Page 39 of Legacy

I shake my head, leaning back in my chair. “No old lady.”

Just like I’ve always preferred. But when I glance at Reagan, I wonder what Ghost sees when he looks at Luna. Or what Steel sees when he looks at Tempe.

Did they know it when they found the person worth sticking around when they first saw her? Did they see their other half sitting in front of them?

What did that feel like?

Because when I look at Reagan, I swear she fits against all the parts of me I’ve always seen as rough edges.

She turns to me with the fading sunset behind her, and I let myself think for a second that this might be what it feels like on the other side of loneliness. I hold onto thatfor a breath, and then I look away, stretching my legs out as the phantom ache shoots through me.

A reminder that this isn’t possible, so there’s no point thinking about it.

She’s here because of Margaret. But she’ll get tired of me or this place or the club eventually. She’ll realize there are easier jobs with simpler people. People who don’t show up in the middle of the night stained in blood.

She’ll remember she’s twenty-one, smart, and beautiful. And she’ll move on.

There’s no point getting attached. I can’t handle another woman breaking Bea’s heart.

Much less mine.

11

Legacy

A noisy clubhouse hasnever bothered me. If anything, it helps me stay out of my head this late at night. The moment Bea goes to bed it’s so damn quiet in my house it’s nearly unbearable. The clubhouse gives me something to drown out the doubt that takes over in the silence.

Which is why I appreciate that tonight my temples throb. Loud enough to almost drown out the fact that I’m wondering what Reagan is doing while I sit on my favorite stool and sip a beer.

Almost.

She’s threaded through my thoughts. Living in my head.

She’s the reason I’m here at all when Bea is having a sleepover with Austin at Steel and Tempe’s house. I took one look at her in her cutoff shorts and knew if I didn’t get out of there, I’d do something I shouldn’t. Reagan mightonly be here temporarily, but as long as she is, I need to keep my hands off her.

After all, I’ve got plenty of options at the clubhouse if I need to blow off steam. Even if Reagan being on my mind is making it fucking impossible to consider any of them right now.

Why do her eyes make me question every other woman I’ve spent time with?

Why does her smile make me doubt who I am?

I don’t have the answers. All I know is that I’m slowly memorizing every hint of her happiness. From the wide smile she offers when she’s cooking with Bea to the devious grin that she gives me when she’s pushing my buttons and calling me Legacy.

Reagan Brady is a puzzle I can’t help but try to figure out.

Havoc sits on the barstool next to mine. He’s been quiet for the past few minutes, sipping his drink.

Reina and Wren step into the room opposite where we’re sitting, and Reina’s eyes immediately narrow when they land on Havoc. Instead of draping herself over him like she’s been doing this past month, she leads Wren outside, glaring at him.

“What was that about?” I ask while he watches her disappear.

“She’s still pissed I kicked her out of my room earlier. Wasn’t in the mood.”

Havoc isn’t as bad as Soul and Chaos are with women, but he’s no priest. His bed is rarely empty when he’s around. And flat out turning down Reina isn’t like him.

“You all right?”

“Fine.” His fingers strum against the neck of his beer bottle. “Just tired.”

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