The Finish Line (The Ravenhood, #3)

by Kate Stewart

“I was never really insane except upon occasions when my heart was touched.” —Edgar Allan Poe

“No matter how we came to be, we were and still are. You stole my heart, and you let me love you with it, and you made damn sure I knew where its home was.”

Trying to reason with love is fucking pointless. It doesn’t care about your reasons, right or wrong. Love has no regard for circumstance, nor does it give a fuck what state it puts you in. It’s a relentless and unforgiving emotion that will never let you lie to yourself.

“I will kill anyone who threatens you. Anyone. I will fucking end them, Cecelia. I won’t think twice, and I won’t lose sleep over it.”

“And so, I would very much appreciate it if you would stop fucking looking at my future as if she may be yours. The answer is no, Greg, she won’t be dining with you.”

“Don’t disrespect women, period. They’re twice as evolved as most men will ever be. Don’t take your shit out on them, either. It’s a sign of weakness, and they aren’t punching bags. They’re a sanctuary, and you need to figure that out quick.”

there are bad men capable of doing bad things, and then there are good men capable of doing bad things for good fucking reasons.”

Time itself is as fucking merciless as love is—no boundaries or ceasefire.

‘Don’t ever count on a man to realize his wrongs on your emotional timeline ’cause men always take way longer to come around and deal with their feelings. They’re emotionally stunted.’”

“I find it helps to be in the know, without anyone else knowing.”

I’ll always want him. That’s a given. My body, heart, soul, all that makes me who I am, will forever ache for him whether he’s near or far.

And she loved, and still loves me, despite it all.

It’s a question that plagues me often, the existence of the afterlife, and has since my parents died. A question I struggle with daily, mostly due to guilt. Because if we are truly looked upon, and those who’ve passed are able to hear us, my confession is this— I haven’t spoken a word to my brother since he died. Every day I wonder if he waits for word from me. And even with the guilt that he might be waiting, I can’t find the words. I don’t know if I ever will.

“You say you don’t like my perception of you, Frenchman, but my perception isn’t skewed. I love all parts, all sides of you, good and bad. This thing between us is still new. We aren’t going to come out perfect straight out of the gate. But all of you gets all of me, my stubborn King, always.”

How can you ask me for what you won’t give?”

“Nothing about us is a coincidence. You should know that by now. Life may have a fucked-up sense of humor for pairing us together, and all outside forces may have deserted us, but if there was ever evidence of two people fucking fated to be together, star-crossed or not, it’s us.”

The buzz in my veins no longer exists due to gin or the endless orgasms from hours earlier. It’s him. This buzz is all him, us.

“I’m glad that you loved him, and I’m glad he knew what it felt like to be loved by you before he died, and it’s because of the way you love, Cecelia.”

“But for him, for that man, I’ll do it. I’ll be there when he fucks up so badly he can’t celebrate how good he is or what he’s done. I’ll be there whenever he doubts himself and our relationship suffers because of those doubts. I’ll be there with my hair done, and my lipstick on, in my best heels, with my head held high on his darkest days, because that’s what he needs. And I don’t want him changing. I don’t want him to stop being who he is, not ever, not for me, and not for any baby we make.” She turns her gaze to me. “But I will use the tips of these heels to pierce and pin his brass balls down if he ever stops giving me what I need.”

What hurts you, hurts me. What scares you, scares me,” I murmur to him as he runs his nose along my jaw. “If we fail,” I assure him, “we’ll fail together. You’ll never be alone again. Not ever.”

she’s shown me, repeatedly, the beauty in a bare, stripped heart.

I can’t help but be grateful for the road that took us here, to this point. A point of appreciation that’s only been made sweeter because of the nature of the road we traveled.

He told me once his admiration for me stems from the fact that I’ve always been vocal about my heart—while he’s carefully hidden his to protect those he loves. And it’s here, with me, where he’s finally unshackled himself from the obligation of being so selfless. It’s here with me that he’s freed himself to love the way he was meant to.

Change the rules.

I still don’t know what I believe about the afterlife. I hope, and mostly for those I love, that there is a place where nothing is ever left unsaid. That all we suffer to say to those we lose, there’s a place to confess—because I have so much to say.

ago. My wife, my sole purpose. She is enough, but am I enough for her?

her appeals to me and keeps me obsessed. The fact that I can converse with her about anything and everything only adds to her allure, even as we move toward a decade of being in each other’s company. She still fascinates me. Still stirs a thirst I can’t quench.