The Legacy (Off-Campus, #5)

by Elle Kennedy

Son. Damn, that does me in every time. There’s no good reason Tim should call me that. It’s not like Grace and I are married or anything. Back when we first started dating, I thought maybe he was the kind of man who called every younger guy “son.” But nope. Just me. And I can’t deny I love hearing it.

“Fine, then just open it now,” I tell her. “We don’t even know who it’s from, so technically it might not be an official Christmas present. Fifty percent of me thinks it’s a bomb, but don’t worry, gorgeous, your father assured me our atoms will be repurposed after we explode.” Grace sighs. “I don’t understand you sometimes.”

His eyes narrow in suspicion. “Swear to God, if you’re about to bitch me out again about Alexander, I refuse to hear it. You broke into our house and planted him there to scare the shit out of Wellsy. If you think I’m gonna apologize for delivering him to you on Christmas, it ain’t happening, kiddo.”

I hit a button on the screen. “Siri, send text to Best Buds Forever chat.” “Best Buds Forever?” Grace howls. “That’s the name of your group chat?”

“No, you don’t. They’re a fire hazard.” “You’re a fire hazard.” I wink at her. “Because you’re so hot.” Grace sighs.

It’s so hard to put it into words. “You make me feel…” I stop, groaning in frustration, because I’ve never been skilled at expressing myself. Putting emotions to words. “You make me feel everything,” I finally reveal. “You make me smile. You make me hard. You drive me crazy.” My voice breaks slightly. “You make me feel safe.” “I make you feel safe? You know you’re like a thousand times bigger and stronger than me, right?”

“Oh my God, Logan, do you think this is how Willie felt when he was lying at the bottom of that ravine with his broken leg? Before his spirit entered Alexander? Do you think he knew he was going to die?” Logan doesn’t speak for a moment. Then he nods. “I’ve made the decision to ignore you for the next ten minutes, or however long it takes for the terror to leave my body.”

Logan’s lips suddenly press against my cheek. “You want me to eat you?” he says silkily. “I’ll fucking eat you, baby.” “John,” I gasp, aghast. I look at the camera. “Pretend you didn’t hear that, Dad!” Then I stop recording, and Logan and I start making out while the snow continues to fall beyond the car.

I bend down so I can hug her proper. “Hey, princess,” I say, using Dean’s nickname for her. Everyone seems to have their own pet name for Jamie. Garrett calls her gumdrop. Logan calls her squirt. Hope’s husband D’Andre calls her snickerdoodle, which I think might be my favorite one.

This wedding reception is chock full of HUGE NEWS, and I’m not allowed to tell anyone about it until further notice? Not even Dean? This is my worst nightmare.

“Because Lilli and Maria wanted to be princesses too, but they didn’t have any princess stuff so I gave them princess stuff.” “Aw man,” Danny says to Mark. “How come he gets the sweet princess, and I get the kid who tries to eat the dog?”

In front of us, Marcia and Harold embrace each other, their prior ails forgotten as they profess their love. “I love you, Harold. I’m sorry I called you a pervert.”

A loud gasp sounds from the end of our row, courtesy of Marcia. “You did this to us by pressing all those buttons! You froze the screen,” she accuses her husband, pointing one red-painted talon at him. The rotund man glares at her.

She doesn’t have to speak to tell me to fuck off. Her brown eyes scream daggers. I hide a grin and open one of the cookie bags.

“Wait, I just realized how that sounds,” I interject before he can reply. “I’m not using that as an example of a nightmare scenario. I just needed to say it and didn’t want to hear your stupid mime story anymore.”