The Truest Thing (Hart's Boardwalk 4)

“You’re welcome, Emery. I hope this decision has brought you some peace of mind.”

“It has.” I was no longer shackled to that life. Truly. Anonymous. No longer of interest to the world.

“Good. We’ll speak soon.”

We hung up, and a slight smile played on my lips.

I was finally free.

I’d been out on the porch, enjoying a mug of tea, when I heard the banging of the door over the sound of the waves.

So lost in thought about my new future, I startled badly and spilled hot tea on my lap.

Cursing under my breath, I moved into the house to the front door.

“Emery, you home?” Jack’s deep voice sounded through the screen.

Part of me was relieved to hear his voice; another part was wary of him coming to me now. The part that worried about him won out, and I hurried to unlock the door.

Jack’s eyes narrowed as soon as he saw me. “You okay? You took awhile to answer.”

“I was out on the porch. I didn’t hear you over the waves. Are you okay?”

He braced his hands on either side of my doorjamb. “Can I come in?”

On the one hand, I wanted to know how Rebecca was. On the other, I’d promised myself I’d never let him into my house again.

Sensing my indecision, Jack lowered his voice to a level of seduction that was completely unfair. “Please.”

Just like that, I cursed my inability to deny him. I nodded, stepping back to let him in. He didn’t take his eyes off me as he strode into the room. “You sure you’re okay? You seem … I don’t know. There’s something different about you.”

It unnerved me that he seemed to know me so well. I closed the door, giving him my back. “What’s going on, Jack?”

When I turned around, his eyes narrowed again. “Em, what’s going on with you?”

I strode by him. “I spilled hot tea on my leg just as you knocked.” I pointed to my lap. Seeing the continued suspicion in his eyes, I pointed to the sectional. I didn’t want to discuss my news with him. I wanted his news, and then I wanted him gone. “Have a seat.”

He seemed relieved by the invitation and sprawled his long body across my sofa. I tried to ignore how masculine he seemed on my comfy sectional. I lowered onto the opposite end, as far from him as I could get.

Jack’s lips pursed at the action, but he didn’t mention it.

“Is this about Rebecca?”

The polite thing to do would have been to offer him a drink, but I didn’t want to give him the impression that he was welcome to stay.

Jack nodded. Sitting forward, he braced his forearms on his knees. “I’ve been lied to, Em.”

From there Jack told me the tale of what really happened the night that changed his family’s lives. My heart ached for Rebecca and all that she’d been through, and I sensed Jack’s confusion and turmoil over discovering a side to Stu he hadn’t realized existed. I heard the conflict in his tone as he tried to reconcile the man who attacked Bailey with the man who had tried to protect Rebecca.

“It’s not all black and white, Jack,” I reminded him as he fell silent. “Stu wasn’t all bad. That much is clear. But he still stood by and allowed your lives to be ruined to protect himself.”

“And Becs.” Jack sat forward. “He knew Ian would set her up for the murder instead—and me as her accomplice.”

“How? The fingerprints on the weapon were Stu’s.”

“He’d plant hers instead.”

I nodded thoughtfully. “Your father really is the phlegmy mucus on the pile of shit that lives on hell spawn, isn’t he?”