Page 31 of Sweet Redemption

“See you guys later,” I add as we start to walk away.

But not fast enough to miss Hendrix’s parting words.

“Yeah, you will.”

HENDRIX

Legacy isn’t a number in the bank. It’s the people who live long after you’re gone.

It’s the way your name is said in rooms you once were in.

If you want a legacy, live your life with purpose and love.

—Declan Sinclair’s advice to his sons

“So . . .” Leo taps his bottle of water against mine as we sit on the edge of the sandbox watching his oldest, Izzie, take charge of Bodhi, as well as her younger sister, Lennox. Izzie is in momma-bear mode, like she’s a full-fledged adult, instead of a ten-year-old bossing around two toddlers.

Wait. Is five still considered a toddler?

Lennox might be a little over two years older than Bodhi, but she’s got her mom’s petite build and hardly looks bigger than Bodhi. Even if she’s always treated him like her very own baby doll.

“Spit it out, Leo, before you have a stroke,” I groan and reach out for Bodhi. “Izz, don’t let him eat sand.”

She looks up at me with her big brown eyes and wild curls, and I suddenly wonder if every woman in my family is fucking frightening in spite of their age. “He’s your kid, Uncle Henny.”

God give me strength.

Leo laughs at his kid as I wipe the sand from Bodhi’s giggling face. “Daddy . . .” He belly laughs and so much of the day’s stress melts away.

At least until my brother glares at me. “You want to tell me what the hell that was about today?”

“The meeting with Max?” I ask, wiping my hands on my shorts. “It was nothing. He wanted to welcome me to the team. Told me if I needed anything to let him know. Apparently, Teagan has connections and can help me find a nanny or a house.”

“Yeah, Teags is kind of the Revolution’s very own Mary Poppins. Only, don’t ever say that to her face. She might just rip your balls off.” He looks over at our kids playing and stretches out his legs. “Now, you ready to answer the question—because I know you don’t think I’m talking about Max.”

“You’re not going to drop this, are you?” Leo grins, and I wonder why I bothered. I’ve spent the past ten years not talking about this, and there isn’t any part of me that wants to start now. “Whatever, man . . . We’ve got a history.”

“A history,” he volleys back. “Explain.”

“Brother, I wouldn’t even know where to start.”

“Catch,” Bodhi yells at us as he tosses a springy football across the sandbox and manages to smack Leo in the face.

Great timing, kid.

“How about at the beginning, jackass.”

“Remind me why I tolerate you.” I duck as the football sails by my head.

“Because I’m going to protect your ass on the ice. Now talk. Because there’s no way in hell there isn’t a story there. You and Serena Kingston looked like you were ready to either kill each other or F-U-C-K each other⁠—”

“Daddy.” Izzie’s head pops up. “That’s a bad word.”

“Christ, Leo. She’s ten. She can spell,” I grumble.

“Sorry, sweetie. Can we not tell Mommy I said it?” he pleads with his daughter, smiling sweetly at the tiny terrorist.

She sticks her hand out, palm up. “Sure. But it’s gonna cost you.”