Jack pushed his food around his plate and tried not to think about the look on Holly’s face when she had walked out of that café. He tried not to wonder what Simon had said to her. The rational part of Jack’s brain kept insisting that Logan was right. That there had to be a reasonable explanation. That Holly would never betray him or his family.
But the wounded part of his heart, the part that still carried scars from Pamela’s betrayal, kept whispering doubts. Jack stood up, leaving his half-eaten dinner on the table, and walked out onto the back porch. The evening was cool, the ocean breeze carrying the scent of salt and the distant sound of waves. The Christmas lights his mother had strung along the porch railing twinkled softly, and beyond them, the dark expanse of the Atlantic stretched to the horizon.
This inn had been in his family for generations. His great-great-grandfather had built it with his own hands, his father had maintained it with love and dedication, and Jack had come back to help save it from being swallowed up by developers who saw it as nothing more than prime real estate.
He couldn’t lose this place. He wouldn’t lose it.
But he also could not shake the feeling that he was about to lose something else. Something that, just days ago, had felt like it might be the beginning of a real future.
Jack heard the door open behind him and turned to see Logan stepping out onto the porch.
“Thought I’d find you out here,” Logan said, coming to stand beside him at the railing. “Brooding?”
“Thinking,” Jack corrected.
“Same thing when you’re doing it,” Logan said with a slight smile. Then his expression sobered. “Have you talked to Holly yet?”
“She came to find me earlier,” Jack said. “Cancelled our dinner plans. Said she had to go Christmas shopping.”
“And you still didn’t ask her about Simon?” Logan’s tone was incredulous.
“She didn’t tell me about meeting him,” Jack said. “If she wanted me to know, she would have said something.”
“Or maybe,” Logan suggested carefully, “she’s planning to tell you but hasn’t found the right moment. Or maybe she’s scared you’ll react exactly the way you’re reacting right now. You know, assuming the worst instead of giving her the benefit of the doubt.”
Jack was quiet for a long moment. “What if I give her the benefit of the doubt and I’m wrong? What if I trust her and she’s been working with Simon this whole time?”
“Then you’ll deal with it,” Logan said simply. “But Jack, you can’t let Pamela’s betrayal poison every relationship you try to have. Holly is not Pamela. You know that.”
“Do I?” Jack asked quietly.
Logan sighed and clapped a hand on Jack’s shoulder. “Yeah, you do. You’re just scared. And I get it. But don’t let fear destroy something good before it even has a chance to grow.”
Jack nodded slowly, but the doubt remained, sitting heavy in his chest.
They stood there in silence for a while, watching the lights reflect off the dark water, both lost in their own thoughts.
Finally, Logan spoke again. “Charlie and I are getting close to identifying the developer. We’ve found some connections that are... interesting. We should have solid information in the next day or two.”
“That’s good,” Jack said, though he could not muster much enthusiasm.
“It is,” Logan agreed. “And when we do find out who it is, we’re going to stop this sale. You hear me? We’re going to save the inn.”
Jack wanted to believe that. Wanted to believe they could save the inn, save his family’s legacy, save whatever future he might have with Holly.
But right now, standing on the porch of his family’s inn with the weight of generations on his shoulders and doubtpoisoning his heart, Jack was not sure he believed in much of anything anymore.
The only thing he was sure of was that one way or another, the truth would come out.
It always did.
12
JANE
Jane woke to the sound of rain drumming against her bedroom window. She lay there for a moment, listening to the steady rhythm, feeling a mixture of relief and disappointment. Relief because she was not sure she could have managed their usual morning painting session today, not with everything churning through her mind. Disappointment because those quiet hours on the boardwalk with Gabe had become something she looked forward to more than she wanted to admit.
She glanced at her phone on the nightstand. Five-fifteen in the morning. Still early, but she knew she would not be going back to sleep. Her mind was too active, spinning with questions that had kept her awake for most of the night. Jane quickly sent Gabe a message:
