The Truest Thing (Hart's Boardwalk 4)
He lifted his head, his tortured gaze locking with mine.
I knew what this meant.
I knew something no one else knew about the Devlins.
I knew the real reason Jack went to work for his family and why he’d betrayed Cooper, his best friend.
I knew it all.
And it had everything to do with protecting Rebecca Devlin.
“Oh, Jack,” I whispered, heartbroken for him.
1
Jack
Hartwell
Nine years ago
* * *
It didn’t matter if it was high or low season, Cooper’s Bar was always busy in the evening. Creedence Clearwater Revival played from the jukebox, fighting to be heard over the football game on the bar’s two flat-screen televisions. Football season had just started, and a lot of the locals came to Cooper’s to eat, drink, and watch their favorite game. As Delaware didn’t have an NFL team, most folks in Hartwell were Patriots fans.
Jack split his time between eating his burger, watching the screen above the bar, and talking to Coop while his friend served customers.
There was nothing atypical about the evening.
Jack was foreman of his own construction company, a job usually done by someone older. But Jack had worked in construction since he was fourteen years old. He’d hired Ray English, the guy he’d learned everything about construction from, stealing him away from the competition. He and Ray were more like co-foremen.
They’d closed the site they were working on earlier than usual. It was a private development of a small community of homes, out near Jimtown. Jack tried to keep the weekends free, but sometimes when a client offered a lot for overtime, it was hard to say no. Not only was his team not working the weekend, but with permission from their clients, he’d given them Friday off so they could enjoy the kickoff game with a few beers the night before.
His guys had been working flat out all summer and deserved the extra day. As for Jack, he was looking forward to doing some work to the home he’d bought six months ago in North Hartwell, near Coop’s house.
Yeah, there was nothing out of the ordinary about Jack hanging out at Cooper’s Bar, eating, drinking, and shooting the breeze with his buddy and their local friends.
Old Archie sat at the end of the bar, dressed immaculately from head to toe, despite the fact that he’d probably been drunk for forty-eight straight hours. His real name was Archibald Brown, and he was from old money. He was also an alcoholic whose wife had left him twenty years ago and had taken the kids with her.
People had tried to help. Jack had tried.
It was no good.
Old Archie didn’t want help.
Jack had to learn to let the guy be.
“The Saints are looking good.” Old Archie gestured to the screen.
Jack nodded. They were playing the Minnesota Vikings. “Yeah.”
“Where’s Dana, Coop?” Old Archie asked. “She’s usually here for the first game of the season.”
At the mention of Cooper’s wife, Dana, Jack flicked his buddy a look. Cooper was pulling a pint, not looking at Old Archie as he replied, “She wasn’t feeling it tonight. She’s at home, watching some shit romantic comedy and having something she called ‘self-care time.’”
Jack looked up at the game, afraid the derision he felt was obvious. Self-care time? The woman worked eight hours a week at the salon as a receptionist and then did nothing else. She didn’t help Coop around the house. She didn’t help him at the bar. And she didn’t provide the guy with any kind of support beyond what she gave him in the bedroom. She bought shit Cooper had to work his ass off to afford, and Jack was afraid one day Dana would bury Coop in debt.
Or worse.