HERS |Tris Morgan x Jack Marston |Book III of HIS Series

Legacy

A/N: words cannot explain how grateful we are for your patience. This is the last chapter before the epilogues so we hope you enjoy.
Chapter warning: violence

Tris kicks off her covers with an excitement she hadn't felt since she was a young girl on Christmas morning. She would rush into her parents room to beg them to get up so she could open her presents.

Her Pa would pretend he was deep asleep and would ignore her attempts to wake him until finally he'd lunge up, pinning her under the sheets as she giggled. Tris would hear you playing along, asking if the bed monster had eaten her to which Tris would squeal giddily and kick wildly to free herself.

This morning the excitement was a different gift. Her two favourite men spending time together with her. So instead of running to her parent's bedroom, like she used to, she skips to the kitchen, humming along to a tune she'd heard you play on the living room piano.

As if her body were floating she spins around the table, and reaches up to begin scouring the cupboards. Her shirt, one of her favourites, rides up revealing her stomach. Normally, Tris would do everything to prevent the scar on her belly from showing but since being with Jack she found she cared less and less if people saw the edges of the mottled area of skin.

"Coffee for papa," she places the tin on the counter top then stands on her tiptoes to scan the shelves, "Chocolate for the ride." She grins and quickly tucks the candy into her jeans pocket.

"That ain't a proper breakfast."

"Jesus shit." She hisses and clutches her hand to her chest.

Her father's brow quirks at the curse and she waits for the scolding but he simply scrubs his face tiredly  as if still trying to wake up.

"Coffee?" He grumbles dropping heavily into one of the chairs.

"Five minutes."

Grabbing a pack of jerky she tosses it onto the table for him to eat. "You overslept and we are going to be late." She sing songs and busies herself with the coffee.

Arthur reaches across the table and pulls the pack of dried meat towards him. Taking out a strip he sniffs it cautiously before tearing off a strip with his teeth.

"Your mama kept me up-" he stops himself, the jerky making his cheek bulge. "I uh... didn't get much sleep." He corrects sheepishly the tips of his ears turning a bright shade of pink.

Oblivious, and barely listening, Tris sets the cafetière on the stove. "We still have to feed the horses, clear out the stalls, get saddled up," She spins around her face suddenly serious, "And face the dreaded Davies brothers."

Arthur laughs under his breath. It felt good to be joking around with his daughter again after everything that had happened. He was reminded that no matter how old she got, she was still Tris and that was what he loved.

"Y'know you don't need to come if you hate 'em so much. I can handle the deal on my own." He reaches for more jerky, "Your Pa's a big boy y'know? I can handle myself."

Tris rolls her eyes. Leaning  forward she snatches the packet from his reach, "You'll be big alright." She scolds, wiggling the packet before throwing it back on the shelf. "Lay off the salt or Linc won't be able to carry you."

Arthur scoffs but his eyes wander down to his waistband. Perhaps she had a point. He certainly had gotten bulkier with age. Safe living and Abigail's regular feasts had left his once toned and firm body, softer in places and filling out his clothes a little more.

Ignoring the jab he nods at the clock in the wall. "We ain't gonna be late. John's covering in the stables. Alls we gotta do is get our gear and go."

At that moment a knock sounds at the front door, making them both jump. Arthur tenses, already half to his feet. Before he can tell Tris to get back she rips open the door.