I open the closest piece of folded construction paper to see it’s a drawing. At the bottom of the page is a label in a teacher’s handwriting, Title—My Family—Dominic King—Age six. A lemon-yellow sun sits at the top right of the page finishing off a dark blue sky. Inside of one of the puffy clouds dead center is two stick figures labeled Maman, Papa. Below stands Tobias and Dominic in the middle of light-brown colored mountains. Tobias is much, much larger in size. He might as well be a giant compared to the way Dominic drew himself.
They’re holding stick hands, and I can clearly see the dynamic in the relationship—so much trust, love, and adoration. Dominic spent more time on Tobias’s details than he did on any other aspect of the drawing. And it’s because he loved him, idolized him, because Tobias was his world, his brother, his teacher, his mentor, and in essence, his father. Eyes stinging, I gaze on at the clear picture of devotion of one brother for another.
As much as I thought I knew about these men, as deeply as I’ve loved them and understood them as they were when I entered their lives, Tobias was right—there was an evolution that took place long before me, that didn’t include me, and had absolutely nothing to do with me. And these are the times for which Tobias grieves most, for a relationship I only got a rare glimpse of before tragedy struck. The end to a history I was never privy to. Though Tobias has told me stories, I didn’t quite understand it fully until this moment, the meaning behind every action, every detail, because I’m holding the original blueprint in my hand.
This isn’t just my love story. It never was.
Carefully folding the drawing, I place it back into the box and walk over to the window catching sight of Tobias just as he reaches the beach.
Beneath his purposefully constructed armor is the bleeding heart of an orphaned little boy who was forced to grow up way too soon. A heart that suffered years of neglect, of rejection—including his own. He kept it that way to protect himself and those around him until I retrieved it. And he let me discover him, knowing he would become his most vulnerable.
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. I raise my palm to the window. “You’ll never be alone again. You’ll never be alone. I promise you. It was never my heart, Tobias. It was yours.”
Age Eleven
“Come on, Dominic, grab your backpack. We have to go.” Dominic doesn’t move. Instead, he kneels on his carpet pushing his car along a track he made from electrical tape on his threadbare rug.
“Did you hear me? Come on, or we’ll be late.”
“So what.”
“So what your red butt if you keep talking back to me, that’s what.”
“Why do we have to go to school for five days?”
“Because those are the rules,” I snap, reaching for the car in his hand.
“Who makes the rules?”
“People.”
“What people?”
“Dom,” I sigh as he pulls it out of reach. “We don’t have time for this shit.”
“Then tell me who makes the rules.”
“I told you, people.”
“Why do we have to listen to people?”
“Because they made the rules.”
“We can make our own rules. Papa said so.”
I pause. He hasn’t talked much about our parents lately, nor recalled his memories of them, but I always try to engage when he does to keep them fresh.
“Papa said we have to make our own rules, or the bad guys will win.”
“He said that?”
“Yes. School for two days.”
“It doesn’t work like that, Dominic.”
“Why?”
“Dom,” I grit out and snatch the car from his hand. His lip quivers with anger as he looks up at me. “We are people. We can make rules, so the bad guys don’t win.”
He looks up to me with such conviction that for those few seconds—I believe him. I’ll believe anything he tells me.
“Then maybe one day we’ll change them.”
“Promise?”
“Promise.”
The hairs on my neck rise as storm clouds cover the sun on the horizon. The sea rages below as the rogue waves roll over the silky sand in front of me, a strong and fitting parallel to the way things happened. For a majority of that night, I stood out in my clearing as Dominic’s words circled my head, the simplicity and brilliance of them—a heavy implication to the solution of every problem.
Change the rules.
His words triggered a butterfly effect and supplied me with some of my first notes, the first images for the composition of my blueprint, the ignition that sparked the cogs into motion.
I haven’t spoken a word to him since the day he passed—even when I visited his grave because words always failed me—because I felt I failed him.
But it’s different words that have kept me mute over the years. Words Dominic spoke the night he died that haunts me most. Indicative to the way he thought, of what I know he believed about himself, about his fate. Even those who didn’t understand him personally—which were only a select few—could recognize there was something more to him.
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.
I run my hands through my hair as I work around the burn in my chest. “Sorry to report school is still five days long.” I shake my head and grin, clearing my throat. “You forced me to take all the credit for being the man behind the curtain, but that’s not how it started, is it, Dom? And I don’t think anyone would believe that it was the suggestion of a five-year-old boy that saw the world for what it is, that set it all into motion.”
Choking on the never-ending snapshots of him flitting through my mind, I close my eyes and cradle the car in my palm. “I made you a promise, Dom, but I lost you to keep it. And looking back, I don’t feel it was worth it. As selfish as it is, I would trade everything we’ve done, just to get you back.”
Always brothers.
I hear him speak the words so clearly that my knees hit the sand. It’s as if he’s whispered them in my ear. Closing my eyes, I pray it keeps him with me just a little longer as every hair on my body stands on end.
“You were so fucking intuitive, but did you…did you really know?” Swallowing, I let hot grief stream down my face. “I fucking miss you. Every single day. Every goddamn day. And if I’m destined to live a long life without you, I guess the least I can do is thank you. Thank you, Dominic. Thank you. Fuck,” opening my eyes, I gaze out to the rapidly darkening sky. “I g-guess…I guess if you can hear me, save me a place in the passenger seat.” I think of my parents and how it seems like a lifetime ago that they existed—a different life. “I hope you’re with them. I hope you’re…” I let the grief take over as the wind kicks up. I open my hand to see the car roll back and forth on the flesh of my palm as the white foamed waves crest in and snatch away the shoreline. A stronger breeze follows as if urging me to my feet, and I dust my pants off and walk over to the sea wall and set his dove atop it.
“I’m tired, Dom, so help me watch over us, okay?”
Starting my walk up the cliffside, rain begins to pelt my face just as thunder sounds at my back. Another gust of wind has me hastening my steps toward my future, but I can still feel him, and so I speak once more.
“We did it, brother.”
The End
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Thank you to my readers. Without you, there’s no story worth telling. You bring me so much joy, and I’m so grateful for you.
Maïwenn—For whom the book is dedicated to. I’m so thankful to you for taking the time out of your busy life to painstakingly go through every word for French translation to make it the best it could possibly be. Our friendship is by far the bigger blessing, but your devotion to this project was mind-boggling, and I’m so grateful. You, Cherie, are a rare treasure.
Donna—You’ve been there, from day one, for so many of these, and continue to remain there through the first day of the next one. I thank God for you. You are a magnificent human, and I’m so blessed to have you in my life. Thank you for the insane and countless hours you’ve spent on these books. Your sacrifices and sleep deprivation will never be forgotten. We did it again, Mon bébé.
Grey—Thank you for all your help with inspiration, for replenishing my well when it gets too close to empty. You were blessed with both a love and way with words, and I’m so thankful for your dedication to help me with my own. I adore you.
Autumn—Our talks, our exchanges—especially the humor—are absolutely everything. Our friendship continues to be one of my greatest blessings. Another thing to tick off daily on what I have to be thankful for. Your phone calls and ‘I’m really proud of you’ mean so much. There’s no level of functioning without you.
I want to thank my dear betas—Christy, Maïwenn, Maria, Marissa, Kathy, Malene and Rhonda—for once again, coming through, for both your critiques and encouragement. I love you ladies.
Thank you to my dear PA, Bex-a-million-Kettner for putting up with me once again, with my demands, with my crazy banter, all the while manning the camp. You are one in a billion, my friend.
Thank you to my darling PA Christy, for being so much of an unforgettable presence you co-starred in this series. Thank you for being a real-life ride or die. My love, there is no one like you, and I’m so blessed to know you. Book twenty-four baby!
Marissa—I’m so thankful for the phone calls we shared before and after, and for your help in easing the headache and smoothing out my worry lines in helping to sort this plot. I love you, babe. No character I write could ever truly do you justice.
For my Proofers—Bethany and Joy—Thank you so much for sorting through my Kateisms, polishing my words, and reeling me in. I adore you so much. My books wouldn’t be what they are without you. XO
A HUGE thank you and shout out to my sister, Angela, for the phone call that saved EVERYTHING, and the endless ones before. My rock, my best friend and sister, I love you.
Another HUGE thank you to my other rock, my Krissy Bear for keeping me laughing, organized, and on occasion slapping my hand. You are such a joy, such a bright light. I’m so blessed to call you sister, and I love you madly.
Thank you to my amazing ASSKICKERS, you continue to amaze me daily with your encouragement and support. A huge thank you to those in the Recovery Room, who post your love for these characters daily, and made all of the work a thousand percent worth the effort. You’ve brought me so much joy between the madness.
Thank you to my ever-supportive family for grounding me, having my back, and making me laugh. I love you.
Thank you to my faithful husband, Nick, who put up with way too much crap this round and loved me through it. You’re an incredible man and husband.
USA Today bestselling author and Texas native, Kate Stewart, lives in North Carolina with her husband, Nick, and her naughty beagle, Sadie. She pens messy, sexy, angst-filled contemporary romance, as well as romantic comedy and erotic suspense. Kate’s title, Drive, was named one of the best romances of 2017 by The New York Daily News and Huffington Post. Drive was also a finalist in the Goodreads Choice awards for best contemporary romance of 2017. Her works have been featured in USA TODAY, BuzzFeed, and translated in five languages.
Kate is a lover of all things ‘80s and ’90s, especially John Hughes films and rap. She dabbles a little in photography, can knit a simple stitch scarf for necessity, and on occasion, does very well at whiskey.
Other titles available now by Kate
Romantic Suspense
The Ravenhood Series
Flock
Exodus
The Finish Line
Sexual Awakenings
Excess
Predator and Prey
Lust & Lies Box Set
Contemporary Romance
Room 212
Never Me
Loving the White Liar
The Fall
The Mind
The Heart
The Brave Line
Drive
The Real
Someone Else’s Ocean
Heartbreak Warfare
Method
Romantic Dramedy
Balls in Play Series
Anything but Minor
Major Love
Sweeping the Series
Balls in Play Box Set: Anything but Minor, Major Love, Sweeping the Series, The Golden Sombrero
The Underdogs Series
The Guy on the Right
The Guy on the Left
The Guy in the Middle
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