Page 27

27

Legacy

The sound of giggles meets me when I walk through the door. It’s music to my ears as I strip off my cut and hang it in the entryway. And when Bea’s laugh is followed by Reagan’s, my heart hammers against my ribs.

Reagan and I have been playing this game of sneaking around for a couple of weeks now. Every night, after Bea goes to bed, I slip into Reagan’s room. I’m slowly learning every little detail about her. From her past to the pattern of freckles that dot the back of her right shoulder. And every detail makes me desperate to learn more.

I need to know every shade of her smile. Every fleck of honey in her brown eyes. Every sound. Every moan. Every hum.

But while we continue figuring each other out, while avoiding defining what we’re doing, we have no choice but to continue hiding from my five-year-old .

We can’t bring Bea into this without being able to give her clear answers, which means for now, we have to keep her in the dark or finally pull the trigger.

It sounds simple when Reagan has my full attention and my brothers know not to fuck with her, but it’s not. After Bea, I vowed not to bring anyone else into this with me. For their safety and for the sake of Bea’s heart. But if anyone is going to have me breaking that promise, it will be Reagan Brady.

So I’m left with two options: be selfish or let her go.

Neither feels like a win for both of us.

All I know is that walking in and hearing Reagan and my daughter laughing fills every pore in my body.

Bea’s own mother won’t even make the trip to the neighborhood to see her now that she’s on the mend and walking around. And it isn’t because she wants to spare Bea the sight of her while she’s still healing. It’s because she still doesn’t give a shit.

When Sera first got here, I struggled with the thought that she might want to play a part after all these years. Nothing prepared me for her decision that she still didn’t. The meds wore off, and she confirmed she wanted nothing to do with our daughter, and my heart hurt for Bea all over again.

At least Bea doesn’t know what’s going on. The sooner we can take care of the Iron Sinners and get Sera out of the clubhouse, the better. I’m protecting Sera because she gave Bea life, but I can’t keep coming face-to-face with the woman who abandoned my daughter.

Every sideways glance .

Every time I spot her drinking with the patch bunnies.

I want to kick her to the fucking curb and not give a shit what happens.

“Surprise!” Bea runs across the kitchen when I turn the corner, throwing herself at me the moment she’s within reach. “Happy Birthday, Daddy.”

Her little arms wrap around me, while Reagan and Margaret watch from the island. Margaret is on her usual stool while Reagan leans over the counter. Flour dusts the side of her neck, and her blonde ponytail is wild and messy.

Sitting in front of them is the source of the mess in the kitchen.

“You made me a cake?” I pick up Bea, brushing her blonde hair off her face.

“Reagan made it.”

“I baked it,” Reagan clarifies. “You’re the one who made it so pretty.”

The frosting is a mess of swirls and a rainbow of colors. There’s no pattern except for the flower on the top.

“It’s perfect. I love it.” I plant a kiss on Bea’s cheek, and she wraps her arms around my neck.

I mouth thank you to Reagan, but she shakes her head and mouths it was all her back.

Sera doesn’t understand what she’s missing out on. And yet, this woman who is supposed to just be her nanny gives everything she has to my daughter.

They cook together and color together. Reagan clearly let Bea decorate the cake, even though I know from the cupcakes they made last weekend that if Reagan had been the one handling it, she’d have decorated it differently.

Every day before school, Reagan wrangles Bea’s hair into a new braid or hairstyle. And every night when the sun sets and it’s cool enough to be outside, Reagan sits on the porch while Bea runs around.

She’s given up her whole life for us, and it adds to the already heavy weight on my chest.

“That’s a big hug, Daddy.” Bea laughs, and I realize how tight I’m squeezing her.

“Sorry. I just love my cake so much.”

“And me?”

“And you.” I set her down, tapping her on the nose before she runs off.

Her blonde braid swishes across her back as she meets Reagan at the island.

“Can we cut it now?” Bea slides onto the stool beside Margaret.

“Before dinner?”

“Reagan says birthdays are exceptions. No vegetables either.” She tips her chin up proudly.

“No vegetables and dessert for dinner.” I grin. “You’re spoiling me.”

Bea rolls her eyes dramatically, shaking her head. “Make a wish, Daddy.”

Wishes used to be a lot easier to come by because everything seemed impossible, even in the eyes of the universe. But as I stop in front of the cake and look down at the candles, I can’t think of anything else I need in this moment .

I blow out the candles, and smoke curls from the wicks.

“What did you wish for?” Bea bounces in her seat.

“It’s a secret.”

Margaret nudges Bea’s shoulder. “He can’t tell you, or it won’t come true.”

Bea frowns, but Margaret distracts her with the promise of cake, leading her to the kitchen table while Reagan cuts it.

The knife slides to the center as she serves perfect slices of chocolate cake. First to Bea, then Margaret, and finally me. A plate slides across the counter in my direction, and I realize I’ve been standing here staring at her.

“Happy Birthday, Jesse.” Her smile has my throat tightening.

“Thanks, sweetheart.”

It’s been so long since I’ve cared to celebrate my birthday because every year adds to the list of things I’m doing wrong. But standing here with Reagan, I wonder if this is how it should feel. Like there’s something more worth celebrating.

“Only ten candles, huh?”

“We didn’t want to burn the place down,” Reagan teases, shooting me a wink.

“Thirty-two isn’t old.”

“Whatever you say.”

“Brat. ”

Reagan bites her lower lip, knowing exactly what she’s doing. Baiting me so I’ll make her pay for it later. Game on.

We sit down for cake, and Bea finishes first, only getting through half her piece. She drags Reagan into the living room to toss balloons around, leaving me with Margaret in the kitchen.

“How you feeling?” I ask Margaret.

She stopped after her first bite, pushing the cake around on her plate after that.

“Better than yesterday.” Her smile is hollow.

“Have you changed your mind about the trial? The doctor said—”

She waves her hand. “I know what they said. And adding another six months of misery isn’t worth it when I can spend time actually enjoying the ones I have left.”

We’ve been in circles about this because, in my mind, more time is more time. But I grit my teeth and keep it to myself when I know she’s right. Living at the hospital isn’t living. Which is why I promised to bring her here and help her make the best of her time.

“You’ve become quite fond of my niece,” Margaret says, watching Reagan and Bea toss a balloon back and forth across the living room.

“You noticed?”

“You two aren’t as discreet as you think, Jesse. I lived a whole life before you were even born. You can’t fool me.”

Chuckling, I wipe my hair off my forehead. “Reagan’s just… there’s something ab out her.”

“There is.” Margaret nods. “Reagan’s always handed her whole heart to people. She takes care of everyone around her. Even when she was a little girl, nothing was ever half-in for her. She’s two feet in the water or nothing at all.”

“Is this where you tell me to leave her alone or not break her heart?”

“Lord knows you’ve never listened to me before, so why would you listen to me now?” Margaret glances over at me, then at Reagan. “But no. This is where I tell you to let those walls around your heart down. I see how you look at her… how she looks at you. Don’t let being stubborn or scared get in the way of something you’ve deserved for a long time, Jesse King.”

“What if I’m just using her like everyone else in her life? She does everything around here for me and Bea. Like you said, she’s always taking care of everyone else over herself. It’s not right.”

“Is that what you really think?” Margaret hitches an eyebrow. “That girl might question herself from time to time, but she’s got a backbone stronger than any of us. And she doesn’t just do things for the sake of them; she does them because she cares. Besides, you’re so focused on what she’s doing for you; I don’t think you give yourself credit for what you do for her. Her parents failed her. Her sister loved her but never stuck by her. She’s never had a partner, an equal who balances her out, but you are. You protect her. You make her smile, and you give her everything she could need.”

“Reagan’s not big on material things. ”

“Material things aren’t what I’m talking about.” Margaret smiles. “I’m talking about gestures. She mentioned one time that the backyard would be better with shade, and you built her a canopy. You brought home takeout Thai the other night, but you conveniently forgot your favorite dish in the order. Do you think I don’t know why that is?”

Because Reagan’s allergic to peanuts.

“Exactly.” Margaret smirks, reading my mind. “You cater to that girl’s every whim, Jesse. She’s not the only one taking care of people around here.”

“That’s small stuff.”

“Small stuff counts more than anything when it comes to love.”

Love .

My throat tightens as I look at Reagan. Her blonde hair shines and her posture loosens with her laugh. I want to spend my life listening to that sound.

“You’re a good kid.” Margaret pats my hand, snapping me from my thoughts. “Good for her. Treat her right.”

Margaret gives me a sly smile as she steps into the living room, sitting on the couch beside Bea, who is more than happy to hand her a story to read. And once they’re settled, Reagan makes her way back into the kitchen to clean up the cake.

Like she’s a magnet, I find myself gravitating to her side at the sink.

“Thanks again for helping Bea put this together. I’m surprised she remembered it’s my birthday. ”

“Margaret remembered.” Reagan nudges my arm. “And good thing since you didn’t tell me.”

“Never been big on celebrating birthdays unless they were Bea’s.”

“Of course you weren’t, big bad biker.” She rolls her eyes, setting the last plate in the dishwasher. “I’m going to go check on the laundry.”

Reagan disappears around the corner, and I listen as she rotates the clothes. In the living room, Margaret and Bea are still reading a book, and I spot three new figurines on the mantel above the fireplace. Reagan has been slowly decorating. Leaving hints of herself in my space. Filling the air like my house was hollow and incomplete before she got here.

The hum of the dryer starts, and I can’t help but follow Reagan around the corner. I need to be around this woman every second I have the chance, and it’s only getting worse.

She’s leaning over the washer and starting another load when I step into the laundry room. Her short sundress teases the bottom edge of her round ass, putting her lush thighs on display. Endless smooth skin my fingers crave every second of the day.

When she’s done moving the clothes around, she stands back up, slamming it shut and starting it.

Reagan spins, and what Margaret says plays on repeat in my head. Reagan is always taking care of everyone else, and all I want to do is thank her for it. I want to take care of her in return. To give her all she deserves .

“What are you up to, Jesse King?” Her eyes narrow as she watches me close the door to the laundry room and lock it.

Devious amusement plays in her gaze as I walk over and grab her by the hips, lifting her onto the washing machine.

“I missed you today.” My lips meet hers, and my soul evaporates.

That wasn’t what I meant to say, but it’s the truth. She’s all I can think about. And when I’m not around her, I’m counting down the minutes until I can see her again.

I tip her chin up to kiss her deeper, catching her breathy little moans as my hips pin her to the washing machine.

“Jesse.” My name is a needy plea as she tugs me closer so I’m locked between her legs.

The washer shakes beneath her as my hand trails up the inside of her bare thigh.

“Fuck me,” she begs.

“Later.” I slip my hand to her paradise and slide her panties aside, stroking her slick heat. “Right now, I’d rather just take care of you.”

Her head falls back as I drive two fingers in, and I clamp my free hand over her mouth to quiet her. I’m addicted to her sounds. Even more, I’m addicted to the fact that she can’t help but make them, even if they risk getting us in trouble.

Her legs wrap around my hips as she digs her heels into the back of my thighs .

I kiss the path down her throat as she rests her hands behind her and arches her body to meet my touch. I’m gentle, even if I love fucking her rough. Because all I want to do right now is make her feel good.

Worship her as she deserves.

She starts to ride my hand as I kiss the path down the center of her throat. The taste of her warm skin is addictive. I memorize every inch.

“You know what I want for my birthday, sweetheart?”

“Hmm?” Her eyes flutter because she’s on the brink.

“I want you to come for me. Show me how good you feel when I touch you.” I lick the line up the center of her throat.

Her body starts to shake. Her hands fly to my shoulders. She’s trying to hold on, but there’s no use.

I’d know—I’ve tried. I just keep falling.

My hand absorbs her screams as her pussy squeezes my fingers, and she comes with a gasp I’m going to play on repeat in my head for years.

When I pull my fingers out, she collapses against me, and a terrifying ache crawls through my chest. I never saw myself having a woman at my side or handing someone my trust. But if this is what it feels like, I want it.

I need it.

With Reagan.

She’s it for me.