Page 77 of Legacy

Jesse brushes my cheek with his thumb. “It’s not your fault.”

I swear this man reads my mind.

“It’s—”

“Notyour fault, Reagan.”

“Okay.” I force a smile, wishing I believed him.

Tomorrow, I need to make a decision, but tonight, I’ll let his words hang like truth. We’ll stand in each other’s arms in the middle of the makeshift bar dance floor, pretending everything isn’t going to inevitably change after what happened here.

My fingers brush over the buttery leather of Jesse’s cut, and I wonder if I should be scared at how quickly he flipped the switch tonight. One second, someone was grabbing me; the next, Jesse was across the room, pulling him off me.

He nearly broke the man’s arm and then forced him to apologize for it.

Maybe I should be scared this side exists inside him. It’s the same darkness I saw the night he came home covered in blood.

But in Jesse’s arms, I feel safe and protected. No one has ever stood up for me like that.

It was heart-stopping and intoxicating. It’s wrong in every way that makes sense and right in every way that doesn’t.

I stroke the edges of Jesse’s cut and look up into his blue eyes. “Areyouokay?”

“You’re worried about me?” His movements pause.

“Well… yeah?”

Shouldn’t I be?

He just got in a fight in my name. And given the reputation his club seems to carry around town, I doubt security or the police would have looked the other way if it escalated.

An amused smirk ticks up in the corner of Jesse’s mouth. “You’re worriedabout me?”

“What? Is no one allowed to worry about the big bad biker?” I shoot him a playful glare.

“Guess I’m just not used to it, sweetheart.” His fingers splay over my hair at the side of my head as we slowly sway.

While everyone around us gets louder and drunker, we exist in this bubble. Our own universe where there’s only each other.

“Your dad was in this”—my eyes dart around, assessing who’s around us as I choose my words carefully—“life. Didn’t he worry about you following in his footsteps and the danger it all brings?”

My words are nearly a whisper so no one else can hear us.

“King was more of a throw you in the deep end and hope you figure out how to swim kind of father.” Jesse chuckles.

The statement is harsh, but his expression isn’t. Like it is what it is. And something about that strikes me as interesting since Jesse is the opposite with his own daughter.

“He was respected by his brothers,” Jesse explains. “And in the end, he went down for the club. There’s not one man among us who doesn’t have good things to say about him.”

“But…” I prod, sensing there’s more.

“You’re observant.” He smirks. “But… Ghost is more family than King was if I’m being honest. Dad gave me life. He gave me the club. He gave me Ghost when Marcus’s family died and mine took him in. But he was never really a parent. He let Mom handle me until I was old enough tostick up for myself, and only then did he start paying attention.”

I hum, brushing my fingers down his cut. “Sounds like I’m not the only one with a complicated view on family.”

“You’re not.” He holds me tighter. “But I’m not complaining. King gave Mom and me everything we needed to survive. He provided for his family.”

“There’s a big difference between surviving and thriving.”

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