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

So far, they were both healthy as horses, but that didn’t change the fact that they weren’t getting any younger.

Nor had they let up on their desire to have the family name carried on. All of his sisters had children, but none with their last name: Armstrong.

At thirty-nine, Jackson still didn’t feel the need to have a child, something the woman standing next to him would probably have a field day with during a therapy session.

“Normally, I’d say yes. But I usually do it in the morning, and your boat threw me for a loop.”

“Are you afraid of the water or something?”

“No. Just sailboats.”

“I know a really great therapist that could help you with that.” He hoped his attempt at humor didn’t get him pushed into the freezing water. He wasn’t sure if he should ask her what the toe-dipping meant. She hadn’t offered much information, but something told him this wasn’t going to be a typical ode to the old man. Jackson got the impression that Shannon’s relationship with her father had been complicated.

Whatever the reason for the ritual and her fear of boats, he could hold her hand and be there for her.

It was the neighborly thing to do.

He nearly laughed out loud. While he wanted to support Shannon, he also wanted to kiss her. Maybe even more.

He paused at the edge of the dock, staring down at his sneakers. “Do you want me to join you?”

“If you want. But I’ll warn you, it’s a strange ritual. You won’t understand, and I’m not going to explain it.” Her curtness caught him off guard. He wanted to ask a few more questions, but the closer they got to the edge of the dock, the more her body tensed. He could feel the wrath seeping from her skin like fog rising from the lake.

Shedding his boots and socks, he sat on the edge of the dock.

The ice-cold water gripped his feet. He shuddered.

Shannon dangled hers over the dock, the water lapping at her ankles. She leaned over and spit.

What the fuck?

“The only good thing you ever did for me was die. I hope you’re rotting in hell,” she whispered.

Well, that was certainly unexpected. “You can’t expect me not to ask questions after that.”

“My father wasn’t a very nice man.” She jumped to her feet, and the dock rattled as she stomped toward the path.

“Wait a second.” He stood, nearly toppling into the water. “Don’t run off, Shannon.”

“I’m not. It’s late, my feet are cold, and I want to go to bed.” She quickened her pace to a jog, not looking over her shoulder.

“Stop,” he called, but she just kept going.

He took off running, making it to her patio only two paces behind her. “I’m worried about you.”

“I’m fine. Really.” She snagged her heels. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked you to come with me. I know your boat can’t hurt me, but it’s so much like the one my father owned, and it just stirred up a lot of bad shit on a day that, for me, is a celebration.”

“A celebration? What the hell did your father do to you?” He clenched his hands into fists. He didn’t need her to answer. The combination of sadness, fear, and fury coming from her normally sweet blue eyes said it all.

“It doesn’t matter.”

“To toss your words back at you, like hell it doesn’t, or you wouldn’t bother with the ritual.” He’d seen his fair share of battered women and children as a cop. The survivors always carried the same resolve to prove they were fine. But no matter how long ago the abuse happened, a bit of that fear always clung to them like a wound that never quite healed. “I’m sorry your father hurt you.”

She reached up, palming his cheek with her soft hand. “It was a long time ago, and I do this every year to remind myself that I didn’t deserve it and that I’m making a difference in this world despite having had a difficult childhood. I know it seems strange, and I probably looked like some crazy, angry—”

He pressed his finger to her plump lips. “You’re far from crazy.”

“Thanks, Jackson. You’re a good man.” She dropped her hand, taking a step back.

“I could probably park the boat down the street at the marina if it makes you that uncomfortable.”

She shook her head. “That’s just silly. It’s fine, really. Thanks for helping me tonight. Oh, I completely forgot to ask…” Her eyes went wide.

“Ask what?” He wondered if she needed to do some other ritualistic thing. He wasn’t so sure he wanted to be a part of it.

But he would if she asked.

“How much do you charge? I’m sure you’ll need some kind of retainer.”

“A hundred dollars should be enough for me to get the un-identifying information about the adoption. After that, I’ll give you the friends and family discount of fifty dollars an hour.”

“I don’t want to take advantage of you.”

The corners of his mouth tugged upward. “This is probably going to be the most inappropriate thing I could say, but I wouldn’t mind you taking advantage of me at all.”

“Good night, Jackson.” She pushed open her door. “Maybe we can have dinner this weekend.”

“Are you asking me on a date?”

“Maybe.” And with that, Shannon disappeared into her house.

He’d lost his ever-loving mind. He had rules for a reason, and he never broke them.

Only, he’d broken two tonight.

Never take on an adoption case with a birth parent.

And never, ever go out with a client.

Chapter Four

Jackson pulled out a new file, put Shannon’s name on it with a green Sharpie, and opened the contents of the envelope she had given him the night before. He thumbed through the records, which wasn’t much. The name of the hospital. Date and time of birth. The fact that the baby had been a girl. Shannon’s name but no birth father.

He took a pad and pencil and started making some notes when his partner Katie strolled into the