The Finish Line

by Stewart , Kate

  “We weren’t together long,” I offer and cringe when I see it does shit to help.

  “Neither were we if we’re keeping score and if dating is what you want to call it.”

  “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.”

  She sits back on her heels and drops her gaze. “Fine. Then start with what you promised. The truth. Why did you come back now?”

  “A lot of it has to do with carrying out plans I set into motion over twenty years ago, especially Tyler’s position in the White House. I didn’t expect it to take so fucking long, and the longer it took, the more I was sure I had to get everything off my plate in order to do this right. I had to heavily vet the few I trusted to take over with Sean, so you and I could…” I groan in frustration. “The last thing I wanted to do was come after you and turn around and leave while we were sorting ourselves out…” Anger surges at the hell I went through after she left. “And you disappeared for seven fucking weeks before I found you.”

  “I had every reason to.”

  “For seven weeks, I went off the rails because you didn’t leave a trace,” I clench my fists on my thighs in an attempt to temper my anger. “You made sure of it.”

  “Cash,” she supplies. “It goes a long way, as you well know. That’s why this house and the diner legally belong to my mother.” She stops her digging. “Maybe I didn’t want to be found.”

  “I was losing my fucking mind with worry.”

  “I was no longer yours to worry about. You made sure of it.”

  “You’ve always been mine. I’ve had 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.”

  Her face drains of all color. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Exactly what you think it means. Another reason it took me so long to get to you. Aside from kicking a hundred things into motion so I could be here, I had bodies to find and bury.” My sole focus being Roman’s old business partner, the motherfucker who sent Miami, turning the confrontation into a bloodbath.

  Her mouth parts as her eyes widen, incredulous. “Jerry? You went after him?”

  I nod and don’t miss her flinch.

  “Tobias, what did you do?”

  “I made sure he’ll never be a threat to you again.”

  “You said you trusted me.”

  “I do. I didn’t trust him. He’s as fucking corrupt as they come. Retaliation was in the works. I saw it for myself. I was tracking both his correspondence and calls closely. He’s always been a threat to you. If I had gotten a handle on things when I should have…” I clear my throat to stop myself, “I would have taken care of him a lot sooner.”

  She flicks imploring eyes to mine. “What do you mean?”

  Not yet. We’re not there yet, Tobias. One thing at a time.

  “I got a confession before I buried him. He was the one who sent Miami. Do you want the details?”

  She swallows and darts her eyes away. “No.”

  “You are never to disappear on me again.” Her stare is a million miles away before it finally flits back to me, the toll of the first of my confessions heavy in her eyes.

  I level out my voice, intent that through her anger, she hears me. Adamant she knows what she’s in for should the situation ever present itself. “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.”

  She bites her lip, dragging her gaze over my body before turning her attention back to her flower bed. I crouch down next to her as the wind lifts some loose hair from her shoulder and I brush the rest away from her face.

  “Does that scare you?”

  “No.”

  “That’s because you do know who I am. We are not strangers, Cecelia. Far from it.”

  She doesn’t argue that. “Even so, you should know by now. I don’t do well with orders.”

  “On this, I don’t give a fuck. Punish me, but never that way. Don’t run from my protection. I’ll make you promise me that one day and save it for a different fight that will be happening sooner rather than later. I can’t risk…,” I resist the urge to rip her from the ground, shake some sense into her and demand she make the promise now, but I know better. It’s my selfish need, my own emotions that demand it. Aside from that, she’ll never be tamed. It’s part of my attraction to her, even if it scares the hell out of me.

  A beat of silence passes. “How did you find me?

  “Sean. He knew where you were the whole time. After I exhausted every resource, I finally went to him to ask for help. He was expecting me.”

  I see it the second she puts it together.

  “There’s a tracking device on the Camaro.”

  “He installed it before he gifted it to you. He had you followed and put two permanent birds on you the minute you landed here. He knew I was losing my shit, but he wanted to make sure I got my wake-up call. I sniffed out his bullshit when I asked him for help, and the smug bastard finally put me out of my misery when I told him of my plan.”

  “Which was?”

  “You.”

  She shivers in her hoodie.

  “Let’s go inside and talk. Your lips are turning blue.”

  “I’m fine.” She harrumphs, wiping the loose dirt from her gloves. “You bastards, even when I did your bidding and kept your secrets, you never once believed I could take care of myself.”

  “He was sincere about the gift, Cecelia. Dom would have wanted you to have it, but no matter how this works out between us, we’re always going to protect you. Always. That’s not debatable.”

  “Yeah? Well, who’s going to protect me from you?”

  Right hook.

  I swallow. “You don’t need it. I’m at your mercy.”

  “Until when?”

  Still crouched beside her, I place a thumb under her chin and turn her head my way. “I’m in this, Cecelia. I would give anything to go back, to change the things I did. To be the man you needed me to be, but it’s never been as simple as giving in to how I feel about you. And it’s not any easier now. After what went down, after all you went through, I had to allow you the chance at a normal life, to escape this one.” Her frown is deep-set when I lift her chin. “And after years away, you did start a different life. You stayed away. Purposely, even with the excuse of your father’s death to come back, you didn’t return to Triple Falls. You went to college, graduated, and were engaged to be married to another man. You had a ring on your finger. When you came back, you were selling the company. You were ridding yourself of all ties, from Triple Falls, and from me. I had to respect your decision. You were thriving. At least that’s what I thought, at first.”

  “And after?”

  “I explained this to you. It was a culmination of reasons, one in particular, and I’ll tell you everything, but,” I shake my head, “I need time for that. Not a lot, but I swear I’ll tell you.”

  “You don’t think I can handle it?”

  “I think you can handle anything,” I say honestly. “It’s just too much to sort through right now. You haven’t slept. I doubt you’ve
eaten.”

  She stands and wipes her pajamas free of debris, and I take a step forward, but she takes one back, jerking her head. “Don’t.”

  “Why? Because you know exactly how it’s going to end up once you let me touch you?”

  “Love and sex solve nothing, remember?”

  I run my hand through my hair, and she crosses her arms, satisfaction clear in her eyes. She’s fully expecting me to give up at some point. It’s the opposite of progress, and she puts a voice to it.

  “Giving up already?”

  “Stop it,” I snap. “It was just a dream. Did nothing I confessed to you yesterday make a difference?”

  “Yes and no, you just…,” she rubs a hand over her red nose, “you don’t belong here.”

  “Where do you picture me?”

  “You didn’t even bring a goddamned suitcase!” She fists her hands on her hips. “Where do you live now? Where are your belongings, Tobias?”

  “Packed in a truck with a driver waiting for my say so. Over half my wardrobe are suits that I don’t plan on fucking wearing anytime soon. I live here. Where you are is home. I made that clear yesterday. I know we can’t pick up where we left off—” I step forward, she steps back, and so the tango begins—the look on her face one of a wounded animal.

  “You’re lonely here, Cecelia. I did that. I’ve made you lonely again. You think I don’t know that? You gave up your fucking life for me, so I did the same. I did the only thing I could because I wanted you to take me seriously when I showed up with nothing but the clothes on my back.”

  She bites her bottom lip, her eyes drifting up and down my frame.

  “I gave up the only life I’ve known for over twenty years and most everything that had anything to do with it, to come here just for a chance to be with you again.”

  “You gave up clothes.”

  “I gave up control,” I counter. “Which is the hardest fucking thing for a man like me to do.” I step forward, and this time she doesn’t step back. I cup her face, her cheeks ice cold. “Because I want this, more than anything else. I want this, you, us.”

  “Just,” she lifts her hands to my wrists and grips them, intent on pulling them away. “Go back to bed. I need to think.”

  “No.”

  “Tobias—”

  “Fuck no. I’m not going to give you a chance to think of more reasons to hold a grudge against me.” I lean in. “What hurts you hurts me. There’s more to say.”

  “Not today.” She drops her eyes and shakes her head before pushing past me toward the house. That’s when I snap, rush her, and scoop her into my arms.

  “Put me down.”

  “No,” I murmur, nuzzling her neck, inhaling her scent, a scent so soothing it feels like coming home. But it’s short-lived because I feel her tensing in my arms.

  I bend to kiss her, and she turns her head.

  “Look at me, please,” I implore.

  “I hate you so much,” she whispers.

  “I know.”

  Her eyes lift to mine before dropping to my lips. “Plus rien ne nous séparera. Jamais.” Nothing will ever come between us. Never.

  Exhausted, no doubt by me, she drops her head to rest on my shoulder as I carry her inside, Beau hot on my heels until I kick the bedroom door closed in his face.

  “Don’t take your frustration out on my puppy,” she scolds as I walk into the bathroom and gently deposit her to stand in front of the shower.

  “Did you sleep at all?” I ask, turning on the faucet.

  She stands limp and doesn’t respond.

  “I’m sorry it took me so long,” I slowly lift the hoodie above her head along with her pajama top before gently pulling the tie from her hair. It falls heavy around her shoulders, and at the sight of it, I get hard.

  She’s sleep-deprived, shell shocked, and seems defeated, and I hate it. I want her fight, but her game is off. And that’s on me.

  “I had to come to you ready, Cecelia. I had to. Too many people depend on me. I had too many plates spinning. I had to plan my exit strategy and get my head together. I promise you, somehow I’ll make you understand.”

  “I doubt it.”

  “Those lies I told you when you were fighting so hard, they were my last,” I murmur, pressing a kiss to her temple as I unclasp her bra. Unable to help myself, I bend and pull a nipple into my mouth, and instantly her fingers tangle in my hair, the breath leaving her as she rips at me, full of resistance.

  Fighting her, I draw her other nipple into my mouth and suck, flicking my tongue over her silky flesh before lifting my eyes to hers. Her chest pumps with rapid breaths as she watches me, rapt but furious.

  “I need you,” I whisper before again pulling half her breast into my mouth, drawing a soft cry from her. Her chest glistens when I release her, her body becoming lax as I hold her firmly in place. “I need you, Cecelia. I need to make you come. I need to feel you stretch around my cock. I need to hear my name coming from your lips. But I need you more.”

  Kneeling, I tug down her pajama bottoms before slowly dragging her panties to join them on the floor. Eye level with her pussy, I press my lips to the top of it and inhale her scent, cock throbbing, begging to be set free.

  Unable to handle the need for a taste, I run my tongue along her slit as she digs her nails into my scalp, a choppy moan leaving her. I revel in the burn of the pain she’s inflicting, because she’s fighting, but not nearly hard enough. I pull away and gaze up at her. Her return stare full of blue fire.

  Neither of us can fight our draw, and we have never been able to, no matter how at odds we were. But I need more than her body’s submission to act.

  Standing, I run my thumbs along her jaw before briefly kissing her. She trembles with want. Her eyes imploring, while her lips refuse to move, to ask for what she needs, and it’s fucking agony pulling away.

  “Shower. I’ll make breakfast. We’ll talk more.”

  She nods, her gaze losing focus, to another time—a time where, no doubt, I’ve hurt her because that’s all I’ve ever done.

  “No one hates me more for what I’ve done to you, than me,” I admit before I fully release her and leave her in a room full of steam.

  She’s been on autopilot since she got out of the shower, mindlessly sipping her coffee while feeding Beau her bacon. It’s not the breakfast I pictured we’d have. But I set my hopes high.

  “Ask me anything,” I urge from where I’m seated at her four-seat kitchenette. She bites into her French toast and downs her coffee before I shove the first bite in my mouth.

  Our eyes meet as I cough it down while a faint smile twists her lips.

  “Putain,” Fuck. I grab her plate and mine and walk them over to the sink while continuously trying to clear my throat.

  She speaks up behind me with a little mirth in her tone. “It was a good effort.”

  “I’ve never cooked with cinnamon.” I shove the crisped bread into the garbage disposal and click it on. The slide of her chair alerts me to what I knew was coming. Shutting off the sink, I turn and grip the counter behind me. “You can’t take a day?”

  She slowly shakes her head, and I accept the lie.

  “All right, give me five.”

  “What?” She frowns, her plump lips twisting in displeasure, and it might as well be a knife in my chest.

  “I’m coming with you.”

  “To my café?”

  “I need to borrow the Camaro.”

  “Where are you going?”

  “I need a few things.”

  She nods to the keys on the counter and collects her purse. “I’ll be outside. Lock up.”

  She leans down to pet Beau and gives him an exaggerated kiss, and I’m instantly jealous.

  Age Eleven

  I glance at the clock when the front door slams, and a second later, Delphine cuts the music off. The clink of a bottle to glass in the kitchen tells me she’s not going to be driving us to school in a few hours, which means it’s up to me to m
ake sure we make it. Truancy will have us scrutinized, and we don’t need social services at our door, not with the state the house is in. And once again, I’ll have to be the one to clean it. It’s only been a few months since our parents died, the worst months of my life. Dom’s not getting any better. The happy kid he was has all but disappeared because of our aunt’s indifference and cruelty. She doesn’t have the motherly gene, and she’s made it clear, daily, that we’re an obligation she never wanted. But if she falls suspect by outsiders as unfit to parent us—which she is—we’ll be taken away, and I won’t have that. I won’t be separated from my brother.

  Deciding to get a little sleep, I set my cheap alarm hoping the batteries don’t die, and settle back into my mattress when I hear the unmistakable sound of my brother’s stifled sobs across the hall. Tossing my thin, itchy sheet off, I walk into Dominic’s room to see him lying on his stomach. His head is pressed into his pillow to muffle his cries, his shoulders shaking. Turning on his plastic lamp, I sit on the edge of his twin bed, and he freezes, fear in his eyes until he sees it’s me.

  “It’s okay, Dom. They’re gone. The party is over. Go back to sleep.” I cup his shoulder and feel his skin blazing through his thin pajama top. I turn him over, lift his shirt, and realize he’s covered in chickenpox.

  He stares down at his chest and stomach in fear. “I didn’t do anything.”

  “It’s not your fault. You have chickenpox.”

  “Am I going to die like Mama and Papa?”

  I grind my teeth at the ache in my chest. “No. They’ll itch for a while, but you only get them once.”

  “You had them too?”

  “Yes, and it made me stronger. I’ll get you some medicine to help the itch in the morning.”

  The door bursts open, and Delphine eyes us both.

  “What are you two doing awake?”

  I roll my eyes. “How could we sleep with all that noise?”

  “That’s grown-up business. Go back to bed.”

  “He’s got a fever and chickenpox.” She looks at Dominic warily as I lift his shirt for her to see. “He can’t go to school. They’ll send him home.”