Page 36 of Legacy

The living room where we’d slept had consisted of mismatched furniture—a worn leather couch with velvet cushions, an oversized reading chair, the distressed dark hardwood floors possessing just a little splash of color with a couple of rugs in muted jewel tones laid out. A fireplace was the main source of heat in the space, more functional than for comfort.

Honestly, the whole place was depressing.

More than that… it was giving up.

That was how she’d intended it when she’d acquired it. I fucking knew it.

When she’d turned away from me all those years ago and we’d remained estranged for a long while, I’d thought that had been bad enough. Butthis?This fucking place… it was far worse, because it hadn’t just been about her pulling away. She’d bought this place to disappear forever.

I squeezed my eyes shut for a moment and then took a sip from the navy mug I’d conjured, because she literally only had one mug in her kitchen cabinet, along with one glass, one plate, and basically just one of everything. I used the familiar taste of my favored strong coffee to kind of ground myself. It didn’t sound like much, but sometimes it was the smallest things that served to comfort us.

I focused on the other side to all of this, to being here.

Her awful intention for this house had altered.

Because she’d broughtushere. To a place that had been about solitude for her.

There was a profound statement in her taking that action.

One that cracked something open in me.

Because, in spite of what had happened last night with Cassius showing up, it suggested she didn’t want to run anymore.

Not from us.

Not from me.

“You’re more than meets the eye, after all, aren’t you? More than just a puppet whose strings are operated by everybody else. I thought you’d lost that ability long ago when we were kids.”

When I’d uttered those words to her at her party, I’d meant them as a challenge.

I’d hoped that she’d rise to them, that they would spark that fight in her that had somehow gotten buried over time and too much weight bearing down on her.

But it had also been a long shot.

And now here we were, hereshewas.

Solumiraused to be her escape plan.

Now it looked like she was reforming it into something else.

Not a retreat. A refuge.

Not an ending. A fresh start. A new outlook.

And maybe just recognizing that fact, that change in her,forher, should be enough.

But there was still a pressure building in my chest, an unsettling uncertainty, like I was waiting for the world to shift once more.

Waiting to be left behind. Again.

Waiting for all of this to overwhelm her.

Maybe this initial resistance of hers to allowing others to take control of her life and who she was had been rooted more in indignation than fight.

If that was the case, when it petered out, all that could be left in its ashes might just be defeat… and retreat. All over again.

Actually, it would be far worse this time.

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