Chapter 5

Those were the thoughts raging through my head as we were plummeting downward.

I was frightened, yes. Nearly pissed myself.

But after that initial moment of dread, I had this moment—and there was a moment when time seemed to be suspended, and every thought in the world raced through my mind—when I realized how ridiculous my life has been up to now.

Chasing women.

Chasing women with Brock and Donny.

And alone, recently, since Brock and Donny are now spoken for.

But sure, I grew up on the ranch. Learned from my dad about the financial end, but I also worked with Uncle Talon, Uncle Joe, and Uncle Ryan, getting a taste of what each of them did on the ranch.

All of us kids did. Our rounds, we called them.

So yeah, I worked my ass off, learned about the ranch.

Learned to ride a horse nearly as soon as I learned to walk.

I even learned to cook from my mom, who's a gourmet chef.

Went to college with Brock, and while he studied agriculture, I studied business, knowing I'd be working with my father on the business end someday. That's what was expected of me.

So yeah, I did all of that.

Nothing really stood out.

It wasn't my ranch.

Sure, I'll inherit my tenth or whatever when we all get our share, but I'm not my grandfather, Bradford Steel. After I found out about his antics and what he cost my grandmother, I'm not sure I ever want to be him.

Still, I accepted that I was privileged. Born rich, and I would always be rich. Even if our ranch went down, the Steels have enough outside investments to keep us all in a luxurious lifestyle for the next hundred years.

So, yeah. Even knowing my family history is spotted, I still had few worries.

Until I looked my life in the eye, knowing it was coming to an end…

What the hell have I accomplished?

I learned the family business. I got a college degree. I had a cushy position at my father's side handed to me.

Put me in a box with a million other guys who have done that.

Nothing makes me stand out.

Nothing makes David Steel Simpson stand out.

Jesse doesn't respond, and it's not like I expect him to.

Or if he does, he'll probably say something like, "Cry me a river, poor little rich boy," and he'll be right.

Finally I speak. "I've got to make my mark in this world, Jesse. I want to be something more than one of Bradford Steel's grandchildren. I want to be something more than the next CFO of Steel Acres and Steel Enterprises."

"What do you want to do?" he asks.

I bury my face in my hands, run my fingers through my hair. "That's just it. I don't have a fucking clue. And if I don't know that, I sure as hell can't be any good to any woman, and that includes your sister."

"Don't you break her heart," he warns.

I look up at him. "That's why I have to end whatever's between us before she gets too invested. And I think…"

"What?" His voice is pointed, and his expression is far from happy.

I swallow. "I should probably go home. Because I'm not going to find my path in life on a rock and roll tour."

He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath before responding. "Look. I'm the last person in the world who's going to tell you to keep sleeping with my sister, okay? End it if you have to, but do it soon. I don't want her hurting any more than she already will."

I stroke my chin. "I'm not sure she'll be that hurt. She didn't say anything about me coming to her room tonight. I was there right outside her door, and all she said was, ‘Good night Dave.'"

"So?"

"She didn't invite me in."

"Did you ask to go in?"

"No."

"Maybe she wanted you to." He shrugs. "How the hell should I know? I don't know how women's brains work. They're a complete enigma to me. I grew up with three sisters, and they all acted nuts at some point or another. Blame it on hormones, on the double X chromosome, or maybe just the Pike genes. I don't fucking know. Just go easy on her. Please. We've all been through some major trauma."

"Don't I know it." I take a drink of the cognac, let it slide down my throat, warming me.

"But there's something I want you to think about," Jesse says.

"What's that?"

He shrugs. "Your life is far from over. You're twenty-four, and you just lived through something that could've ended us all. I mean, I know the pilot said we were never in any serious danger, but it sure felt that way, and we all thought it was over."

"And…?"

"My point is relax, for God's sake. You're alive, Dave. You're fucking alive. And you're in Paris. Take a few days and enjoy it. Take your well-earned vacation, at least until we leave France. I'm not saying you should sleep with my sister." He wrinkles his nose. "Trust me, I'd rather you didn't. But take a few days without worrying about what to do for the rest of your life. You don't need to go home and figure it out right away. It's impossible anyway."

I meet Jesse's gaze. There's sincerity in his dark eyes, and I think if I hadn't screwed his sister, we might be able to be friends. He's Donny's age, and they were never friends, even though they had so much in common. Maybe they will be now since our families are joining.

"I need to ask you something," I say.

"Sure, go ahead."

"Brock and Donny are marrying Rory and Callie."

"Yeah."

"Are you going to marry Brianna?"

He grins from ear to ear. "Absolutely."

"You're that sure?"

"I am. We fell in love, and I figured we'd enjoy that for a while before making any long-term commitments, mostly because our chosen careers are at odds. If Dragonlock makes it big and we end up going on more tours, even headlining, I'll be traveling a lot. But her heart and soul are there on that ranch with her father. Working those trees. And I don't want to take her life's work away from her."

"But how are you going to make it work?"

He shrugs. "We just will. That brush with death moved me. When I thought my life was over, all I knew was that I wanted her by my side, wherever we were going. It was an epiphany, you know? I didn't have a ring, but I asked her to marry me, and she accepted. We'll make it work because I love her more than anything. Brock and Rory are going to have to make it work somehow, too. I suppose they didn't have this issue when they fell in love, because it was before Rory had even joined the band. She was teaching music in Snow Creek, and she certainly still could have done that while Brock works his ranch. But now they're going to be in the same situation."

"So let me get this straight," I say. "You actually proposed to her?"

Jesse nods. "I did. She says she feels the same way. She's so young, but I have to take her at her word. Believe that she feels what I do."

"She does," I say. "I can see it in her eyes when she looks at you."

He rolls his eyes. "Don't get all poetic."

I take a drink of my cognac. "I just call them as I see them, Pike."

But I'm done talking about this.

Jesse Pike will never understand my life, just as I'll never understand his.

I was born into incredible privilege, but to someone like Jesse, waking up and finding out your family tree is not the pillar of the community you thought it was and then subsequently looking death in the face? It doesn't pack a wallop.

Well, maybe the looking death in the face part. We have that in common.

He doesn't understand that we were always taught that every human being had value. And that we knew how incredibly privileged we were to be born into the Steel family.

But that kind of stuff doesn't sink into a kid's head. Doesn't even sink into a young adult's head. It sure as hell never really sank into mine. Sure, I knew I was privileged. But I never stopped to think about how others lived.

How others might look at us.

Oh, I heard the rumors. The Steels own this town.

I never thought it was true, until it was.

Of course it wasn't our family. It was something called the Steel Trust, which was engineered by Wendy Madigan, Uncle Ryan's birth mother.

But still, people knew. The Steel Trust had liens on almost everybody's property in town and around the surrounding areas.

But not on the Pike land.

Jesse must wonder why.

I wonder myself.

I suppose it doesn't really matter. They own their land with no liens other than a mortgage.

Jesse finishes his cognac. "I think I'm going call it a night," he says.

"Yeah. Me too." I hold up my glass. "Just got to finish this."

"You want me to stay?"

"No. I'm fine. Shaken, but aren't we all?"

He nods. "I'm going to check on the girls. Make sure they're okay."

"I appreciate that."

He rises and throws some euros on the table.

"I got this," I say.

He opens his mouth, and I'm pretty sure he's going to balk at that, until he finally nods. "That's kind of you, Dave. Thank you." He walks away.

I'll be damned. That brush with death changed all of us.