One Last Rainy Day: The Legacy of a Prince(101)

I lost the best thing that ever happened to me because of that failure while discovering one of the most damning truths about the four-letter curse—about love, which is that you don’t know how significant or powerful it is until you lose it.

The breeze kicks up, increasing the sting on my face, and I’m thankful for the physical pain, even for a second, to detract from what’s happening inside me.

Gathering myself from the floor, limbs heavy, I walk over to the bed. With every step, she comes more into view, and it’s the sight of her, so unnaturally still, that crushes me. Moving a pile of folded clothes to perch at the edge of it, I soak in every inch of her sleeping form, knowing she won’t rouse because of the drugs pumping through her.

Because Tobias carried through with his threat and marked her.

I pulled up in an attempt to stop it just as I spotted Jimmy’s SUV. Jimmy was the one who inked us all, and I knew the second I saw him pulling out of Roman’s gate that I was too late.

Too late.

Too late, and my brother wasn’t even fucking here.

He didn’t even give her the choice.

He just . . . claimed her.

More to add to the list of shit I can’t forgive him for.

Staring down, I drink in her perfection the way I have a dozen times or more as she sleeps. As she dreams, and for a time, she was mine.

She was mine.

Visions flood in as I watch her chest rise and fall . . . the second our eyes locked in my backyard, the flash of surety I initially dismissed but still rang true through every fiber of my being.

She knows you.

The long looks we shared across every space, to the minute we snapped on that float before we collided and were created. The same continuous buzz thrumming steadily as we stole glances of each other between the flip of pages as storms raged outside my window.

Her fingers tracing my skin, wonder in her eyes, to running my palm reverently over her back—in awe of the heart that beat inside of her, wrapped in her mystery.

To the burst of sun that lit her up in my passenger seat as she adjusted her honeysuckle crown. The laughter spilling from us where she lay beneath me, tangled in the sheets before our smiles faded. Hearts raw and aching as we locked together, lost in our connection, chests bouncing in unison due to the tie that bound us.

That still binds us.

A fate we created together.

A story I’ll continue to relive without regret.

Falling for her was worth hitting bottom—and every single ache that comes with it.

Reaching out, I trace the curve of her cheek.

“You gutted me, baby,” I croak in confession as my chest caves. “But I can’t say I don’t deserve it . . .” I falter, grunting through the pain consuming me. “You thrive on love, and I . . . we fucking starved your heart . . . we just left you here.”

Crushed by the weight of that truth, I lift her hand and thread my fingers through hers. “We both know I didn’t deserve you . . . but you made me feel like I did . . . even if I wouldn’t even fucking hold your hand,” I admit. “I was going to,” I sniff. “I was going to try to be that guy. I was that guy. I just . . .” I slide my thumb along hers, the burn unbearable. “I would give fucking anything for one more day. Just one.”

She doesn’t stir, her hand lifeless in mine, breaths shallow but steady as she lays beneath me, looking every bit the sleeping beauty she is. But her eyes won’t open for me because they’re no longer mine to lose myself in.

No more escape.

No more fire and water to drown out the noise.

No more flame.

No more rain.

No longer mine.

Cracking wide, I bend over her, pressing my forehead to hers, “I’m sorry.” Feeling the shatter of finality, I press a salty, damp kiss to her temple, my whisper for her ear, my last confession, far, far too late. “I love you too, Cecelia.”

No more rain.





After twenty years of observing alcoholism, I finally fucking understand the why of it. Drunk brings with it a state of numbness I hadn’t realized I could reach so easily. I can now appreciate how it helps to lessen the pain by blurring reality.

A reality where I stand in the garage surrounded by birds in a celebration I want no fucking part of.

Another homecoming party, bringing me full circle in this living hell—a reminder of the day it started. The day I locked eyes with the woman who’s forever altered me for better and worse.

The birds gathering around us pop beers, cracking smiles, and chattering noisily. Most of them are oblivious to the soul-crushing karma Sean and I have endured the last two days—where I exist in a present I can’t handle. A present only made bearable for the moment thanks to the half-drained pint in my hand. As I dwell in it, the future ticks on by the second—its taunt is cruel and unforgiving. Cecelia was right. When you don’t demand anything from life, that’s exactly what it delivers, nothing.

I never asked this life for anything but took everything it denied me. That tactic worked for me just fine—something my brother and I share in common . . . along with our taste in women.

I told my brother Triple Falls was mine, but as of now, I no longer want to play my part. I can’t even imagine what a life outside of the club would look like, but the question remains . . . how in the fuck are we supposed to resume our roles, our lives?