Bradford's Orders Book Two The Legacy Series

Chapter 30

Thank you for reading Enjoy

Chapter 30

Blake

The sun was barely up, but the firepit crackled with fresh wood and quiet purpose.

I sipped my coffee, letting the steam rise past my nose as I watched the golden light stretch across Sawyer's backyard. The coast looked calmer this morning, muted, as if even the ocean understood grief. A low mist clung to the brush along the cliffs, and the smell of salt, smoke, and earth filled the air.

Cade sat across from me, a blanket over his shoulders, coffee cooling in his hands. Derrick leaned forward, elbows on his knees, staring into the flames like they held all the answers none of them had.

No one spoke for a long time.

Then Cade broke the silence. "I keep seeing her house in flames every time I close my eyes."

I didn't ask who she was. I knew.

Point Conception wasn't just a house, it was the soul of their family. Built by calloused hands and unwavering hearts, held together by the woman who once ruled it like a benevolent queen with steel in her spine and a laugh that could silence any storm.

Georgia Bradford.

"She'd be pissed," I said, my voice dry.

Cade smirked. "Damn right. Probably haunt the bastard."

"Only after she haunted us first," Derrick added. "For sitting here instead of figuring out how to rebuild."

All of us nodded.

Georgia never wallowed.

She was fierce. Sassy. Smart enough to outmaneuver a room full of politicians and make them think it was their idea. She didn't flinch from conflict, didn't fold under pressure. She gave everything she had. To her family, to the town, to the causes she believed in. Time, support, money, whatever was needed, she found a way to give it.

I stared into the fire, remembering her hands, thin and trembling near the end, but still warm when she reached for his.

It had been a quiet afternoon. The ocean outside her window had been calm that day, waves lapping against the cliffs below Point Conception like they were holding vigil. Georgia had insisted on dying at home, surrounded by everything and everyone she loved.

Grace had made that possible.

She was more than just a nurse, she was family. Jake's wife, calm and steady, with the kind of quiet strength that reminded me of Ma herself. Grace had taken care of her in those final weeks, gently and without fuss. She was the one who made sure Ma had peace, comfort, and dignity.

That day, Grace had given me a soft smile and stepped out of the room, closing the door behind her without a word, giving me the moment she knew I'd need.

Ma had been propped up slightly in bed, a shawl draped over her shoulders, her old worn notebook of memoirs resting beside her. The margins were filled with scribbles and thoughts, notes for future generations she knew she'd never get to say aloud.

"Don't cry, Blake," she'd whispered, her voice little more than a thread. "We all go eventually. But you, you've still got work to do."

I tried to respond, but the lump in my throat held me hostage.

She'd smiled faintly, eyes sharper than her body let on. "A building's just stone and walls, baby boy of mine. What matters is who lives inside. The hearts. The love. That's what makes a home."

Her thin fingers had found mine, squeezing with surprising strength. "You build a home with love, not bricks, Blake. You and Emma... you already have everything you need to keep this family strong. Keep them together."