The Truest Thing - Hart's Boardwalk

Not to be trusted.

And I couldn’t understand why that hurt so much more than it should, considering we’d never even had that first date.

7

Jack

Four and a half years ago

Life for Jack was a daily exercise in going through the motions, compartmentalizing the shit he knew about Ian’s dodgy business dealings, and the sour attitude of people who’d known him his whole life. Everyone hated him for betraying Cooper.

Jack despised himself.

Some nights he closed his eyes and all he could see was the look on Cooper’s face when he walked into the house and caught Jack thrusting into Dana.

He hadn’t even wanted her.

But he’d taken what she offered and poured all his frustrations into hate sex.

Rationally, he knew it was for the best.

But it didn’t mean it didn’t fucking hurt. It was like grief. Every day was moving through the weighted fog of mourning.

Jack grieved for the guy he used to be. However, he mourned Cooper more.

His cell was connected to his car and it rang, jerking Jack out of his heavy thoughts. Ian’s name showed on the screen and he sighed, hitting the answer button on the steering wheel. “What is it?”

“Good morning to you too.”

Jack didn’t respond.

Ian sighed. “I’m just checking you’re on your way to Bill Succoth’s place in Millton.”

“Yup. I’m on my way to drop off the contract.”

“Do it with a gentle reminder.”

“I will fucking not.”

Ian sighed again.

Events beyond his control had forced Jack into business with his father, but Jack had to draw the line somewhere. If Ian wanted to blackmail people into doing business with him, he could get Stu or Kerr to do that shit for him. Jack would play errand boy, but he wasn’t blackmailing anyone.

Bill Succoth owned a catering company in Sussex County. He catered to businesses all over, to great success. Ian Devlin wanted Bill to make sandwiches and snacks to be sold at a bakery he’d bought in Aspen Meadows. But Ian didn’t want to pay what everyone else was paying. So, he had Kerr follow the poor guy, discover he was cheating on his wife with a pretty young thing in Essex, and used photographic evidence to blackmail Bill into catering at a discounted rate. And by discounted rate, Ian had barely left any room for the guy to make a profit. It was repulsive.

Just one of many repulsive ways Ian Devlin ran his business.

“Fine. Just get that contract signed.”

Jack hung up before Ian because it gave him a small satisfaction to hang up on his father. He needed to find those moments wherever he could these days.

Parking his car in the lot behind Bill Succoth’s kitchen, Jack grabbed the contract and got out to knock on the rear entry door. It had gotten easier over the last few months to be the cold son of a bitch he needed to be. Because he was frozen. Through and through.

“Oh, it’s you.” Bill glared at Jack as he pushed open the back door to the kitchen.

Jack held up the contract.

Without a word, Bill gestured him inside. Jack ignored the two other people in the kitchen preparing food. He waited in the doorway as Bill washed his hands and strolled back to Jack. He held out the papers to the man, along with a pen.

Bill snatched them out of his hand and placed the paper on the door beside Jack to lean on it. As he signed, he muttered under his breath, “You and your entire family are bottom-feeding scum, you know that, right?”

Jack didn’t flinch. He was way past used to this kind of disdain.

Bill huffed as he handed over the signed contract. “If you were my only business, you’d cripple me with this contract.”

He waited patiently for the man to move aside.

“Nothing to say?”

“I think all that needs to be said has been said. Now move out of my way.”

“Cold son of a bitch,” Bill murmured, stepping aside to let Jack out.

The kitchen door slammed behind him, and Jack drew a deep breath. As he did, a flash of blond hair across the street caught his eye.

He tensed at the sight of Emery Saunders marching down the street. She wore a long coat over what looked like a cream dress, a big blue scarf wrapped around her neck. The tails trailed behind her as she strode with purpose. She disappeared into a brown stucco building before he could have his fill of looking at her.

Emery.

Jack’s pulse picked up and suddenly his feet were moving in that direction.

What was Emery doing in Millton on a Monday morning? Why wasn’t she at the bookstore? Having avoided her the last six months, Jack didn’t know what she was up to these days. He’d barely seen her around town, catching one or two glimpses of her now and then. Glimpses that made him feel temporarily warm and alive.