The Truest Thing: Hart's Boardwalk #4

by Samantha Young

  “They’ll stop, Em. Once they get used to us, they’ll stop.”

  “We’re none of their business.”

  “Agreed.”

  “They’ve come back to the store.”

  “You told me.” He cocked his head, confused by her melancholy tone. “That’s a good thing.”

  She wrinkled her nose, her expression adorably petulant. It made him want to kiss her. Everything she did made him want to kiss her. “I’m still mad at them for believing the worst in me, Jack.”

  “Coming from someone who had to live with them thinking the worst of him for years, I can honestly tell you that it’s best to just let it go. Forgive them. They’re not worth that eating at you.”

  Emery’s eyes brightened with sympathy. “I’m sorry. That was totally insensitive to say to you. And you’re right. I shouldn’t let what they did fester. I have a bad habit of holding on to things.”

  Tell me about it.

  “Do you ever let them go?”

  “Sometimes.” She shrugged. “Most of the time. I only tend to hang on if it’s me I’m mad at, not someone else.”

  “What do you ever need to be mad at yourself for? You’re perfect.”

  She guffawed. “I’m not perfect, Jack.”

  “No, but you’re perfect in all your perfection and imperfections. So, you’re still perfect.” He smiled.

  “Iris is right.” Em rolled her eyes. “You are such a charmer.”

  “But I always speak the truth,” he promised.

  She seemed unable to meet his gaze after that. Instead she fiddled with her napkin and blurted out, “Do you forgive your dad?”

  Jack was a little taken aback by the question, but he wanted to share everything with Em. Even the difficult stuff. “I don’t know. That’s the honest truth. I just know that I don’t want him to have any part of my life or my decisions going forward. I can’t wait for his trial to come along, be over with. I guess I’m trying to forgive him. But not for him—for me. For my family.”

  “How are they? Your family?”

  “Mom and Rebecca both started seeing a therapist, and they’re growing closer every day. They’ve even talked about getting in touch with Rebecca’s biological father when they’re both ready. Mom seems like a completely different person away from Hartwell and Ian.” It was true. Rosalie had started going out again. She wasn’t socializing a great deal just yet, but she was shopping, taking walks, hanging out with his uncle and his family—this was all a huge step in the right direction. “I’m a little worried about Becs and the upcoming trial. But she’s assured me she’s ready.”

  “I meant to say that, um, I know you probably have legal counsel for Rebecca, but because of contacts in the Paxton Group, I know the best defense attorneys in the country. If you need an introduction, I can help.”

  Jack gave her a grateful smile. “I might take you up on that.”

  She nodded. “So … when is your father’s trial?”

  “Four weeks.”

  “Jack, you should’ve told me.” Em seemed put out that he hadn’t.

  He held her gaze and whatever she saw in his made her go extremely still. “I didn’t tell you because I’ve been focusing on you. On the baby.”

  Making you a priority.

  “Oh. Well … of course I appreciate that, but your father’s trial is a big deal. Do you have to go on the stand?”

  “Yeah.”

  Her brow puckered with worry. “That’s so hard for you.”

  “Not really. He deserves what’s coming to him.”

  “You know …” She looked down at the table, fiddling with the silver bracelets on her wrists. Her long lashes covered her expression from him. “I know things aren’t … I know … ugh.” She covered her eyes now with her hands and took a deep breath.

  “Em.” He reached out to touch her wrist, gently prying her hand away from her face.

  She uncovered her eyes, and he saw her sad confliction. That expression caused a flare of feeling near his heart. “I know we’re trying to be friends,” she finally pushed out. “And that means I’m here. If you need to talk.”

  The pain eased a little. “I might just take you up on that one day. It goes both ways, you know.”

  She nodded but didn’t respond.

  Jack fell into silence easily, enjoying it because it meant he got to look at her. He tried not to grin at how she found numerous ways to avoid his intense regard. Until finally her eyes flew to his, her cheeks bright pink, and she huffed, “Stop looking at me.”

  I can’t, sunrise. There’s nowhere else I want to look.

  Instead he smiled and made her blush even harder.

  Finally, sensing she’d reached her quota on squirming under his flirtatious attention, he asked something that had bothered him since their hospital visit. “You were in a car accident when you were seventeen?”

  It was amazing really.

  How fast it happened.

  How quickly Emery’s entire expression tightened, then smoothed out into perfect blankness. “It was nothing,” she replied coldly.

  And before Jack could question her abrupt change in demeanor, Iris returned with their food. She stuck around a bit, thawing Emery’s iciness.

  But when she left, silence descended over the table again, and Jack didn’t know how to breach it. That wall Em had put up was now covered in barbed wire and volts of electricity. Her one-word answers drove him crazy.

  She seemed relieved when they left, and she didn’t want him to walk her down the boards to her beach house.

  Jack walked her home anyway.

  He said goodbye as she mumbled it in return and hurried into the house, locking the door behind her.

  He studied the door that stood between them.

  Something happened to Em when she was seventeen. Something important. And that gut instinct he used to rely so heavily on told him he needed to know what that was. Knowledge of Em’s past could only help him figure out a way to convince her that he was her future.

  33

  Emery

  As beautiful as warm mornings were in Hartwell, I often enjoyed the dull, gray days just as much. That morning, I’d gone outside with my mug of hot water and lemon and curled up on my giant porch swing to watch the energetic waves push against the shore. Soft gray clouds hinted that it might rain later.

  It was the end of September. Most tourists had returned home to the normal routine of life. Schools were back in session, and Hart’s Boardwalk’s low season had begun.

  I hadn’t slept well the night before. Not because of the baby, who seemed to be giving me very little trouble so far. We estimated I was only twelve weeks along, and Jack was on his way over to pick me up to take me for our first scan.

  Every time Jess asked how I was feeling, I felt incredibly guilty because I was great. Jess had been plagued by sickness in the first half of her pregnancy, and now she was plagued by swelling. By the end of every day, her feet, legs, and fingers were swollen and uncomfortable. Plus she’d had to go through most of her pregnancy during the summer heat. At thirty-four weeks, she was almost ready to pop, and she looked it. She was irritable, exhausted, and ready for Baby Lawson to arrive. Cooper was taking it all in his stride, even though he absorbed the brunt of her irritation.

  “How are you coping?” Bailey had asked him one Saturday afternoon when we were all hanging out at Jess and Coop’s. Jess was in the bathroom peeing for the hundredth time, which was really making me anxious about those last few weeks of pregnancy.

  “My wife is carrying our kid,” Cooper had replied. “She’s exhausted. She’s sore. She’s worried constantly about doing something that will make us lose our baby … so I can take it. It’s nothing compared to what she’s going through right now.”

  Jack had shot me a look in that moment that told me he understood Cooper completely.

  It’d made my stomach somersault and that familiar ache score across my chest.

  Jack Devlin was a major problem.


  I’d discovered that just because you told yourself someone wasn’t good for you didn’t mean your heart would feel the same way. And when it came to Jack, my heart most definitely didn’t want to acknowledge that Jack was bad for it.

  Attraction was a problem too, especially now that I had an increased sex drive.

  Every time he was around, my body came alive. I’d look at his lips or his hands and I’d feel my breasts tighten and that tug low, dirty, and deep that made me want to rip his clothes off and have my wicked way with him. I looked it up. Apparently, hormones could make some women extra needy during pregnancy. Lucky me.

  If only there were someone else who incited such feelings in me.

  But no.

  Just Jack. With his big knuckles and long, graceful fingers. Big man hands I wanted on my body.

  And it wasn’t just physical attraction.

  Every time he threw that sexy, wickedly boyish smile my way, I melted. Every time he did something considerate, which was all the time (holding doors open for me, bringing me snacks just because I mentioned a craving earlier, sliding an extra pillow behind my back anytime I shifted uncomfortably on the couch), I wanted to jump him. I wanted to throw caution to the wind and scream, “Screw it!”

  However, that would not be fair to Jack. Despite his continued flirtations, he’d taken me at my word about us just being friends. If I initiated sex between us, that would confuse things.

  Not that things weren’t already confused.

  My heart ached for him.

  My head told me that five weeks was not enough time to determine whether I could trust Jack Devlin with my heart.

  My vagina was unhappy with this logic.

  I sighed heavily as I gazed out at the water.

  “You sound like you have a million things weighing you down.”

  I started at Jack’s voice and looked to my right to find him standing in the porch doorway. I’d given him a key to the beach house for emergencies. I raised an eyebrow at his appearance.

  “I knocked,” he assured me. “You didn’t answer.”

  “Oh. Sorry.”

  “You okay?”

  His expression was tender. When he looked at me that way it got me every time. And why did he have to be so gorgeous? His blue-gray eyes squinted against the dull light, causing attractive laugh lines. His cheeks were unshaven, and he wore a beautifully fitted dark gray shirt and black suit pants.

  Running the hotel and fun park had become Jack’s full-time job. Between his mother’s lawyers and my contacts through the Paxton Group, Jack had gotten his mother’s case for full ownership of the businesses pushed through before his father’s trial. Which started tomorrow. Once Ian lost the businesses to Rosalie, she signed it over to Jack. He tried to argue with her about it, but in the end, she convinced him she didn’t want anything to do with Hartwell.

  However, the hotel and park were a big part of the community here and they’d finally have a decent owner in Jack. Once she explained this, I convinced Jack to accept her gift graciously. I’d also asked Hague for advice about finding the best defense attorney he knew. I then gave the woman’s number to Jack for Rebecca. She was a New York lawyer and Hague assured me she had an outstanding win percentage. It turned out she cost a heck of a lot of money. I wanted to offer to help, but Jack said Rosalie had her own money and would pay for Rebecca’s defense.

  Poor Jack had been rushed off his feet with these matters, trying to get up to date on where the hotel and park were financially while implementing changes to both. And he was trying to be there for me. I was worried he was exhausting himself.

  “Em?”

  I stopped ogling him and looked out at the sea. His change in work clothes were not unwelcome. While I liked him casual, there was something about Jack in a shirt and trousers, no tie, collar open showing off that strong, tan throat of his that appealed to me.

  It made me want to nuzzle my face in his throat and pull his shirt out of his pants, unbuckle his belt—

  “I’m fine.” I cut off my wayward thoughts. “Is it time to go?”

  “Yeah. You sure you’re okay?”

  “Absolutely.” I gave him a tight smile and got up off the swing.

  Jack’s eyes dropped down my body. I was wearing jeans and my favorite white blouse that had oversized balloon sleeves. “No bump yet?”

  It was on the tip of my tongue to tell him to examine me closer.

  Jesus!

  What was wrong with me?

  I scooted past him into the house. “There’s a little swell.”

  I could feel his intense regard as he followed me inside. “Why are you blushing?”

  “I’m not,” I lied. I threw him a quick look. “We should go.”

  In an effort to distract him as he pulled away from the house and headed to Essex, I decided to tell him something else that was on my mind. “I’m going with you tomorrow. To the trial.”

  Tension fell between us, thick and fast. A different kind from the usual sexual tension. “Absolutely not.”

  I bristled at his overbearing tone. “I wasn’t asking.”

  He cut me a dark look. “You’re not going.”

  Hurt, I wanted to go ice queen on his ass and give him the silent treatment. But I needed to know why he didn’t want me there more than I needed to pout. “I want to be there for you.”

  “And while I appreciate that, you’re pregnant with our baby and I would rather you (1) stay away from stressful situations, and (2) stay as far away from my father and brother as possible.”

  “The trial is not going to stress me out to the point I’m endangering our child, and I think I’m the best one to decide that. You need support.”

  “I said no.”

  Fury built inside me, fast and boiling.

  THIS!

  It flooded out. “This is why we’re not together! Your total lack of respect for my ability to make sound decisions for myself!”

  Jack hit his right signal and pulled off onto the side of the road. He turned to me, eyes blazing. “What the fuck does that mean?”

  I refused to be intimidated by the heated energy pouring off him. “Our entire relationship, if you can even call it that, has been you making all the decisions for both of us.”

  “Not fucking true,” he growled. “If that were true, you’d be in my bed every fucking night.”

  “Argh!” I raised my fists at either side of my head in frustration. “That’s such a male thing to take from this! My point is”—I glared at him—“you made all the decisions in the past. We couldn’t be together because it wasn’t safe for me. Was I given a voice in that discussion? Was I allowed an opinion? NO!” I yelled, and Jack flinched back in surprise. “I am so tired of you deciding what’s best for me without asking me what I think is best for me. And that, Jack Devlin, is another reason you and I will be co-parenting.”

  His face was mottled with anger, his eyes like fiery blue chips. His throat worked as if he was attempting to halt words from pouring out of his mouth.

  It didn’t surprise me when he whipped his head back around and pulled back onto the road without another word.

  We drove the rest of the way in seething silence.

  Through my anger, sadness filled me. I saw a future of handing our child over to Jack every second week. That meant a future of twenty-six weeks a year of utter loneliness. Alone without our kid and without Jack. The image of a faceless woman standing beside Jack as I dropped off our child made my gut twist.

  Would we have a son who looked like Jack?

  Would our child be angry at me when they eventually found out I was the reason Jack and I weren’t together? Would our kid resent me for it?

  Would I resent me for it?

  I wondered all the time what our baby would look like. Be like. I was excited to find out. I was excited for days on the beach, holding tight to a little hand, watching chubby little legs take their first steps in the sand.

  Yet, I realized ruining al
l my excitement was not just the fear of being a bad parent, of not being prepared, but anger. I was so mad at Jack for giving me reason to distrust him. And I was so mad at myself for not being able to get over it.

  When we pulled up to the hospital buildings, I got out of the truck before Jack could help me down. I hurried toward the entrance of the building that hosted the OB/GYN offices, but he caught up quickly. He wrapped his strong hand around mine and I glared up at him in surprise. He glowered at the building, not meeting my eyes.

  I tugged on my hand, but he wouldn’t release it. “I’m mad at you,” I stated the obvious. “I don’t want to hold your hand.”

  Jack scowled. “I’m mad at you, but I always want to hold your hand. Therein lies the difference between us.”

  Pain and guilt hit me fierce and quick, and my eyes filled with tears before I could stop them. I looked away and stubbornly refused to let the tears fall.

  “Sunrise.” Jack squeezed my hand, his tone remorseful.

  “Forget it.” I jerked away from him as we reached the elevator and hit the button for our floor. How come I was always the bad guy? I wasn’t the one trying to force decisions on us.

  Aren’t you? a little voice whispered. Aren’t you the reason you won’t forgive and forget?

  Yes. But I had my reasons. Jack had just proven that in the truck.

  We stepped inside, alone in the elevator.

  The tension was palpable.

  He didn’t reach for my hand again.

  If the technician who came out to greet us noticed the aggravation between me and Jack, she didn’t show it. She introduced herself as Amy and hopefully took our strained smiles and quiet demeanor for nervousness. It was our first baby scan after all.

  Once I was situated on the bed, Amy asked me to lift the hem of my top and unbutton my jeans. I did, feeling intensely aware of Jack’s eyes on me. I chanced a look at him and saw he was staring intently at my belly.

  “You’re not showing too much yet,” Amy said, “but that’s normal for week twelve. Although that’s what we’re here to determine. If you are twelve weeks.” She smiled and then gestured to my belly. “As for the bump, you’re tall with a longer abdomen, which might mean you’re not going to show for a while.”