“That’s sweet.” I never considered how different our childhoods were. My parents are attentive and loving, but when I was a kid they both worked a lot, and my after-school memories are mostly with one nanny or another. I loved those women like grandmothers or favorite aunts, so I didn’t resent my parents for leaving us in their care.

Carter rubs his chest, and I wonder if he even realizes it. “Most of the time I feel okay with not having him here for me. I mean, I miss him, but I’m fine. Mostly. But I really, really miss Mom having him.”

“I love your mom. She’s definitely one of the kindest people I’ve ever met. But I think she’s doing okay.”

He nods, seeming lost in his thoughts, and busies himself with the chicken, turning it and browning the other side before adding the cheese and apples and covering the pan.

“Tell me something I don’t know about your mom,” I say, more because the silence is breaking my heart than because I think I really need to know more. When it comes to knowing about each other’s families, I definitely have the advantage here.

“She didn’t want me to be a firefighter.”

“Oh.” I’m not sure what I expected, but that wasn’t it.

“She didn’t try to talk me out of it. Mom is nothing if not supportive of our goals and dreams, but she told me that it terrified her and that if she could choose, I’d join the family business or do something—anything—less dangerous.”

“Was that hard? To pursue a spot with the department when you knew she wished you wouldn’t?”

He takes a long pull from his beer before shaking his head. “No. I knew she’d support me no matter what, and I always wanted to do something good too much to let her worries stop me.” His chest shakes with silent laughter and he rolls his eyes. “Ridiculous childhood fantasies.”

“You do, Carter. You’re quite literally a hero every day.”

“Don’t call me that, okay?”

His voice is so low that I can barely hear the request, but something about the intensity behind his words sends a chill through me. I want to push—to ask him why that label bothers him so much. But I also want to wash away the pain I see on his face. It’ll wait. Another time I’ll get him to let me in and understand that wound. Or maybe I won’t. Maybe we both carry old hurts we will never share with anyone. “Okay. I promise.”

Carter

I love watching Teagan enjoy a meal.

It’s nothing new. I’ve done it a thousand times at the bar, at Sunday brunch, at Ethan’s . . . but something about the way she closes her eyes and moans around a bite of something I cooked makes this even better. I find myself wishing I could feed her again and again, wishing we had more time to prepare for this wedding. I’m not worried about our ability to pull it off, but I want an excuse to come over here and cook for her, flirt with her. I want to watch those cheeks flush while I tease her and impress her with my rudimentary culinary skills. As it stands, tonight is the only one like this we’ll get. Tomorrow, everyone comes to town, and I’ll have to share her with her family. And then Monday, we’re back to friends.