Chapter 2
Legacy
“No flowers for your pretty lady today?”
I didn’t answer him. Instead, I went back to drinking. It was early, not even lunchtime, but today of all days, I needed to take the edge off. I needed to forget for a little while, even if that meant getting blackout drunk to do it.
“Legacy?”
I snapped my eyes at him. “She’s not my woman.” Waving my hand between us, I sucked in a breath. “Leave it alone, Duke.”
I expected him to start taking the piss, but surprisingly, he didn’t say a word. Instead, he patted my shoulder before sliding onto the stool next to me.
“I’ll join you. No one should drink alone on a day like this.” He chuckled. “Or ever.”
Leaning my elbows on the bar that took up almost an entire wall of the common room in our clubhouse, I stared hard at the dark amber liquid in my glass. And I felt nothing.
Absolutely nothing except, of course, the gnawing empty pit that kept growing in my stomach.
God, I missed him. And ten years hadn’t done anything to lessen the pain of losing him. He had been my brother. Not by blood, but then again, I had lost my actual brother as well.
Two brothers gone in the space of a few years. No wonder I was an emotionally distant mess. I should have probably gotten help. The military had tried to help me. In fact, loads of people had. But truthfully, there was no helping a man like me. It was easier just to cut myself off. Riding with the Savage Sons gave me the best of both worlds. I had a family of brothers around me. Hell, half of them had watched me grow up, vowing never to patch in. But I didn’t have to get close to anyone. I had their back, and they had mine, but there was none of the warm and fuzzy stuff that came with being attached.
I wasn’t close to any of them. Not like I had been with Paul or my twin brother Emmet before him. And that suited me just fine.
So Duke coming up to see if I was okay was surprising. We didn’t do warm and fuzzy here. We didn’t do talking about feelings. It was one of the reasons I had come back.
“I’m not really in a talking mood.”
Reaching over the bar, he plucked the bourbon bottle and placed it between us. Not a word left his lips as he topped up my glass and poured himself one. He didn’t speak until after he had taken his first sip. “Glad to hear it, brother, because I’m not really in the mood to listen.”
I side-eyed him. If he could feel my eyes on him, he didn’t mention it.
The liquid left a trail of fire down my throat as I downed it in one.
“How do you know about the flowers?” What I wanted to know was how he knew about Kate, but I was kind of worried I wouldn’t like the answer.
He shrugged. “It’s my job to know everything that’s going on in this club, Legacy. Most of it doesn’t interest me.” He took a long swig of his drink. “But the fact that you send flowers once a year to a pretty little piece of ass—”
I shot around. My hands balled into fists at my side. “Don’t fucking talk about her like that!” My chest heaved as I struggled to stay in control. “Kate is… She’s…”
Holding up his hands in a mock surrender that didn’t fool me in the slightest, Duke”s eyes never left my face and his easy-going smile never left his. But he was ready for whatever I threw at him.
“I didn’t say she was anything, Legacy.” He paused. “What is she, some kind of ex-girlfriend? Someone special? I heard about what happened last year at the bar.”
I swallowed hard. “Yeah.” There didn’t seem to be much more to say about that particular day. Kate had made her feelings about the flowers I sent her every year perfectly clear when she hit me around the head with them. It had been, in some people”s opinion, the highlight of Chance”s wedding. “Yeah, she”s special,” I added as an afterthought.
“Then why the stalker flowers? Why not just go and tell her how you feel?”
I turned to him, confusion clouding my judgement. Or maybe it was the drink. It was hard to know anymore. “What are you talking about? Feelings?”
Duke laughed. “The girl. You obviously care about her, and I’m just saying….”
“She’s Paul’s widow.” I went back to drinking. Because it was a hell of a lot easier to drink than trying to explain to anyone why I sent flowers to the widow of my best friend when I should have been there for her and Conner. I wasn’t quite ready to admit out loud how guilty I still felt. How guilty I would always feel.
“Your marine buddy who died?” Duke”s voice dropped. The sympathy in it was so thick I could have cut it with a knife.
I hated that. Hated the sympathy in everyone’s tone.
I nodded “Yeah.”
“Shit, I’m sorry brother.” He clapped me on the shoulder. “She blames you for it?”
Did she? I frowned. Truth was, I didn’t know what or who Kate blamed for Paul’s premature death. I had spoken to her exactly twice in the last ten years: at the funeral and last year when she had told me to stop sending the damn flowers.
“I blame me,” I said quietly. Duke didn’t say a word. I couldn’t even be sure he had heard me, so I repeated myself, louder this time.
“Doesn’t matter if she blames me. I blame myself.”