Dark Legacy by Jen Talty (best non fiction books to read .TXT) 📕

forefinger and brushed part of her hair behind her ear. “I know what it’s like to want to know of someone’s existence. It’s natural and normal. But the outcome isn’t always what we expect.”

“I can’t let it go,” she admitted.

“I’ll find her,” he whispered, tracing her jawline. His chocolate orbs were as dark as the evening sky, and they seemed to reach into her soul. They were kind and gentle eyes. Caring. The palm of his hand cupped her cheek, and he drew her face toward him. He kissed her forehead and then wrapped both of his hands around her and held her close.

Every muscle in her body loosened, and she leaned in to this strong man and cried. Really cried. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be so emotional.”

“Yeah, you do,” he said, still running one hand up and down her back while the other cradled her head. “My sisters and I have always known we were adopted, but each of us always wondered at some point in our life why we had been given away. I’d be lying if I didn’t feel tossed aside and unloved by my birth parents. My adoptive mom, my real mother, told me that having a child was a selfish act. That she wanted a child so badly, she would have done anything. But that giving one away had to be the most selfless act, and she couldn’t imagine what that must have been like for my birth mother to trust her son to another family.”

Shannon wiped her tears from her cheeks and pushed away from his comforting embrace. “Did you seek out your birth mother?”

He shook his head. “She sought me out. She was a con artist and never really wanted to get to know me, but I learned that the hard way.”

“Were you mad at your adoptive mom for filling your head with ideas that she had no idea were true or not?”

He laughed. “You really need to learn to be more subtle when going into doctor-mode.”

“Sorry. I have a horrible habit of doing that when someone gives me that much information about a painful experience. But it’s also a deflection, and it’s helping me suck up the tears. I really hate crying.”

“Cry all you want. Doesn’t bother me. Remember, I have five sisters. But feel free to deflect all you want, too. My oldest sister is a master at that.” He winked. “And to answer your question, yes. I felt like my parents lied to me, but how were they to know my birth mother was a lunatic? In a weird way, I owe her a huge thank you for doing the right thing and giving me up.”

“Can I ask you a personal question?”

“That’s funny, considering one of my hands is on your thigh, and the other is massaging your shoulder.”

“Now who’s deflecting?” She should push him away. Having any kind of intimate contact with him wouldn’t end well. “Would you have looked for your birth parents if she hadn’t come looking for you?”

“I don’t know,” he said. “Two of my sisters went looking for theirs, and it turned out okay, but that just brings me back to the idea that it should be up to the person who was given up, not the birth parents.”

“I do understand your reasoning regarding that.”

“And I understand yours. Which is why I’m willing to take the case.”

“Thank you.” She pulled back, needing to break the physical contact. “Everything I know is in a small envelope inside. It was a closed adoption.” She stood. “I’ll go get it.”

“Take your time.”

She entered the house. The envelope sat in the drawer of a small table in the hallway by the stairs. She picked it up and held it close to her chest. It was thin. And light. A few pieces of paper. That was it.

Shannon took a deep breath, then went back onto the porch. Jackson had stretched his legs out again, ankles crossed. One hand rested behind his head, the other held the glass of wine.

She placed the envelope in his lap. “Thank you,” she said.

“You’re welcome.” He pointed to the chair. “Now, sit, and let’s enjoy the view.”

“I really don’t want to talk anymore.”

He reached out and took her hand. “Neither do I. But I don’t want the evening to end.”

Reluctantly, she joined him, still holding his hand. He didn’t let go. And he didn’t talk.

It was the nicest thing any man had done for her in years.

“Oh, shit,” Shannon’s sweet voice startled Jackson.

He turned to face her. “What’s the matter?”

Shannon bolted upright, yanking her hand from his, snapping him from the visions of kissing her goodnight.

If he got the nerve.

He’d always had a bit of an ego when it came to women, and no one would ever call him shy.

Reserved? Absolutely.

Shy? When hell froze over.

But this woman had made his heart race like a lovesick schoolboy with a crush on a teacher. About the only thing he could do was hold her hand and fantasize like a stupid boy. Otherwise, he might make an ass out of himself, and that just wasn’t an option.

“I need to do something.” She leaned over, kicking off her shoes and rolling up her pant legs.

“What are you doing?”

“I need to go dip my toes in the water before midnight.”

He reached over and picked up her shoe. “So, am I Prince Charming or the driver of the pumpkin coach?”

She paused, staring at him with a scrunched face. “Would you mind coming down to the dock with me?”

“Not at all. But I’m not getting in the water. Last I checked, it was still cold as ice.” He stood, taking her by the hand, and led her down the long, windy path. “Can I ask why we are doing this?”

“It’s just something I do on the anniversary of my father’s death.”

“Maybe you want to be alone?” There was no love lost between him and his birth mother, and he didn’t want to think about the day when his