shoulders so, as you requested, you wouldn’t have any cleavage showing?—”

“Which I think is a shame because you’ve got great boobs,” Shayna interrupts. I roll my eyes at her and turn back to Emily.

“Yes, the back is open, but you look fucking amazing and hot. So, own it. Plus, the other firefighters see you working out in shorts and a tank top, so this is actually more clothes.”

“Yeah, but I’m sweaty and gross then. Not sexy,” I counter.

Shayna guffaws. “If you don’t think those guys find you hot AF when you’re working out, you’re na?ve.”

“You’re not helping, Shay,” Emily chuckles.

I take a deep breath. “Fine. I’ll focus on that this get-up may help when I’m in the bachelor and bachelorette auction and it’s for a good cause.”

Emily smiles and drops her arms from my shoulders while Shayna grins like a kid getting her first ice cream cone.

I take three steps toward where the bulk of the attendees are, and I whirl around to face them.

“But I swear, if I accidentally flash someone my panties because you fashion monsters picked this dress, I’m kicking both of your asses.” I face forward again and head to the bar. I’m gonna need a drink to settle down a bit.

Shayna and Emily chuckle behind me and, even though I act tough around them sometimes, I smile because I’m happy these two have each other. They’re the epitome of best friends and have been since they met during their freshman year in high school. Well, the epitome of best female friends. Because I wouldn’t trade my best friend for the world. Truthfully, I’ve never had many close friends at all. But Fitz and I clicked when we met in fire academy almost ten years ago and bonded almost instantly.

When I met Fitz, Ben and I were together, but I didn’t tell anyone. Not even Fitz or Emily. I was afraid he’d end up hurting me and I’d look like a fool. Boy, did he prove me right.

When I think back on that time, I’m pretty sure it was right around when I started the fire academy that things first got tense with Ben and me. We’d been together about six weeks, and he wanted to make our relationship public. I still wasn’t ready, though. So, when he pushed me on it, I dug my heels in, and we had our first fight. I never gave him the explanation he asked for since I didn’t want to hurt him more, and I was sure that would. Still, it only lasted a few hours that time and he was at my door apologizing for not being more patient. In truth, I get now why me insisting on keeping us a secret for so long upset him. Not that I’d ever admit that to him, though.

“Tri? He asked what you want to drink,” Emily says, tapping my shoulder.

“Oh, sorry.” I offer the bartender a small smile. “I’ll take a chardonnay, if you have it.”

“Coming right up, beautiful.” His flirty grin and boy-next-door good looks result in a warm flush creeping into my face and I’m sure my cheeks are pink. All I can do is smile back.

After we’ve got our drinks and settle into a high-top table near one of the side walls to people watch, Shayna points at me. “That right there is what I’m talking about. The bartender was totally flirting with you, and you missed it.”

I throw an incredulous glance across the table at her. “He was not. I’m sure he says that kind of stuff to lots of women to get good tips.”

Emily shrugs. “He didn’t say it to either of us. Nor to any of the women right in front of us in line…”

Fortunately, I’m saved from further commentary on their part when Shayna glances back over at the bar.

“Oh great,” Shayna mutters, sarcastically.

“What?” Emily and I ask in unison. We both follow Shayna’s gaze.

“The guy over there, walking toward the bar now in the navy-blue suit, see him? That’s the guy I kind of made out with on New Year’s Eve and ghosted him when he texted me after.”

“He’s attractive enough,” I say, after giving him the once-over. “Why’d you ghost him?”

“I don’t know. There weren’t sparks when we kissed. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I didn’t stop him, but I didn’t have any tingles anywhere,” she answers.

“Christ, Shay. You’re going to have to put yourself back out there if you want to have any chance of sparks again. A crowded bar dance floor probably isn’t the place you’re going to feel something. You should have gone on a date or two with him. If you keep this up, you’re never going to have sex again,” Emily lectures.

“I’ve had sex since Tom!” Shayna whisper yells, defending herself.

“Twice in five long years, Shay. You’re twenty-seven years old and smoking hot. You should get lots of action.” Emily’s voice is scolding and I’m happy the focus is off me for a few minutes.

“Well, sex with Tom was… sweet and loving. He was attentive,” Shayna says, quietly. “With the other two guys, it was sloppy and kind of… gross.”

“Sweetie, I think you’ve been having sex with the wrong guys, because that is not how sex is supposed to be. Hot and dirty, sometimes, but not sweaty and gross,” I tell her.

Before Shayna can respond, Finn Bannon steps up to our table.

“I have to agree with your friends. If sloppy and gross is the kind of sex you’re having, you’re definitely having it with the wrong people.”

Finn is one of our rookie firefighters, having only started with us in September. He’s on B shift with Fitz and Jack, but he’s already building a reputation as a great medic and firefighter. From how he stared at Shayna all night on New Year’s Eve, I suspect he has a thing for her. So, this should prove interesting.

“Oh my God, Finn! Keep your voice down,” Shayna says. Her face is as crimson as a beet. “Also, it’s none of your business who I have sex with or what kind of sex I have,” she hisses.

“We could make it my business, darlin’. I could show you what you’re missing,” he says, smirking at her.

Hmm. This is a side of Finn I haven’t gotten to see. If I were Shayna, I think I’d find it kinda hot…

“God, you’re an arrogant ass.”

“It’s not arrogant if it’s true, Shayna.” His voice is smooth, and he says it closer to her ear now, but I can still hear him.

Emily and I are both sitting back in our chairs, sipping our drinks and watching the show. Just as a pissed off Shayna opens her mouth to respond, someone makes an announcement over the speakers that it’s time to head to the stage for the upcoming auction. Damn, this was getting good.

“That’s us, Finn. Let’s go,” I say. I stand up and wait for him.

“I’m up fourth, in case you want to bid,” Finn says to Shayna. He winks at her and heads toward the stage with me.

“Wow, Finn. I wasn’t aware you had such game with the ladies,” I tease. I’m surprised to see his cheeks pink.

“Not all the ladies. She just… I don’t know. She’s under my skin a bit, Captain. But don’t tell her, please.”

“Oh, I think she might already know.” I chuckle. “But don’t worry, I won’t say anything. And when we’re not at the station, call me Trina. I’m pretty sure you might be the next addition to our friend group.”

Finn’s jaw drops but we’re at the stage now, so I ignore it and walk up to Janie, a nurse from the ER. She’s the emcee tonight, and she’s pretty damn sassy, so I’m guessing it’ll be amusing. Jack’s fiancée, Annie, is tasked with keeping us all organized and making sure we get up to the stage on time.

Once it’s time to start, I watch from the side as Reynolds is the first bachelor up. He brings in a few hundred dollars for the cause. Now it’s my turn. Well, if any of my coworkers didn’t see what I was wearing before, they will now. I straighten my shoulders and decide to ‘own it’ like Emily instructed me to do when we first got here.

I can immediately hear the hooting and hollering from Shayna and Emily, and a whistle coming from the area where a group of our firefighters and their dates are sitting. I throw a teasing glare their way.

My auction, unfortunately for me but fortunately for the cause, doesn’t go as quickly as Reynolds’ did. There are two men and one woman near the front taking part, and another man who is sitting further back. I squint to make out his face better. He looks familiar, but I can’t tell who he is from this far away. I guess if he wins, I’ll have a close-up view because the “prize” is a one-hour dinner at a private table with me and the first dance of the night.

When my bidding is up to four hundred and fifty dollars, it looks like the guy in the shadows will be the winner.

“Going once. Going twice,” Janie calls out.

“Six hundred dollars,” a fresh voice calls out. A voice I’d recognize anywhere.

I whip my head to the table where Ben is sitting, and my eyes widen. My insides quiver at how intently his eyes focus on me. He wears no smirk on that annoyingly attractive face of his. Instead, he’s leaned backed casually in his chair, staring at me. I’m the one who looks away first, and I hate it.

What in the actual hell does he think he’s doing? Come on, guy in the back, go up a little.

When Janie announces Ben as the winner a few seconds later, I’m so stunned I’m surprised I make it off the stage without falling over. Ben and I just had a fight a few weeks ago about him playing games with me and now he pulls this.

I stew about it as the auction proceeds for a few more firefighters, before I focus my attention on the stage as Fitz comes up for his turn. He’ll hate every minute of this. He’s definitely not one for the spotlight. But he’s a good guy and when it’s for a good cause like this, he forces himself to look past his discomfort.

I’m not surprised to hear a bidding war going on for my best friend. He’s a good-looking man. What I am surprised about—a little at least—is when Emily bids one thousand dollars on him… and wins.

Fitz’s face looks shocked as his mouth gapes open, and his eyes are so enormous right now he almost looks like one of those cartoon characters when their eyes spring in and out of their sockets.

When Fitz walks off the stage and approaches me, he’s rubbing the back of his neck and blinking rapidly—clearly nervous.

“What’s that about, Fitz?” I can feel my eyebrows raise and I try, unsuccessfully, to lower them. I’m surprised, but I’m not mad at him.

He slips both hands into his pockets and rocks back on his heels. “Beats me. I’m as shocked as you are.” Then he changes the subject. “Any idea why Ben thought to bid on you?”

I huff. “Who knows why he does anything?” Shit, I shouldn’t have said that. “Well, I guess if Em was gonna bid tonight, I’m glad she bid on you and not some player like Garcia or Jones.”

Fitz and I watch the rest of the bidding and then Finn takes the stage, the final bachelor in the auction tonight. I think we’re all stunned when his winning bidder goes up to eighteen hundred dollars for him.

“Holy shit,” Fitz whispers.

“Yeah.” It’s all I can mutter because I’m too busy watching Shayna roll her eyes and try to appear disinterested. But her pinched expression tells me she’s very much annoyed.

Ten minutes later, I’m irritable as I make my way to the table where I’ll have to endure Ben for the next hour.

* * *

BEN

For the past two weeks, my last conversation with Trina has consumed my mind. How did I miss this for all these years? Sure, when I was twenty-one, I get how my immaturity led me down a path of blaming her for our breakup since she hurt me. When she wasn’t ready to tell people about us after I’d poured out my heart to her—had told her I loved her—my pride took a hit. But how in the hell did I forget her face when I chased her out of the diner that day? How did I not think back to her tears and realize, over these nine plus years, that I broke her?

Without meaning to, I let myself go back to that day while I wait for it to be time for dinner with Trina.

I glance up when the bell on the door of Pat’s Diner jingles, and my breath hitches when I see it’s her—Trina. We haven’t seen each other or talked on the phone in three days. Not since making love, then lying in bed, me holding her in my arms. Everything was perfect. Then, I asked her to come to family dinner at my parents’ house so we could announce to my family that we were dating. She said no. Again.

It was just like our first big fight almost three months ago, the same one we keep having. I want to tell people about us, and she says no. I’ve asked her to explain to me what’s still holding her back, but she never will. She clams up every time.

I can still feel the nausea that roiled through my stomach when I asked her why she didn’t want to go to family dinner.

With downcast eyes, she spoke so softly, yet the meaning behind her words was so loud. “I’m still not ready, Ben. Why can’t we just keep things as they are for a while longer?”

I placed a finger under her chin, so she had to look up at me.

“Trina, we’ve been together almost five and a half months. I can understand why you felt like this when we’d only been together six weeks, but haven’t I proven to you I’m not going anywhere? That I’m all in this?”

When she said nothing but shrugged hesitantly, all my hope seeped out of me. I moved away from her and sat on the side of the bed with my back to her.

“I want to tell my family. I’d like for you to tell Emily and your best friend, at least. Jesus, I haven’t even met Fitz yet.”

The silence that ensued was deafening. Then, after the longest minute or two ever, she cleared her throat.

“No. I can’t. Your reputation ? —”

“Jesus, can you give me a little credit, please?” I glanced over my shoulder at her.

Her face was stoic, and she met my stare. She wore that expression I’d seen her get, and I knew she wouldn’t change her mind.

I stood and turned to face her as I grabbed my boxer briefs and slipped them on.

“I guess if it’s such a problem for you to tell people about us, I can solve it. Maybe there shouldn’t be an us.”

I pulled on my jeans and then picked up my sweatshirt off the floor.

“Ben…”

I whirled around and faced her. “You’re fucking embarrassed to be dating me.”

I slipped my sweatshirt over my head and moved toward the bedroom door. Fuck, I’d forgotten my socks. Screw it. I’d live without them, even if I had to traipse through the December snow. I had to get out of there.

“No. Please let me explain. Give me a chance to find the words.”

I stopped for a second at the door. My heart said listen to her. She was finally ready to talk. But my pride said let her see how it felt to be on the losing end of this fight. My pride won.

“No.”

Then I stomped my way out of her apartment, and we’ve only communicated in texts for the last few days. Short, choppy texts with no substance.

She messaged earlier today and asked to see me or talk on the phone, and I said I was too busy. Surely, she’d see how it felt and experience a little of what I did when she declined to come to my parents’.

She hasn’t noticed me yet, and I watch as she goes to the counter and sits, apparently needing to wait for her pickup order to be ready. When some of my classmates invited me to Pat’s for dinner, I agreed, hoping it would keep me from giving in and making up with Trina too quickly. But it’s been aggravating so far. One of our female classmates, Joy, brought a few friends and one of them has been super flirty with me tonight. I’m not in the mood for it. Or at least I wasn’t until Trina walked in.

The girl is sitting on the chair next to me, so I reach across and pull her onto my lap. At first, she looks confused, but then must decide she doesn’t care what caused my change of heart and starts running her fingers through my hair. I hate how it feels—completely wrong because it’s not supposed to be her. But I let her keep them there anyway, and I wait.

It only takes a minute or two for Trina to glance around the dining area and do a double take when her eyes land on me. I watch as the color drains from her face and she clutches at her stomach. The girl in my lap whispers something in my ear. I don’t even comprehend what she says because I’m not really listening and I smile and rub my hand up and down her back, wanting to make sure Trina gets a show. Wanting her to storm over and lay her claim to me.

Only she doesn’t. She doesn’t even wait for her food and instead, jumps up off her stool and runs out the door. Fuck. That is not how I saw this going.

I push the girl off my lap, throw a twenty-dollar bill on the table, and take off out of the diner after Trina. At first, I don’t see her and when I do, she’s at her car door, one hand holding the back of her neck and the other over her forehead. I run over to where she is.

“Trina, wait!” I’m panting by the time I reach her.

She spins around to face me, and I see the tears streaming from her eyes. My heart cracks down the middle. When she turns back to her car, she fumbles with her keys for several seconds and her shaking hands finally get the key to work. I panic. She’s really going to leave. When she opens the door and climbs in. I do the only thing I can think of and grab the car door by the frame to prevent her from pulling it closed. She starts her car anyway.

“Let go,” she growls. She refuses to look at me, staring straight ahead.

“No. We need to talk about us.”

Her head whips up to look at me so quickly I wouldn’t be surprised if she strained her neck muscles. Her eyes are wide, her jaw slack.

“What are you talking about? There is no us. Remember? And if there was before today, there definitely isn’t anymore.” Her voice shakes with anger and her eyes, those gorgeous eyes that usually look at me with such warmth—right now, they’re cold, hard.

“Babe, don’t overreact.”

“Let go of my car door. Now. I’m done. This”—she gestures between us—“is done.”

“What? No.” I step back slightly, confused about how this is backfiring so badly.

Then I make my last mistake. I lift both of my hands to grasp my head, and she sees her chance and slams the door, locking it before I realize what’s happening. Since there is no one parked in front of her, she pulls away before I can think of how to stop her.

“Hey,” Jack says, pushing me in the arm. “Where’d you just go in that head of yours? I’ve told you twice they announced it’s time to go to your table for dinner and you’re all spaced out.”

“Oh, yeah. Sorry. Thinking about a work thing.” Shit, now I’m lying to my brother. The only person—besides my mom—I’ve ever told anything about the time I got to be with the woman I loved. What I’ve never told them is what happened that last night. The last night Trina ever spoke to me unless she had to. The night she quit answering any of my texts or calls.

I take a deep breath and rise from my seat. I’ve lost my chance with Trina, and I’ve mourned it for years.

But a few weeks ago, after coming to the epiphany about what that night in the diner really was about, I realized I owe Trina Flynn an explanation and an apology. One that’s about nine and a half years overdue.