Legally Not Yours

The Talk

POV: Leah

We were still wrapped in each other, skin warm, hair damp, the sheets tangled around our legs like vines. The air in Jared’s bedroom smelled like cedar and sex.

The windows were cracked open, letting in the late night air and the quiet hum of the city that never really slept.

Jared had one arm tucked under my head, the other slung around my waist. His chest was against my back, slow and steady.

His hand rested flat against my stomach, not possessive, just there. Like I belonged in that space.

“You’re quiet,” I murmured. “Are you okay?”

He didn’t answer for a beat.

“Back then I used to sleep with my mom telling me stories about her day,” he said. “Back when my mom was alive.”

I blinked, surprised by the softness in his voice.

“She’d lie in bed with me after working late to share her emotions to me. Sometimes she would run her fingers through my hair until I fell asleep, listening to her stories.”

I turned a little so I could see his face better in the shadows. His eyes were open, staring at the ceiling like he was talking to it instead of me.

“She died when I was fifteen,” he said. “Car crash. Drunk driver. My dad changed overnight.”

I didn’t breathe.

“He stopped talking. Stopped… being a dad. He worked, built this empire, threw himself into numbers and cases and everything that didn’t have a heartbeat.” Jared’s jaw flexed. “And Carlson, he was a kid. Like, a real kid. He cried a lot. Screamed when father missed his baseball games. He needed a dad. I was too angry to care.”

I stayed quiet. Because the way he was unraveling? It didn’t need fixing. It needed space.

“So I grew up fast. Took on things I didn’t understand. Tried to keep up. To impress him. To get even a second of his attention. And when I finally got it…” Jared let out a soft, bitter laugh. “It came with expectations so high I couldn’t see the top.” I pressed my forehead to his bare shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” I said quietly.

“Don’t be. It made me sharp. It made me…” He hesitated. “Cold. But now?”

His hand moved slightly against my stomach.

“I don’t feel cold with you.”

We laid there in silence again. Not awkward. Not afraid. Just breathing. Just enjoying the silence. It’s been awhile since I got to feel a peace and ease with someone.

“You ever thought about leaving it all?” I asked softly.

He looked at me, brow slightly furrowed. “What?”

“This city. The legacy. The fight. Just… walking away?”

He let out a breath. “You?”

I nodded.

“I used to dream of it,” I said. “When I was younger. I told myself when I finally made real money, I’d disappear for a while. Not forever, but just enough to see everything I’ve never seen.”

“Where?”

“Everywhere,” I said, smiling a little. “Santorini. Kyoto. Scotland. Morocco. I want to be the kind of woman who knows how the world tastes.”

He watched me with something soft in his expression. Admiring, but not condescending.

“I’d like to see you in Morocco,” he said. “Wrapped in some wild scarf, yelling at a merchant for overcharging you.”

I laughed. “I’d win that argument.”

“Oh, I have no doubt.” The corner of his mouth curled.

“I always thought I’d end up in New York,” he admitted. “Wall Street. Hard suits. Cold offices. Zero soul.”

“That’s grim.”

“It was safe. Familiar.” I nodded slowly.

“Then you walked into the firm,” he added. “Wearing that stupid navy blazer and eyes like you already knew every answer.”

I grinned against the pillow. “You hated me.”

He smirked. “I did.”

“And now?” He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he pulled me closer. Pressed his lips to the edge of my shoulder.

“I’d burn down everything I thought I wanted if it meant keeping you safe.”

My heart stuttered.

“I’m not good at soft,” he said. “You know that.”

“I don’t want soft,” I whispered.

“Then what do you want?” I turned in his arms to face him.

“You,” I said. His breath caught.

“And you scare the shit out of me,” I added. He smiled — not smug, but real.

“You terrify me too,” he said.

The buzz of his burner phone shattered the calm like glass under a heel. He blinked and reached for it, still holding me with one hand.

“Lincon,” he said. Pause. His body went rigid behind me. “Say that again?”

Then I sat up. “What is it?”

He didn’t answer until he hung up. His mouth was a straight line. His eyes sharper than they’d been all night.

“What happened?” He looked at me.

“There’s something wrong with the accident.” My blood went cold.

“What kind of wrong?”

“The brake, it’s clearly sabotaged,” he said. “But it indeed looked like it’s not by accident, which the person who did it must have done it a couple of times.”

I stared at him. His expression was already shifting into war mode. Calm. Focused. Deadly.

He looked at me again, and this time there was no trace of the man who’d just held me like I was his whole world. Just Jared Connors.

“I need you with me on this,” he said.

I nodded. “I’ll always be with you, I’m not going anywhere.”