by Kaye Kennedy
Burning for You
Book 5: Burning for the Bravest Series
Kaye Kennedy
Copyright © 2021 Black Cat Books
All rights reserved
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electric or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without prior permission from the publisher.
This book is a work of fiction. The characters, places and events in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real places or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
www.kayekennedy.com
Contents
Also by Kaye Kennedy
Note from the Author
Preface – Allie
I. The Past
1. Kyle
2. Allie
3. Kyle
4. Allie
5. Kyle
6. Allie
7. Kyle
8. Allie
9. Kyle
10. Allie
11. Kyle
12. Allie
13. Kyle
14. Allie
15. Kyle
16. Allie
17. Kyle
18. Allie
19. Kyle
20. Allie
21. Kyle
22. Allie
23. Kyle
24. Allie
25. Kyle
26. Allie
II. The Present
27. Kyle
28. Allie
29. Kyle
30. Allie
31. Kyle
32. Allie
33. Kyle
34. Allie
35. Kyle
36. Allie
37. Kyle
38. Allie
39. Kyle
40. Allie
41. Kyle
42. Allie
43. Kyle
44. Allie
45. Kyle
Epilogue – Declan
Acknowledgments
Also by Kaye Kennedy
About the Author
Burning for You
Sometimes, first love is better the second time around.
Kyle
I was four when I met Allie Dupree.
Ten when I stopped thinking she had cooties.
Fourteen when I realized I was in love with her.
And eighteen when I finally told her.
Then I never saw her again. I also never forgot her. And my heart never let her go.
Sixteen years after she’d disappeared without a word, she's back and there's no way in hell I'm letting her get away again. Especially because there are still burning embers of what we had. And, at the very least, I think I deserve some answers.
Allie
Returning to New York had never been a part of my plan. But having to watch my ex-husband move on with his pregnant fiancée before the ink had even dried on our divorce papers had made staying in Michigan impossible.
The odds of running into Kyle Hogan in Manhattan were one in three-million. But sure enough, my first month back, I came face-to-face with the one person I’d never wanted to see again.
What had happened sixteen years ago had ruined my life, and Kyle can never find out that secret. I won't let it destroy him, too.
Will their old flame be enough or will it come back to burn them? Again.
For my Fairy Godmothers
Thank you for your unwavering support. No matter how crazy my ideas may get, you always have faith in me. Love you both a million.
Also by Kaye Kennedy
Burning for the Bravest Series
If you like alpha males with soft centers who love hard and make love harder, then this series featuring New York City firefighters is for you!
Burning for More - Dylan & Autumn
Burning for This - Jesse & Lana
Burning for Her – Ryan & Zoe
Burning for Fate – Jace & Britt
Burning for You – Kyle & Allie
Burning for Love – Declan & Gwen
Releasing March 18, 2021
Burning for Trouble - Coming Spring 2021
Burning for Christmas - Keith & Brielle
Standalone set in the same world
Note from the Author
I can’t thank you enough for choosing to read Kyle and Allie’s love story. By far, this has been the story my readers, my editor, and even I have been most anticipating in this whole series, thus far. I’m confident that this story will deliver on your expectations, and then some.
This book has wrecked me! I've laughed just as much as I've cried and I hated writing The End because I didn't want it to end! You can definitely expect more appearances by Kyle and Allie in future books.
This has been the story I've most enjoyed writing and also the one that has put me through the ringer most. I'm talking snotty crocodile tears that keep me up at night. The struggles hit home for me in a lot of ways, but it's also this beautiful story of transforming tragedy into strength, making this novel a powerful punch to the emotional gut.
And don't even get me started on how much I love Kyle. I wish he was real and I wish I was Allie...just saying (sorry hubby). Neither of them are perfect, but they are perfect for each other. Trust me when I say we all need a Kyle in our lives!
Honestly, I'm going to have a hard time topping this one, but I am absolutely up for the challenge!
If you’re new to me, here’s a fun fact: I was a firefighter in a previous chapter of my life, until an injury sustained in a house fire put an end to that. I was actually the third generation of firefighters in my family. I grew up with a father who is now an ex-chief, and I told myself that I would never date a firefighter…but then I fell in love with my lieutenant.
After seven years together, we parted ways, but I took away a plethora of knowledge about the inner workings of the FDNY (that’s the New York City Fire Department). When I decided to start publishing, I knew I wanted to write from experience and that’s how the Burning for the Bravest series came to be.
I knew I could accurately depict the job, having done it myself, as well as the operations of the FDNY. Plus, the stereotype of firemen being sexy comes from somewhere, right? In this series, I stick as close to reality as possible, but I have used some creative freedom for the sake of the stories.
In this book, I’ve drawn from real-life experiences with two key fire call scenes (Chapters 27 and 43). Keep that in mind, especially when you’re reading that last one.
This series is best read in order, as your favorite characters will continue to make appearances, so if you haven’t read book one: Burning for More, I highly suggest you start there.
Any parallels found here to actual people or places are purely coincidental, as this is a work of fiction. You may notice I refer to some places that actually exist, but what I say about them is purely my opinion and I don’t stay completely true to reality.
TRIGGER WARNING: If you don’t like spoilers, then you can stop reading now and dive straight into the book. Last chance. You sure you want to keep reading?
Yes?
You’re positive?
Really, really sure?
Okay, I warned you…
SPOILERS: This book has a character who has to deal with fertility issues. It also confronts loss and grief.
I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it!
Hugs & Happily Ever Afters,
Preface – Allie
As I turned the key in the lock at my apartment, the wine practically called my name. I’d had a day. One of my kindergartener’s had had an accident in his pants, leaving a pu
ddle under the activity table. We’d taken a second recess so that the janitorial staff could clean it, and getting my students’ already short attention spans back after that had been nearly impossible. While I loved working with the younger kids, they were particularly skilled at testing my patience.
After work, I’d gone to my Pilates class where I’d gotten my zen back, but on the Subway ride home, that had been obliterated. I’d been scrolling through social media and got smacked in the face by a photo my former sister-in-law had posted. My ex-husband and his much younger new wife smiled obnoxiously, both of their hands on her pregnant belly. Fucking perfect.
I opened the fridge to get the bottle of chardonnay only to be disappointed. I’d forgotten I’d finished it the night before. “Dammit,” I huffed. Standing there with my hands on my hips, I tried to decide whether my desire to curl up on the couch was strong enough to forego wine. Did I mention my ex-husband’s wife was pregnant?
I snatched my keys off the counter and checked myself in the mirror by the door. I’d left my chocolate-brown hair in a ponytail after class, so I tugged on the hair tie and shook out my long locks. There were dark circles beneath my honey-colored eyes, but I couldn’t be bothered to refresh my makeup, so I left straight for the liquor store wearing my yoga pants, track suit zip up, and sneakers. Thankfully, the store was only a couple of blocks away, so I didn’t have to go far. After sixteen years in Michigan, I was still very much adjusting to being back in New York. It had only been a month, but something about it felt right.
The bustle of Manhattan made it easy to get lost in a crowd, which had been exactly what I’d needed after leaving behind my life in Ann Arbor. New Yorkers don’t give a shit about the strangers passing by on the streets. They’re not gossiping behind your back and smiling to your front. Sure, the streets smell like exhaust, garbage, and urine layered with the sweetness of roasted nuts and the saltiness of soft pretzels and hot dogs, but there was something oddly comforting about it.
While perusing the wine aisles at the store, I thought maybe I’d try something different, but in the end, I grabbed my go-to chardonnay. A deep voice called my name, shooting a chill up my spine. “Allie?”
No, no, no. This can’t be happening.
Out of the three million people who crammed onto the island on a daily basis, I somehow managed to enter the same liquor store as the one person I'd hoped to never see again. Life could be cruel.
I glanced up and turned toward him. My mouth hung open, but I struggled to come up with words. Kyle Hogan. My childhood best friend who I'd selfishly abandoned sixteen-years before. The wine bottle fell from my hand and hit my foot, but the pain hardly registered.
In many ways, he looked the same. He was still a big, muscular guy with those captivating crystal blue irises. His hair was cropped short in a military style and he had lines around his eyes that showed every one of his thirty-four-years.
I fought the urge to run into his arms and tell him how much I'd missed him and how sorry I was because certainly he hated me. "Kyle," I managed to choke out. "Hi."
He blinked several times as though he was trying to decipher if I was an apparition. I was having the same thought. As I stared into his eyes, I got a glimpse of what was beneath his rugged exterior, and I saw the boy who’d loved me in our youth. He was my biggest what if? in life. The boy who might have been my forever…if only…
Part I
The Past
Kyle
Age 4
Is there anything better than a swing set? As a kid, it was the closest thing to flying. Head back, feet in the air, wind on your face, stomach in your throat. Flying. The playground was only a few blocks from our house and Mom walked us up there almost every day during the summer. My little brothers, Dylan and Jesse, were in the stroller, but I was old enough to walk by myself as long as I held onto Mom when we crossed the streets. When we arrived at the playground I was allowed to run, and every single time, I bypassed the slide, monkey bars, and seesaw as I charged straight for the swings. There were four in total and two of them we're excessively squeaky, so if you wanted the good ones, you had to be quick when one opened up. And I saw an opening.
My butt landed in the swing seconds before some other kid. I was faster. It was a tough place that playground. Not for the weak. There was a girl beside me on the other good one and she looked to be about my age. Her chocolate-brown hair was braided against her scalp and it was clipped to the side with a red bow. She had on black leggings with red polka dots and a Minnie Mouse t-shirt. This was gonna be too easy, I thought to myself.
I pumped my legs and got swiftly off the ground, then said to the girl, "Wanna race?"
"Race?"
"Yeah. See who goes highest."
She shrugged. "Okay."
I worked my knees faster, inching further and further from the ground. Back and forth. Up, down, and up again. I got so high in the air that the chains jerked. No way a sissy girl would get as high as me. A squeal made me turn my head and to my surprise that girl was right beside me, neck and neck, closer and closer to the top bar. And she was laughing.
"Allie, that's high enough," a woman's voice called out.
"But, Mom," the girl beside me protested.
"No buts."
The girl groaned.
"Same goes for you, Kyle," my mom said from the bench where she was sitting holding my new baby brother, Jesse.
It was my turn to grumble.
As we lost our momentum, the girl asked, "So who won?"
Truth? It was a tie, but I wasn't gonna tie with a girl. "Me. You came down first."
"Not fair! I had to."
"Don't be a sore loser," I repeated the words my dad had said to me whenever he'd beat me at Hungry Hungry Hippos, which was my most favorite game.
"I'm not a loser." She pouted.
Arguing with a girl was boring me. I looked around to see if any of my friends were at the playground, but came up empty. My brother Dylan was sitting in the sand playing with some other kids. He was only two and couldn't go on the swings with me because they were for big boys only. He didn't seem to mind though. Dylan liked playing in the sand with his rake.
A boy, who appeared to be a little bit older than I was, walked past Dylan, bent down and picked up a handful of sand, then threw it in my little brother's face, making him cry. I fought to slow down my swing, so I could go defend my brother, but before I could get out of the seat, the girl had jumped off of hers—while in mid-air—and got in the bully's face.
"Say you're sorry," she demanded. Her hands were on her hips and she stood on her tippy toes to get closer to the kid.
He laughed at her. "No."
She poked the boy in the chest with her finger. "Yes. You're a mean bully and you can't throw sand."
I charged over, then bent down beside my brother and wiped his face with my NASCAR t-shirt that my dad had gotten me on a trip he’d taken a few months earlier. "Don't cry, Dyl. I'll fix it." I got most of the sand off and his tears subsided. "Better?" I asked.
He nodded, his pouty lip still quivering.
A smug smile crossed the bully’s lips as he said, "What are you gonna do about it? You're a stupid girl."
I hopped to my feet, ready to put the boy in his place, but she beat me to it. Literally. Her fist connected with the boy's belly, knocking him onto his butt.
The parents all converged on us, demanding to know what had happened. The bully pointed at the girl. "She punched me," he whimpered.
"Allison Dupree is that true?" the girl's mother asked in horror.
The girl proudly crossed her arms over her chest and smiled. "Yup. He's a bully. He threw sand in the little boy's face and he wouldn't say sorry, then he called me a stupid girl."
The boy's mom asked, "Did you throw sand?"
He shook his head. "It was on accident."
"No," I shouted. "I saw you pick it up and throw it at my little brother."
He tried to protest again, but his mother grabbe
d him by the arm and dragged him away. "You have to stop doing this, Robbie," she said as they left the playground.
The girl's mom got down on her knees and looked her daughter in the eyes. "You can't punch people, Allie, even if they're being bullies. You get an adult and let us take care of it. Understood, young lady?"
She huffed. "Yes, Mama." Then she sat on the ground next to Dylan. "Can I play with you?"
My little brother handed her his rake—his most prized possession that he never let me play with—and I sat down on his other side.
The girl dragged the prongs through the sand. "I’m Allie."
"I'm Kyle. This is Dylan."
She looked up from the sand and said to me, "Wanna be my friend?"