Page 99 of Legacy

“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.

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