The Finish Line (The Ravenhood, #3)

by Kate Stewart

With us, looking is love, fighting is love, fucking is love, and even now, while we muddle through our collective but distinctly different fears, it’s love.

“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.

“What we did was not dating; don’t downplay what’s brought us back to this point. We fell in love, and it devastated us and everyone around us to the point we destroyed lives, including our own. And I’m to blame. But here we are, and we still love each other, more so now because we’re wise enough to know what we’ve lost. It’s not going to take a day to get over the things I’ve said and done, the lies I’ve told, or the shit we’re going to have to work through. But I’m owning my part, the way you asked me to, the way you need me to, the way I need to. And all I’m hoping for is that you ask me what you need to, so I can own up to it, and we don’t waste any more time.”

“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.”

So much so I had to leave my own bed to get away from him. From his smell of citrus and spice. From any familiarity that might bring me comfort. Because fuck that, I refuse to make it easy for him.

Dominic would have loved it here.

I’ve never killed a man in cold blood or out of jealousy. Something tells me today should not be the day I get to check it off my list.

“The first time I saw her, she was eleven.” They both turn to me, but I continue typing, not sparing a glance at either one of them. “She was nothing but a little girl, but she was mine to protect from this fucked-up world. Mine to look out for. Mine to care for.”

“She came in later like a fucking wrecking ball and obliterated the image of the little girl I remembered. I claimed her then as mine to have, mine to touch, mine to possess, fucking mine.”

“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.”

“Has Cecelia got you?” she asks in a sickly-sweet voice. “By the balls,” I mutter, shooting off the email. “Pardon?”

“Well, then, do you have one reason why she should take you back?” Marissa is standing a foot behind me, and I can feel the rest of the sparsely-filled café leaning in on bated breath. Small fucking towns. Cecelia collects a tub of dirty dishes when I finally speak up in a shitty defense. “I stopped lying yesterday.” I barely get it out before she passes through the double doors.

She’s impossible not to love.

recall some of yesterday’s conversation in the parking lot. Fuck being okay with whatever ending we get. That’s not good enough. I want her happy. I want our ending happy. That’s what I decide as I watch her interact with the people in her café. I want her smiling about thoughts of us before she ever greets a stranger.

“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.”

She never wanted her father’s money. She only wanted his love.

‘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.’”

“So, you’re playing mouse with that lion? No offense, but it looks like he could swallow you whole.”

won’t pretend to know how I hurt you or what it felt like when I did, Cecelia. But I do know how much it hurt me, and that’s enough to know I deserve your anger and caution. But right now, I need you too goddamn much to stay away when you’re right fucking here in front of me. When you are who you are, which is, in case you’re wondering, the other fucking half of me. I’m sorry for the things I’ve done, but it’s time you let me show you how much.”

“She’s bleeding me dry, Sean. My tolerance, my patience, all of it.”

“If four dozen roses don’t help, honey, you might want to think about something shinier.” “Noted.”

I’ve been selfish, but I had my reasons. There’s always a reason for everything I do. And if that’s our story, then know I’m here to give you, us, a better ending.

“It’s tragically ironic how well I know your pain because maybe if I didn’t, I wouldn’t be able to look at you now and tell you I forgave you a long time ago. It was an accident. I felt how deeply you regretted it the day we met. Your mistake changed my life in an irreparable way, but it also shaped me into the man I am today—for better or worse—a man who loves your daughter. It’s crazy that somehow, despite what you took away, both you and Roman gifted me the only person in the world capable of loving me in a way that fills me with so much peace. Cecelia is my home and my reason for trying to forgive myself, and she needs to be your reason too. From what I’ve gathered, you’ve punished yourself long enough, and it’s affected you and your relationship with your daughter. It’s not too late for either of us, Diane. Cecelia is making me believe it.”

“What you did today,” she says softly, “for my mother, was . . . indescribable, so . . . selfless, and one of the most incredible humane acts I’ve ever witnessed, which only made me love you more.”

“What do you really expect from me, Cecelia? Did you expect me to come back to you a completely reformed man with all the answers, who makes all the right moves? I’m still the same man—the villain. And I’ll always play dirty to protect you and keep you safe. I’ll consider making any allowance you need to try and make this work, but you’re truly fucking mistaken if you think I’ll shy away from the ruthless, unforgiving, and cruel parts that still exist in me when need be. You asked for the man you fell for . . . well there’s two sides to him, and neither are going anywhere.” I cut my hand through the air. “End of.”

“Why can’t we just hate each other?” “Simple,” he murmurs. “We love each other too fucking much.”

“All I want, Mon Trésor . . . is to build a bonfire the size of Texas and burn all these goddamn pajamas. It’s all I’m living for.”

“Remember when—” “Everything,” he says softly, flexing his fingers through my hair. “I remember everything, Cecelia. Every word you said, every look you gave me. Your three kinds of laughs, the details of your dreams, the way your nostrils flare when you’re starting to get pissed. The sting of your slaps, the salt in your tears, the fit of your breasts in my hand. The feel of your mouth, the taste of your pussy,” he murmurs, sliding his thumb along my jaw, “so which part do you need me to remind you of?”

“You want to do Halloween with me?” He nods emphatically, turning back to me, a frown in place when he sees the tears in my eyes. “What’s wrong?” “I love you,” I blurt out. “I’m sorry I’ve made this so hard on you.” He searches my eyes. “No, Trésor, I deserv—” “To be happy. We both do.”

It was fall of that year that I showed up at the park, a bag of his favorite things in hand, to discover our pieces still in play from the week before. And I knew he was gone. But what he left me with was a sense of family I hadn’t felt from anyone but Dom since my parents died. I cherish that time we had together.

But for whatever reason he reached out—it was worth it to me just to know him.

I haven’t spoken a word to my brother since he died.

“All right, boyfriend 101, even if it’s terrible, or I look fat in my jeans, lie to me.” “Now you want me to lie?” “You are such an ass.”

If it’s war this motherfucker is after, my peacekeeping days are long over.

“This rage you’re feeling, the helplessness you feel right now, the fear of not knowing what’s coming, feeling exposed in a way that fucking humiliates and infuriates you, leaving you powerless,” he grunts out, each word more pained in delivery, “is exactly what I feel every time you’re threatened, and I don’t know by what or who, and yet you refuse my fucking protection.”

“It’s past time you face it and accept it. I’m not the only one he saved that night, Tobias. You have to accept his sacrifice. Even if you’re angry about it, you have to accept that his love for you was just as strong, and you have to accept that he forgave you and loved you enough to want you to be happy. You have to unshackle yourself from this guilt, or you’ll never be able to accept the rest of the gift he gave you.”

“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.”

I’ve just been schooled by my queen.