The Finish Line (The Ravenhood, #3)

by Kate Stewart

She’s my mirror, my judge, and has revealed herself as my sole purpose. She brought direction back to my deadening soul when I lost my way, and she continues to guide me back, a star too bright to ignore, no matter how far I stray.

Any significant sum of every day I’ve spent on this Earth will always amount to her.

After forty-four years of life, I’m positive she’s the only thing I can’t live without. And for the next forty-four, I will never love another. She’s loved many. That’s the nature of who she is. It’s what shaped her, but I’ve been greedy with my heart, and it has one sole owner. Nothing has, or could ever, compare to what she stirs inside of me.

“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.

“You’ve always been mine. I’ve had protective eyes on you since you were eleven years old, Cecelia, no matter how I felt about you. Maybe I deserved the hell those weeks were not knowing, but there will never be a time in your life you’re not under my protection. I failed you once, and I’ll do everything in my fucking power not to fail you again. Believe me, by the time I arrived yesterday, I made every effort to make sure you had no one but me coming for you.”

“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.”

“The way I see it, there are bad men capable of doing bad things, and then there are good men capable of doing bad things for good fucking reasons.” He looks at me pointedly. “You’re one of those.”

‘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.’”

If we do this, really do this, you need to know, if they ever get to you, the most valuable thing in my fucking life, it’s game over for me, Cecelia. End of.

I can’t walk away from you again, I can’t push you away again, and I never will, but you can order me away. If that’s your decision, I’ll respect it, because Cecelia, there’s a very real chance you could die for loving me, and I can only promise to try to keep you safe.”

“I’ve got plenty of prime years left,” he scoffs, lifting me onto his lap so I can feel his growing erection, “and when the grey comes in, I’m going to let myself go. Eat fried chicken and drink whole milk.” “Ah, well, I have no say in this? I’ll be stuck with a chunky chicken-fried Frenchman?” “You will love me anyway,” he says in his thick brogue, again nestling into my neck. “Even if I’m fat and grey.”

“Trésor, I want to Halloweenie with you and Thanksgiving with you, and Christmas with you, but—” I can’t help my giggle. “Halloweenie?” “Yes, with you.” “Hallow-weenie. That’s what you’re saying, right?” “Yes.” The line creases in his forehead. “That’s what I said.” “Tobias, there is no Halloweenie.” “Yes, there is,” he insists. “My mother said it all the time.” I snort. “Tobias, it’s just Halloween.”

I’m his first girlfriend and his only love. The truth of that sinks in as I stroke his chest through his thermal. Being a part of his firsts will never get old, no matter how big or small. It’s painfully obvious he’s missed a lot of living, and because of that, there’s a sort of innocence about him that’s still there, despite his age and the type of life he’s led up to this point. It wasn’t purposeful. It’s just how it happened. And the truth of that is so alluring that I can’t help but burrow deeper into him, pulling him closer to me.

“Ma chatte. Mon corps. Ma femme. Mon cœur. Ma vie.” My pussy. My body. My woman. My heart. My life.

The renewed connection between us feels molecular, and it hurts as it heals. I’m certain that if God granted me only one minute of life on this earth, I would want it to be this minute, this moment with him, where I know exactly why I’m alive and who for.

“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.”

“Har, har. And you think you’re so easy to deal with?” “Non. I’m the devil you chose.” “And who am I?” “You’re the angel who constantly stabs me in the ass with my own pitchfork.”

After years of resistance, of shoving compulsion aside, for them, for us, of keeping all the weaknesses I was susceptible to at bay, I wasn’t going to deny myself another fucking minute. And with one taste of her, I discovered freedom.

“I’m the man who would step in front of a bullet for either one of you, no questions asked, but I’m also the man who held your fucking hands before I shaped them into fists. I’m the same man—up until I met her—who put you both above everyone else. But right now, who am I right now? I’m the man who loves her enough to not let anyone or anything in front of her.”

I saw the fear in your eyes. Fear for the parts of her you’ll never have. The part that belongs to me, the other to your brother. Claim her all you want, mark her, piss all around her, but you’ll never have her fully. Not. Fucking. Ever. You’ll always be sharing her with us, no matter what you fucking do. You’ll never possess her the way your thief’s soul needs to own her. And you get to live with that. We all get to live with that.”

“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.”

“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 she and I have always been ill-fated, star-crossed in every imaginable way. In the end, I chose her, instead of suffering the wait without her.

“We loved with a love that was more than love.” —Edgar Allan Poe

“No man on earth has ever loved a woman more than I love you. I’ll prove this every day for the rest of our lives. I love you more than any cause, any ambition. The sight of your face over any other on earth.”

“And I’ve earned your trust?” “Yes.” “Your loyalty?” “Yes.” “I’ve earned your faith?” “Yes.” “I’ve earned your heart?” “Wholly.” “Your body is mine?’ “Yours. Only yours,” she swears. I push the ring onto her finger. “Make me king?”

“You’ll never be alone again. You’ll never be alone. I promise you. It was never my heart, Tobias. It was yours.”

“I guess what I’m really asking is, can you keep a secret?”