The Legacy (Off-Campus, #5)

by Elle Kennedy

“Trust me,” I assure her. “It’ll be magical.” She arches an eyebrow. “I don’t know. It’s been a while. You might not want to overpromise.” “Ha. If anything, I’m under-promising.”

While planning this trip, she’s careened from excitement to dread at least six times a day. If I can get her out the front door, I’ll consider it a win.

I’m so glad Tuck and I don’t fight like that. Hell, we don’t fight at all, although my friends have differing opinions on that. Carin thinks it’s a good thing, that it means our relationship is a cut above the rest. Hope, meanwhile, insists it’s not normal for couples not to fight.

But, really, what can I do about it? Tucker is the most chill man on the planet. I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve seen him lose his temper.

After graduation, I got a job offer from the number two law firm in Boston. A dream job, as far as a foot in the door goes. It was a no-brainer that I’d take it, until I got a call from a small civil defense firm that now has me considering how my priorities have shifted the last few years.

Since graduation, though, being home all day with Jamie has changed my attitude. It’s got me worrying about the sustainability of balancing work and family long-term.

Tucker, as usual, offers himself up as my rock. My one-man support system. “Don’t worry about us,” he tells me, his voice roughening. “You’ve worked your whole life to get to this moment, darlin’. Don’t give up on your dream.”

I study his expression. “Are you sure you’d be okay if I took the job with more hours? Be honest.” “I’m g...

I see nothing but sincerity on his face, but one can never truly know with Tucker. He’s not great at telling me when something’s bothering him,...

Coming from a broken home in Southie and getting knocked up in college, I could have done a lot worse than to end up with Tucker. At even half capacity, he’d be a great guy, but this big, beautiful man goes and decides to be exceptional anyway.

I can’t wait to spend ten days on an island with him all to myself. Sometimes I really miss the early days of our relationship. Before our little monster arrived, and I spent every waking second either in class or bent over a textbook.

When we used to have sex in his truck, or when he’d come over after I got off work, push me up against the wall and hike up my skirt. Those moments where nothing else mattered e...

It’s still there, that need. Other stuff just gets in the way. Part of me isn’t sure I even rem...

Shit. She called me John. Now I know it’s serious.

Jeez, Dean’s parents are super-hosts. The binder is a treasure trove of information. Alarm codes. A map of the sprawling property. Phone numbers for a private chef, local restaurants, tour companies.

“Hell of a honeymoon story to tell, huh?” “Nah,” I answer in a sleepy voice. “I don’t think we should tell people about me eating you out in Dean’s shower.”

“Tomorrow will be better,” I promise her. “Couldn’t get much worse, right?”

You NEVER muse or ask about this

Without a word, I point to the counter. His face pales. “No. Unacceptable,” he growls. I feel honest-to-God tears well up in my eyes. “How is he here?” We stand frozen, staring at Alexander,

A joke? Yeah right. There is nothing even remotely comical about the spirit of a dead Gold Rush boy trapped inside a weird doll. I still can’t believe Dean actually thought my sweet innocent daughter would like that dreadful thing.

“We weren’t sending him to you. We were sending him away from us,” Tuck says darkly.

Nodding, he winds his arm back and hurls Alexander as far as he possibly can. Then we stand there holding hands, watching the doll bob in the calm waves, slowly carried out to sea. “Go with God,” Tucker says solemnly.

Which gets me thinking about an idea for a TikTok that’s just the backside of other TikToks. A brilliant idea if I had the time or inclination to pursue such a thing. Oh well.

“The ocean and I have an understanding,” I explain. “I stay away from it, and it doesn’t try to kill me.”

If this silly blog is correct, then Grace and Logan got married behind all our backs. This past winter. The nerve of them.

“Tucker!” I growl. He looks up in alarm. “What is it?” “Did you know Logan and Grace got married?” I demand. His jaw drops. “No. Seriously?”

ME: Omg. You made us find out from the internet? What kind of friendship is this??!? ALLIE: Seriously!!??

GRACE: Oh, shut it, Allie. You knew. ME: YOU KNEW? ALLIE: Hey, in my defense, Hannah knew too.

ME: Yeah, but Hannah’s not a gossip. YOU’RE the gossip in the group and that means it was your duty to tell us. HANNAH: Thanks, S.

“Grace just confirmed it. Apparently she and Logan eloped to Vermont over New Year’s.” “New Year’s!” he balks. He’s already reaching for his phone, no doubt to open his own group chat.

ME: Don’t use my wedding as an excuse, you traitor. You should have informed everyone the moment you found out. I’m disappointed in you, Allison Jane.

ALLIE: Hannah’s pregnant. My shriek nearly sends Tucker flying off his chair. “What?” he says anxiously. “Are you okay?”

I’m about to answer when Hannah’s response pops up, causing my jaw to slam closed. HANNAH: No. No fair. You promised you wouldn’t say anything.

ALLIE: omg I’m sorry. It just slipped out. My fingers took on a life of their own. Maybe Alexander possessed them.

ME: Don’t you dare try to distract us. Also, Alexander is swimming with the fishes. GRACE: Wait, what? ME: We drowned him.

HANNAH: I haven’t even told Garrett yet. ME: Is this a group chat or a den of secrets and lies? HANNAH: Don’t say anything to the guys. Please. Not until I tell Garrett.

So I banish the news to a little box in my head labeled shut your damn mouth. Tuck will understand. He would’ve hated it with all his heart if he’d learned I was pregnant from anybody but me. Garrett deserves to hear it from his girlfriend, not us.

tuna tartare

EW

“I want none of your thunder,” I say sweetly, smirking at him over the rim of my wineglass. “You go ahead and wear your jellyfish sting as a badge of honor. I’ll be over there, safe on land.”

How the first Tucker’s Bar that he opened right out of college had become a popular neighborhood hangout that attracted a lot of pro athletes. With its success came the second location, which is doing even better.

Bruce looks highly impressed. “You have plans beyond the bars, or is this franchise the baby?” “He has a ton of ideas,” I chime in. “He’s nowhere near done yet.”

“We practice criminal law,” Kevin tells me. “My section, we exclusively handle wrongful conviction cases. Mostly pro bono work.”

Love that

“Stop,” Bruce groans. “You’re adorable. I can’t stand it.”

I swear, I love this man with all my heart, but would it kill him not to be the strong, supportive type all the time?

Sighing, I just look at her. “Don’t give me that Dad look,” she warns. “Because you’re looking a bit red yourself.” “I’m fine.”

Eyes narrowed, she lifts the hem of my T-shirt and smacks my stomach. I flinch. “Fuck, Sabrina. Christ.” It feels like she threw scalding water at me.

“What do you want to hear? That I’ve barely got anything to do at the bars? That they run themselves and I’m bored shitless?” His jaw tightens. “I collect the checks, yeah, but I feel useless.”

“Is there a draft in here?” he says with bitter sarcasm. “Where are you hearing this, because those aren’t my words.”

“You heard me. School, work, Jamie, even a goddamn last will and testament takes precedence over me. Somehow, I always fuckin’ end up at the bottom of your priority list.

I almost scream. “Oh my God. Stop being Mr. Agreeable and all supportive and, like, Don’t worry, darlin’, you do whatever you need to do and I’ll be A-okay over here. Just one fucking time, why don’t you tell me what you want?”

Exasperation floods his expression. “I want to have my wife home more than a couple hours a day!” I rear back, stunned. Tucker looks equally startled by his uncharacteristic outburst.