The Truest Thing (Hart's Boardwalk 4)

The detective took the folder. “Then we better take this to an interview room. We need my promise of immunity officially recorded.”

Jack at once relaxed and tensed. There was something reassuringly genuine about Sullivan. His gut instinct told him he could trust the guy. That didn’t mean he wasn’t apprehensive as fuck to get the ball rolling on putting Ian away for good.

He left the sheriff’s station about two hours later, feeling drained.

They would arrest his father immediately.

After calling Rebecca to let her know and to warn her about the story in the newspaper tomorrow, Jack drove to Cooper’s Bar. It took him fifteen minutes to talk himself out of the car, another five to open the door to the bar, only for Kit, one of Cooper’s bartenders, to tell him Coop was at home because the doc was sick.

Jack worried about what sick meant.

Also, he didn’t want to go near Cooper’s house because the last time he’d been there, he’d been screwing Dana.

Shit.

The memory still made his stomach roil.

He couldn’t do this.

“Don’t look at it like telling him is a chance for you to get something out of it—look at it for what it is. Cooper deserves the truth, whether or not he forgives you. He deserves to know why you did what you did. As much as losing him hurt you, don’t you think it wrecked him? Don’t you think he wonders every day what the hell made you do that to him?”

As Emery’s voice filled his head, Jack felt the sweet sharpness of it. She was right. His Em was awfully wise.

Wise enough to not want anything do with him anymore.

Getting into his car again, he distracted himself with thoughts of Emery Saunders and why it didn’t feel like his chest was caving in knowing she didn’t want to start a relationship with him. He pondered that thought all night until he realized the truth. He wasn’t drowning in a bottle of whisky over Emery because he didn’t really believe it was the end for them.

Jack had waited nine years to be with her.

He’d wait however long it took now to get her to trust him again.

Worrying over how he’d do that, Jack pulled up to Cooper’s house. That familiar wave of nausea rolled right over him again.

Forcing himself out of the car, he heard Coop and Jess’s dog barking from inside the house. His strides were slow as he walked along the drive, past Coop’s truck and up the porch steps.

Just as Jack reached the porch, the door opened and Jessica stood there in her pajamas. Her skin looked pale and clammy.

He realized how goddamn selfish it was to have come here after being told Jess was sick.

“I’ll leave,” he said.

The doc’s eyes narrowed. “Why are you here?”

“I … uh … I came to talk with Cooper, but if this is a bad time …”

Suddenly, the dog, a huge golden retriever, bounded past Jessica and ran straight for Jack. He chuckled as the beast threw himself at him, his paws landing on Jack’s gut as he stumbled back under the force of the dog’s enthusiasm.

“Louis, down,” Jessica said weakly.

“You okay?” Jack asked, patting the dog as it tried to lick every inch of his hands.

“I’m fine. Cooper’s upstairs running me a bath.”

“I should—”

“Come in.” She stepped aside. “Clearly you have something to say, so you should come in.”

“He might not thank you for it.”