“Kellan is acting weird.”

Okay, so it wasn’t the most graceful thing Isabella Moreno could have said to her closest group of girlfriends as they celebrated their weekly Girls’ Night In. Especially since one of them was his sister, three others worked with him in the tightest unit of first responders Remington had to offer, and the other two hung out with him after-hours on a very regular basis. But the words were the balls-out truth, and it had been bugging her for days.

Something was wrong with her boyfriend. And despite all her usual methods to get him to air out whatever might be bothering him, Kellan was only growing more serious and secretive by the day.

“Weird how?” Kylie asked, her dark brows tucking in concern from across the kitchen island. Not only was Kellan her brother, but there was probably a photo of the two of them in the dictionary beside the phrase thick as thieves. Her worry didn’t spill over into a full-blown pause, though, the simple gold band on her left hand glinting in the kitchen light as she dished up servings of chicken Parmesan that smelled as heavenly as they looked.

Isabella’s taste buds didn’t so much as twitch, and wasn’t that just a sure sign that whatever was going on with Kellan was a Very Big Deal. “He’s really quiet. Serious all the time. Not moody, just…like he’s stuck inside his head. And he’s been that way all week.”

“Have you asked him about it?” This from no-bullshit Kennedy, who walked over from the makeshift bar set up on the counter by the fridge to hand Isabella a glass of wine.

“Yep.” Isabella was pretty much no-bullshit herself. Occupational hazard of being a detective in the city’s most elite intelligence unit, and all. “He keeps saying he’s fine, but I’ve lived with him for nearly seven months. I’m saying this from a place of love, but the man is full of shit.”

“We haven’t gone on any really bad calls lately,” said Shae, sneaking a breadstick from the basket on the island before giving Isabella a reassuring smile. Shae and Kellan had been pulling on turnout gear and duking it out with fires together for the past two and a half years. If something at work had upset him, she’d almost certainly know.

“He does seem okay at the fire house,” Quinn agreed. The paramedic was such a caregiver, if anyone would notice a personality glitch at Station Seventeen, it would definitely be her. If neither Shae nor Quinn had picked up on anything, then Kellan’s weirdness was limited to when he was home.

Isabella took a long draw from her wine glass, even though she barely tasted the merlot she’d just sent down the hatch. She was glad something work-related wasn’t tangling with Kellan’s mind. Being a firefighter could be brutal, even on the most bulletproof of fortitudes. Add in Kellan’s past as an Army sniper, and his tendency to stuff down the bad things had the potential to swing to a not-healthy extreme.

But if work was status quo, that meant whatever was bugging him was personal. Related to the person around whom he’d been decidedly standoffish lately. Who—oh, by the way—would be her.

Shit. She was going to need more wine.

Isabella’s squad-mate, Addison, reached out from the spot where she stood beside her at the island and squeezed her arm. “I may not exactly be a relationship authority like these lovesick fools,” she started, only to be interrupted by three groans and one very loud protest.

“Hey! I’m not lovesick. Or a fool,” Kennedy pointed out, one pierced eyebrow disappearing beneath the heavy fringe of her black bangs to punctuate the claim. “I am completely love-free over here.”

“Oh, I’m totally lovesick.” Shae popped a bite of the breadstick past her ear-to-ear smile and made a so good face before continuing. “I know Capelli and I have only been together for five months, but we’re pretty disgusting if you want to get down to it. That doesn’t mean I’m a dumbass though.”

“Whoa, what’d I miss?” January asked, reclaiming her glass of wine as she re-entered the bustling kitchen from the hallway. “I swear, a girl can’t even go to the bathroom around here.”

“Kellan’s acting weird, and apparently Shae, Kylie, and I are dumbasses because we’re getting laid,” Quinn said, matter-of-factly scooping up the plate Kylie had just filled with her latest culinary masterpiece.

Addison’s laugh went all the way up to her dark brown eyes. “I didn’t say I wasn’t getting laid. Just that I don’t have a one-way ticket for the Love Boat.”

“I’m not getting laid,” Kennedy lamented, and Isabella frowned. Wait, when was the last time she and Kellan…

Oh hell, something really was bothering him.

“I must be the mother of all dumbasses then,” Kylie mused, although her smile said she was far more amused than offended. “I went and married the guy I’m sleeping with.”

Isabella shook her head. “You and Devon are the real deal, though. If anyone should be married, it’s you two.”

She might not be a romantic, necessarily, but Kylie and Devon’s small, simple ceremony last month had made sense to Isabella. They’d been together for nearly a year, and they’d known from the jump that they were meant to be together. Anyone who spent more than two minutes around them could see they were perfectly suited for each other, not to mention wildly in love. It was how she and Kellan were, too. Or, at least, how she’d thought they were, until he’d started pulling away from her last week without explanation.

Isabella’s stomach knotted, but thankfully, Addison reclaimed the conversation. “Okay, okay. I never said all that squishy soul mate stuff was a bad thing. I love a good happy ending, too. But even though I’m only an expert in the sex department”—she paused to waggle her dark blond brows, and Isabella had to laugh—“I’d guess Kellan’s just going through a temporary funk, that’s all.”

“You guys are an amazing couple. Plus, it’s pretty obvious he thinks you hung the moon,” January said, and Quinn and Shae both agreed by way of solid nods. Even Kennedy, who as a restaurant manager/bartender had either heard or overheard every pickup line in the universe and was therefore the biggest cynic in the group, nodded, too.

“Everyone goes through ups and downs, especially first responders.” The wine bottle clinked against the rim of Isabella’s glass as her friend topped it off with a darkly lipsticked smile. “I’ve seen enough of you guys at the Crooked Angel to know. If he says he’s okay, he’ll figure it out.”

“I’m sure you’re right,” Isabella said, the muscles in her shoulders relaxing slightly beneath her dark red T-shirt. Something might be going on with Kellan, but if it was major, he’d tell her. “I’m probably just reading into it too much.”

Addison polished off the last of the beer in her hand and forked over a huff of irony-laced laughter. “With our jobs, it’s hard not to analyze the details all the time. I go on dating websites and all I can do is set up police profiles in my head.”

“Okay, to be fair, some of the guys on those sites are total freaking creepers,” January pointed out, and Kennedy raised her glass of Patrón on the rocks.

“I’ll drink to that. The last guy who messaged me on one of those sites asked if he could lick my toes like lollipops. I’m not one to judge,” she added, “but talking fetishes five minutes into a text conversation feels like a bit much. Don’t even get me started on the guys who send unsolicited dick pics.”

Addison snickered. “I just send those guys pictures of my badge in return. It’s usually bigger.”

The laughter from all the women in the group lightened the mood. Everyone grabbed plates of chicken Parm, breadsticks, and the obligatory salad that would make them all feel as if they’d eaten one healthy thing, continuing the boisterous conversation as they moved to the stools at the breakfast bar on the opposite side of the kitchen. Although her friends had made her feel at least a tiny bit better, Isabella lingered at the island, taking a deep breath to try and clear her head once and for all.

“Hey,” Kylie said, and even though her voice had been far from loud, Isabella’s pulse still jumped. “You okay?”

“Oh! Yeah, mmm hmmm. I just, um…” Well, crap. Her plate was as full as her glass. She had zero excuses here. “I’m worried about this thing with Kellan.”

Kylie nodded, her blue gaze softening with understanding. “I know you are. But I also know my brother. He loves you.”

“I love him, too.” God, it was the most true thing Isabella had ever said. “I just don’t like not knowing what’s going on with him, you know?”

“Maybe you should tell him that,” Kylie offered. “I mean, I love him, but he’s not exactly a feelings-by-the-campfire kind of guy. He might just need a little nudge to talk.”

Isabella managed a small but genuine smile. “That’s true.” Kellan did love her. If she asked him point blank what was on his mind, he’d tell her. Even if he wanted to figure it out on his own.

She looked at her plate, guilt filling her chest. But Kylie just laughed. “Go,” she said, taking the plate from between Isabella’s fingers. “You’ll just be miserable until you do.”

“Are you sure?”

Kylie looked at her as if she’d lost every last one of her marbles. “Yes, I’m sure. I’ll tell everyone goodbye for you.” She tilted her head at the group clustered around the breakfast bar, which was now knotted in a heated Pratt versus Evans versus Hemsworth versus Pine debate.

“Thanks,” Isabella murmured, relief filling her chest. After quickly hugging Kylie, she slipped toward the door, keys in hand. The trip to the apartment she shared with Kellan was a short one, and ten minutes later, she was on the threshold.

“Okay.” She pulled in a deep breath to steady her suddenly pounding heart. “Here goes nothing.”

Isabella slid the key in the lock, calling out with her usual “it’s me” to reassure Kellan.

From the look on his face, it barely worked. “You’re home early,” he said, his eyebrows traveling toward his dark hairline in obvious surprise as he sprang to his feet from the spot where he’d been sitting on the couch.

“Is that okay?” Maybe he’d been counting on a little alone time, although he’d been on shift yesterday, so he’d had the place all to himself while she’d worked all day today.

“Sure.” One shoulder rose halfway beneath his black T-shirt. “You’re just never home this early from Girls’ Night In. Didn’t you have a good time?”

Oh God, they’d been reduced to small talk. Fuck it. “Truth? I didn’t. I was a little worried about you.”

“Me?” Genuine surprise flashed through Kellan’s blue stare, and he took a step back on the floorboards. “Why?”

Isabella’s breath shook slightly on her inhale. “You seem off lately. A little distant. I’m not trying to push,” she added. Ugh, she was babbling. “I just want you to know I’m here. You know, if you need to air anything out.”

For a minute, Kellan didn’t say anything, and for the first time in ages, she couldn’t read him. How could he be right there in front of her, yet so far away at the same time?

“I’m fine,” he finally said, following it up with a two-ton silence.

But she knew better, just like she knew if she pushed, he’d push back. “Okay,” she replied, slipping into the space between his arms to rest her head on his shoulder. “So tell me something about you.”

Kellan paused. From the beginning, this had been the way he’d gotten her to open up to him, by giving her a safe place to go at her own pace and say whatever she needed to say. Her pulse might be off to the races right now, her heart aching right along with it, but she could do this for him. She could let him know she’d be here when he was ready.

Tension moved through Kellan’s body like a current, his muscles tightening beneath her touch and his breath catching audibly as he exhaled and pulled back to look at her.

“I’m not really fine,” he said, sending shock and concern on a fast path through Isabella’s rib cage. Both must have shown on her face, because he quickly tacked on, “I’m not not fine. I mean, I’m not sick or in any bad headspace, or…oh, screw it. I can’t keep waiting.”

Okay, she was officially lost. “Babe, just talk to me. You can’t keep waiting for what?”

“To ask you to marry me.”