Page 26 of Dirty Legacy

My little sister’s nose wrinkles. She slips inside and shuts the door behind her. “Everyone’s leaving soon. Shouldn’t you be at the church already?”

“Probably.”

She glides over and does a twirl, holding out the skirt of her dress. “What do you think?”

“You look great, kid. Almost like a girl.”

She snorts and flops into a chair across from me. “And you look like a creep. Where’d the suit come from? A dead French guy?”

I look down at myself. “Sinead picked this. Well, it was one of her options. It’s designer.”

“Oh, well, if that’s from Sinead, then it must be perfect.”

I laugh and throw a pen at her. She deftly snatches it from the air and twirls it around her fingers, smiling at me. The scar on her face twists in a way I’ve always loved, even if it reminds me of how much pain she’s been through. I didn’t think anyone could make me smile today, but leave it to Rowan to pull it off.

“You should go find Dad and your mom before they leave you behind.”

“No way that’ll happen. You know how they are. Ever since the accident, Mom’s a helicopter parent.”

“She can be a little… overbearing.”

“You think? I went to hang out in the park with my friend last week and Mom legit followed me the whole time. She was like a freaky stalker.”

“Want me to talk to her?”

“No way, that’ll make it worse.”

I don’t mention that I’ve had men keeping an eye on her for years myself. That would only piss her off. “If you want, you can ride with me.”

“Speaking of which—“ She gets up, reaching out, and plucks the bourbon from my hand.

“Uh, you’re too young for that.”

“Yeah, and you’re driving today.” She places it down on the bar cart. “You sure you’re okay?”

I run a hand through my hair, probably messing it up, but it doesn’t matter. Sinead probably has a team of stylists waiting at the church to primp me into perfection like a freaking F1 pit team.

“I don’t want to bore you with adult shit, kid. My problems are my own.”

“Yeah, true, but your problems are so much more interesting than mine.”

“Easy for you to say.”

“What’s the matter? You don’t like Sinead? I know you two aren’t in love, I’m not a moron, but she seems great.”

“She is great.” My eyes go to the books, not sure how to explain it to a teenager. Sinead’s fantastic, and that’s exactly the issue.

I don’t deserve a woman like that.

I’ve fucked my way through half the city. I’ve filled, choked, spit on, kissed, and spanked dozens and dozens of women. And not once have I ever cared about them. Not once have they ever stuck in my head.

Until Angie came along all those years ago, and she infected me in ways I still don’t fully understand.

Sleeping with her unlocked that hungry yearning. The vicious, wild need churning in my core.

How can I reasonably marry Sinead, knowing I want someone else?

Knowing I break everything I touch?