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PROLOGUE

ALEXA LAINE

I’m not the best person in the world. There’s really no other way to put it. In my twenty-four years of life, I’ve been called some horrible things that aren’t entirely false—spoiled, selfish, self-absorbed, bitchy, slutty, and immature—to name a few.

Usually people like me, those with a tad more faults than others, have a tragic backstory that gives them a pass to act the way they do.

“Yes, so-and-so is a lunatic, but he or she was abused, neglected, had bad parents, went through a traumatic event, etc. Said person deserves some grace.” Right?

Absolutely. I mean, a little understanding for others goes a long way. As they say, don’t judge someone until you’ve walked a mile in their shoes. Or at least, I think someone said that.

Yet I was raised in a beautiful house in a picturesque neighborhood in Jacksonville, Florida. I had two adoring parents, in a happy marriage, who did nothing but love me. I was given everything I could possibly need—stuff, trips, clothes, attention, and love. I went to a good school and had amazing friends. There wasn’t a moment in my upbringing that was lacking. Nothing that I could pin my faults on.

Truthfully, I don’t have an excuse other than I think I was born a jerk. That can happen, right? It must be in my DNA. There’s no other reason for my faults. There’s simply no excuse.

The reality of it all is that most of the time, it was fun. I was a bitch, and I didn’t care. I was spoiled, and it was the best. I only cared about myself because I was awesome. Let’s call a spade a spade—I’m a dick. But the thing is—I don’t want to be one anymore.

As a teen, I got by on snark and entitled charm. My personality flaws suited my happiness. As an adult…it’s not cool. Real grown-ups, the ones who have their shit together, don’t put up with people like me.

The beauty of being a human is I have the ability to change—free will. I don’t have to perpetuate the role I’ve always played. I can decide to be better, to be good. Every action is a choice. Some come easier than others. Maybe they’re more in line with a person’s personality. But even the hard options are doable if one makes the choice to do them.

I’m choosing to be different because the life I want requires me to change my actions. Someone else said that insanity is doing the same thing repeatedly and expecting different results. I may be called many things, but stupid is not one of them.

I want my life to be different, so I must be different. Full stop.

This realization took way too long to come to me. But, when it did, it hit hard.

I didn’t realize how lost I was until I was found.

It took a trip to visit a friend and meeting a man who made me feel things I’ve never felt before. He made me want to be better, not just for him but for me. He had me craving a new feeling—one of genuine, mature love—the kind that only people who have most of their shit together experience.

For me, the connection was instant. Once I had it, I never wanted to let it go. But, as was my pattern, I ruined it and didn’t have a choice to keep it.

If I wanted this kind of love—this level of happiness—I had to be worthy of it.

I had to change, and I would.

I just hoped I wouldn’t lose him in the process.

CHAPTER1

THEN

TONY BOSTON

“Alright, so you have all your gear. Just sign here that you’ve received it.” I tap the signature line on the paperwork sitting on my desk. “Sawyer Dawson, you’re first.” I hold out a pen toward the latest pretty boy to walk through Station Twelve’s doors as a probationary candidate or, as we lovingly call them here, probie.

Sawyer takes the pen, a wide excited smile on his boy-next-door face. Meticulously styled brunette hair and doe eyes, with a look like he was made to grace a magazine cover means he’ll fit in perfectly here. Our house seems to lure in the handsome dudes. Not that I care. Save for the fact that the lieutenant over at thirty-two, Derek-dipshit-Borgess loves to yank our chains, calling us the dirty dozen for our playboy ways…apparently. Whatever, fuck that dude. He’s just bitter that it took him five years longer to make lieutenant than it took me even though we came through the academy at the same time.

But dipshit Derek isn’t alone. Our house has a reputation for having the hottest firefighters in Chicago. I can’t tell you how many calendars we’ve been asked to be on. It’s ridiculous, really. The bottom line is we do our job, and we do it well. That’s what’s important.

Sawyer signs the document and takes a step back from my desk. I pull the other contract out from beneath Sawyer’s and place it on top. “Your turn, Finn Roberts.” Finn, who looks like a prince from a fairy tale book with his black hair, bright blue eyes, and fair skin, takes the pen from me and signs on the line.

Seriously? Where do we find these guys?

It wouldn’t hurt our street cred to get a few hit-up guys in here for once. You know, some acne, scars, buck teeth…anything.

“Follow me.” I stand from my desk, and the new guys follow me out of my office, holding their gear in their arms.

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