Deep Check (Station Seventeen)

by Kimberly Kincaid

  The offer he deserved.

  “What about the Rogues?” Finn asked, and Marty laughed.

  “And I thought I was the cutthroat one,” Marty joked. Something about Finn’s expression must have conveyed that he expected an answer, though, because he continued with, “After last night, they’ll probably scrape together all that they can to get you. Buddying up with their two star players was a nice touch, by the way. But there’s no way the Rogues will be able to touch the offer Babineaux just made.”

  Finn’s pulse rushed, filling his ears with a roar despite the pin-drop quiet of the kitchen. Yes, Marty was misinterpreting his motivations, and yes again, Finn had spent an incredible month here in Remington. But the truth was, he hadn’t even expected to stay longer than a day or two. He’d spent the last three years with the Rage, pouring everything he had into being a part of the team there—of being someone worthy of a championship. He’d done that in New Orleans.

  Not Remington.

  “Kid?” Marty’s voice filtered over the line, his hand waving across the image on Finn’s iPad. “You’re not having second thoughts, are you? What with Remington being your hometown and all?”

  “No,” Finn said, resolve forming a cold, steely ball in his gut. “I’m not having second thoughts. I’ve wanted the deal with the Rage from the get. I don’t belong in Remington. I never have. Give me a couple hours to figure out a flight. I’ll be back in New Orleans by nightfall.”

  Eleven

  January stood on the threshold of her living room with her heart in her throat and her hands balled into fists. Okay, so eavesdropping wasn’t usually something she’d put on her list of things that were cool to do, but as soon as she’d heard Finn’s agent talking about the fundraiser, then the deal from the Rage and the apparent counter-offer from the Rogues, all bets for walking away in the name of privacy had been off.

  Just like right now, all bets for keeping her cool were a statistical impossibility.

  “Did you use my fundraiser to get a more lucrative job offer?”

  Finn’s shock showed in only the slightest tightening of his shoulders before he slid from the bar stool to face her. “How long have you been standing there?”

  “Long enough.” January knotted her arms over the front of the tank top she’d slept in, mostly to cover her slamming heart. God, what an idiot she’d been!

  Finn hadn’t cared about her or the RFD. He’d used her to get what he wanted, and now he was going to leave her behind, just like he had seven years ago. And rather than being once bitten, twice smart-as-hell about it like she damn well should have, she’d gone and fallen in love with him. Again.

  On second thought, ‘idiot’ wasn’t nearly strong enough.

  “This isn’t what it sounds like,” Finn started, but January cut him off with a barbed-wire laugh.

  “Really? Then you didn’t just get an offer for an ungodly amount of money—an offer which, oh by the way, you hadn’t been able to get all freaking month—because the owner of the Rage caught wind of last night’s PR?”

  He flinched. “Yes, but—”

  Anger sparked and flashed, prompting her to cut him off without regret. “And did you plan to use the RFD fundraiser as leverage in brokering that offer?”

  Finn’s pause arrowed directly into January’s chest. “Okay, yes, but not the way you think.”

  “Not the way I think?” she asked, and oh, that was priceless. “I realize I was gullible and love struck enough to fall for your I’m-a-better-guy routine all month, but please, do me a favor and stop insulting me now that I know the score.”

  In an instant, Finn’s gaze darkened, and he stepped toward her on the carpet. “You’re absolutely right, January. You do know the score. We’ve both known it since I got here. I live in New Orleans, and that’s where I belong.”

  “Do you really believe that?”

  Her heart launched the question before her defenses could haul it back. Yes, the realistic part of her had known that Finn was waiting on an offer from the Rage, and that when he got it, he’d be leaving for New Orleans. But the rest of her had seen him become part of the community—part of her community, her family, her life—over the past few weeks, and dammit, Finn belonged there.

  Or maybe she’d just foolishly, trustingly, stupidly wanted him to belong there, when what he’d wanted was leverage for a killer job offer and a few weeks’ worth of no-strings-attached sex.

  For a second, Finn said nothing, an odd flare of some unnamed emotion moving through his eyes. But then it was gone, replaced by something cold and lifeless that January had only seen once before.

  “Yes. I believe that because it’s the truth. This was cool while it lasted, but I belong with my team in New Orleans. Just give me a couple of minutes to get my stuff together, and I’ll be out of your hair for good.”

  Finn sat at the terminal in the Charlotte airport with his duffel bags at his feet and his chest full of nails. Yeah, the second part was metaphorical, and probably a little dramatic on top of it, but still, no matter what Finn thought or did, he couldn’t loosen the bone-deep ache that had settled between his ribs.

  How had everything he’d ever wanted gone from zero to cluster fuck in the span of one goddamn morning?

  “Suck it up, buttercup,” Finn grumbled, grateful that his flight didn’t leave for another six hours, thus leaving the terminal dead-empty of anyone who might overhear him. His blowout with January might definitely fall under the train wreck category, and the whole nails-in-the-chest thing might largely be grounded in the fact that she (erroneously) thought he’d used her fundraiser entirely for his own gain. But at the end of the day, the truth was still the truth.

  He’d wanted the offer from the Rage. Hell, he’d put in enough time, sweat, and energy to earn every penny. He belonged in New Orleans.

  Do you really believe that?

  The words filtered through Finn’s brain, the anger and hope in January’s voice as she’d asked him the same question this morning sounding off in his ears, and he stuffed it back, once and for all. He’d come back to Remington to close a chapter in his life that had long since ended. He had the deal he’d worked for, on the team he’d been part of for the last three years.

  Leaving now—for good—was his only choice.

  Blowing out a breath, Finn pushed to his feet. Sitting here brooding was only going to make him bat-shit crazy, and anyway, he had a ton of time to kill. He might as well grab something to eat to try and kill the ache in his chest.

  Fuck, he missed January.

  Finn shouldered his bags, focusing on the burn in his muscles as he went to make his way to the main terminal. But before he could get so much as three steps from the gate, his cell phone made a holy racket from the back pocket of his jeans.

  “What the hell?” Finn said, his confusion morphing into a quick burst of hope, then a hard shot of dread as he recognized the number on the caller ID. “Kellan?”

  “Hey, man,” the firefighter answered, his voice serious.

  “Is something wrong at the firehouse?” Finn’s pulse rattled, and the sensation didn’t get any better with the guy’s reply.

  “You tell me. January showed up about an hour ago even though it’s her day off, and she looks like hell in a hand basket. Said you left this morning to go back to New Orleans, and that you’re not coming back.”

  Unease climbed the back of Finn’s throat. “Yeah. It’s complicated.”

  “Right.” Kellan paused, and Finn could hear the guy measuring his next words in the soft buzz of silence on the line. “Look, I don’t know what went down between the two of you, and I may be really out of line for saying this, but that doesn’t mean I’m not going to. You’re a cool guy, and I appreciate everything you did to help us out. But January’s one of us, and over here at Seventeen, we look out for our own.”

  “I know,” Finn said.

  “Good. Then you also know she’d do anything for the people she cares about.”

  De
spite the emotions making a spin-cycle out of his gut, Finn’s mouth lifted in a smile that was way more irony than joy. “I know that too.”

  “Then do me a favor and tell me one thing. Why are you wherever you are and not here returning the favor, when the person she obviously cares about above everyone else is you?”

  Just like that, all the air funneled from Finn’s lungs, shock and sadness and something much, much deeper rooting him to his spot in the empty terminal. He’d been so tangled up trying to move forward, to get ahead and prove his worth, that he hadn’t seen the one thing that had been right smack in front of him the whole time.

  January did care about him. No matter who he played for. No matter how many goals he scored or what sort of deal he got offered. She cared about him enough to make him part of everything she loved.

  And he’d gone and fucked it all up by walking out the door. Again.

  “You said she’s there at Seventeen? Right now?” Finn asked, his heart tripping in his too-tight chest. But he had to make this right. He had to finally be the guy he’d worked so hard to become.

  And that guy cared about January above everyone else.

  “Yeah,” Kellan said, but Finn’s feet were already in motion, carrying him to the exit as fast as he could force them to go.

  “Good. Just do me a solid and don’t let her leave.”

  Although he didn’t think it was possible, Finn ran even faster.

  After the tenth time January tried—and failed—to read the incident report in front of her, she threw in the towel. She shouldn’t even be here, she knew, but staying in her condo had driven her crazy. Everywhere she looked, there were memories of Finn—the side of the couch where he sat when they marathoned scary movies, the leftover chili they’d shared earlier that week still sitting in her fridge; hell, even the bar of soap he’d left in his haste to get out of her life still sat in her shower, mocking her with the reminder of its woodsy Finn-like smell. So January had done what any self-respecting, freshly dumped girl would do. She’d thrown on a pair of jeans and thrown herself into work.

  God, she was hopeless.

  Doing her best to ignore the quaver in her chest that meant tears weren’t far behind, she forced herself to pick up the incident report for round eleven. Finn had gotten what he’d wanted. He’d left, and he wasn’t coming back. Really, she needed to get on with her life.

  Even if what she had wanted the most was for him to want her.

  “Hey, J. You got a sec?” Kellan poked his head in from the hallway, and January worked up a tiny smile even though the gesture took all of her effort.

  “Sure. What’s up? Do you guys need more task rotation sheets? I printed some up—”

  “No, we’re good,” he said, stopping her mid-reach. “Actually, I was wondering if you could come take a look at something in the common room for me.”

  “Oh.” Her brows tugged down in concern. “Is everything okay?”

  “I think so, but why don’t you come tell me?”

  January stood, a full dose of what-the-hell-are-you-up-to pinging through her veins. But the sensation pitched to its highest setting when they got to the common room, and every single firefighter and paramedic on A-shift, including Captain Bridges, was standing in the room.

  With Finn right in the middle of them.

  “What…what the hell are you doing here?” she blurted, barely getting the words past her lips, and Finn broke into a crooked smile.

  “Since you really like to ask me that question, I guess I should probably answer it the right way this time. I’m here because I screwed up. I’m here because I need to make things right between us. But mostly, I’m here for you, January.”

  Oh…God. “You said…this morning on the phone with your agent, you said—”

  “I know what I said, and I was wrong.” A pained look flickered through Finn’s stare, but his eyes never budged from hers. “A lot of what you overheard was out of context. Still, I didn’t try hard enough to explain it to you, and I want to do that now, in front of everyone in this room. My agent jumped to a lot of conclusions, but I’ve set him straight. I participated in the RFD fundraiser for one reason and one reason only, and that reason is you.”

  January’s eyes widened in total shock. “Me,” she said slowly.

  “You,” Finn agreed. “You let me back into your life even though I’d hurt you, and you reminded me what it’s like to really belong somewhere. And even though I thought that was in New Orleans, now I know it’s not. It’s here in Remington, with you. I can’t promise that things will always be easy, but I can promise you this. As long as you’ll have me, I’ll never leave again.”

  So many emotions filled her brain that for a second, she couldn’t even think, let alone breathe or speak. But only one mattered, and it was the one she knew above all the others.

  “It’s a good thing you want to stick around, because easy or not, I never want to let you go.”

  January moved toward him at the same time he rushed forward to pull her close, and the room erupted into loud cheers and applause. After a minute or two, the firefighters smartly wandered off to give her and Finn a little privacy, and she pulled back to look at him with a grin.

  “That was a pretty bold move you made.”

  “Not as bold as the deal I signed with the Rogues about twenty minutes ago,” he said. “But Remington is where I belong, and I have you to thank for showing me the way. I love you, Calendar Girl.”

  January pressed up to her tiptoes to kiss him, and in that moment, she knew just where she belonged.

  “I love you, too, Finnegan. I’m glad you’re home.”

  About the Author

  Kimberly Kincaid writes contemporary romance that splits the difference between sexy and sweet and hot and edgy romantic suspense. When she’s not sitting cross-legged in an ancient desk chair known as “The Pleather Bomber”, she can be found practicing obscene amounts of yoga, whipping up anything from enchiladas to éclairs in her kitchen, or curled up with her nose in a book. Kimberly is a USA Today best-selling author and a 2016 and 2015 RWA RITA® finalist and 2014 Bookseller’s Best nominee who lives (and writes!) by the mantra that food is love. Kimberly resides in Virginia with her wildly patient husband and their three daughters.

  Be sure to keep in touch with Kimberly on her newsletter, where you can find exclusive excerpts, cover reveals, contests, and other giveaways!

  Also by Kimberly Kincaid

  Want to check out the hot firefighters at Station Seventeen, along with Kimberly’s other books?

  DEEP TROUBLE (Station Seventeen prequel, as part of Liliana Hart’s MacKenzie family)

  SKIN DEEP (Station Seventeen book one)

  Cross Creek Series, from Montlake

  CROSSING HEARTS (book one)

  The Line Series

  LOVE ON THE LINE (book one)

  DRAWING THE LINE (book two)

  OUTSIDE THE LINES (book three)

  PUSHING THE LINE (book four)

  Or get all four books in a reduced price bundle.