They say a cop is sixty to seventy-five percent more likely to get a divorce. As a Captain with Gainesville, Florida’s, Police Department, I can attest to just how accurate that statistic is. I’m currently getting a divorce from wife number three. And I’ll fight her with everything I have if she thinks for a single second she has a chance of taking our teenage son from me. Not with her inability to act like a responsible adult or make rational decisions. But of course, she won’t give up without a fight. It’s the only thing she’s good at, and she loves doing it with me. My divorce has raged on for over a year with no end in sight. Needless to say, I’ve sworn off love forever. I’m done. I’d rather focus on my career and son. With the woman I consider one of my best friends by my side, I’m pretty sure I’ll be able to accomplish that goal. She’s good at keeping me sane and focused on what matters. Soon, though, lines we’ve drawn between us blur. Walls we’ve built begin to crumble. Before either of us know what’s happening, we end up in a place neither of us intended. My bed. Just when I think my life can’t possibly get any more complicated, another mystery girl drops into our lap and knocks us both off our feet. I know immediately none of us are getting out of this with our hearts intact. As my own, personal battle rages on, will either of them come out on the other side with me? Or will the flames licking at our heels consume us?