Chapter 15 Jack
JACK
The shower had done nothing to settle Jack's mind.
He stood in front of the bathroom mirror, water still beading on his shoulders, and dragged the towel through his hair one more time before hanging it on the rack.
His reflection stared back at him, looking more awake than he felt.
The run with Holly had been good. The conversation afterward had been better.
But now his brain wouldn't stop turning over everything she'd said, everything he'd told her, the offer she'd made that he still couldn't quite believe was real.
Professional help. Free professional help. For the antiques, his family had been neglecting out of sheer financial necessity.
Jack pulled on jeans and a faded work shirt, the fabric soft from years of washing. He laced up his boots and ran his fingers through his still-damp hair, giving up on making it look presentable. It would dry however it wanted to, just as always.
His mind kept drifting back to Holly. The way she'd looked at him when he'd confessed the truth about the inn. Not with pity, but with understanding. With determination. Like his problems were suddenly her problems too, and she was already planning how to fix them.
He shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. He needed coffee. Food. Something to ground him before his brain spun itself into knots over a woman he'd known for three days.
Three days. That's all it had been. How was that possible?
Jack made his way through the family house, past his mother's closed bedroom door and Jane's room at the end of the hall.
Both were still quiet. Julie had never been an early riser, and Jane kept odd hours these days, working on inn projects until late and sleeping whenever exhaustion finally dragged her under.
He pushed through the connecting door into the inn proper, stepping into the hallway that led past the front desk toward the dining room.
The smell of coffee hit him first, rich and dark, followed by the scent of something sweet baking.
Isabella must already be in the kitchen, working her usual morning magic.
But Jack's attention caught on something else.
The office door. Slightly ajar, a wedge of lamplight spilling into the dim hallway.
He stopped, frowning. He'd closed that door last night. He was certain of it. He always closed it, locked it even, especially with that envelope sitting in his desk drawer like a ticking bomb.
His pulse kicked up a notch. Jack glanced around the empty hallway, then approached the door cautiously. If someone had gotten in, if they'd found the foreclosure notice...
Jack pushed the door open wider and stopped short.
Logan sat at Jack's desk, the thick manila envelope spread open in front of him, the foreclosure documents arranged in neat stacks across the surface. He looked up when Jack entered, completely unapologetic, his reading glasses perched on his nose.
"Morning," Logan said, as casual as if he'd been caught reading the newspaper instead of rifling through private legal documents.
"Morning." Jack closed the door behind him and leaned against it, crossing his arms. "Breaking and entering now? Should I be worried?"
"You gave me a key to the house years ago." Logan pulled off his glasses and set them on the desk. "And I took the liberty of adding the office key to it. Although the office door wasn't locked."
Jack's jaw tightened. "I could have sworn I locked it."
"You didn't." Logan's tone was matter-of-fact. "I checked at six this morning when I couldn't sleep and came through to take a more thorough look at the documents." He gestured to the documents. "Have you told Julie or Jane yet?"
"No." Jack moved into the room, sinking into the chair across from his own desk. "I don't know how."
Logan was quiet for a moment, his gaze moving back to the papers as Jack leaned forward with his elbows on his desk. "Have you found anything we can use?" Jack asked, hearing the exhaustion in his own voice. "Anything at all?"
Logan exhaled slowly, leaning back in the chair.
"I only studied law for two years before switching to architecture and engineering.
But I can tell you this much." He tapped the top document.
"You need legal help. Real legal help. These developers are playing hardball, Jack.
This isn't some standard foreclosure notice.
They're accelerating the timeline, putting pressure on the bank to expedite its actions.
And the language in here..." He shook his head.
"It's designed to back you into a corner.
It reminds me of…" he pulled back, but they both knew he was referring to Jack’s architecture business.
Jack's stomach sank. "We can't afford a lawyer. Not with everything else."
"I might have someone who can help." Logan's voice was careful. "And I could probably get them to do it for free."
Jack's back went rigid. "No. Absolutely not."
"Jack—"
"I'm not taking any more handouts." Jack's voice came out sharper than he intended. "I've already taken enough from you. I'm not dragging someone else into this mess and asking them to work for nothing."
Logan's expression hardened. "My help is not a handout, Jack. And you know it."
"The investment, I know. We have the partnership agreement." Jack waved a hand dismissively. "I'm not talking about that. I'm referring to you working here almost for free. And now you want to bring in someone else to do the same?"
"This is different." Logan insisted. “It’s not something you should be navigating without legal advice.”
Again, his tone hinted at Jack’s failed business and how he’d hired an attorney too late and then had to drop the man because he could only afford four consultations.
"No, I’m sorry, Logan,” Jack said. “We have to figure this out on our own. There are these legal AI sites now that can help.”
“That’s the most insane thing I’ve heard you say. Trusting an AI to your legal troubles.” Logan watched Jack with narrowed eyes before shaking his head. "You're being stubborn."
"I'm being practical." Jack rubbed his hands over his face, feeling the scratch of morning stubble against his palms. "Look, I appreciate what you're trying to do. I do. But I can't keep taking from people. It's not right."
"Even if it saves the inn?" Logan’s brows rose.
The question hung in the air between them. Jack stared at his friend, at the determination in Logan's eyes, and felt something crack in his chest.
"I don't know," Jack admitted quietly.
Logan's expression softened. "What happened this morning? On your run with Holly?"
Jack blinked at the subject change. "What?"
"You look different. Less..." Logan gestured vaguely. "Defeated when you came in from your run. You were even humming. I don’t think I’ve ever heard you hum."
Jack felt heat creep up his neck. "We just talked."
"About?"
"Everything." Jack looked down at his hands. "I told her about the inn. About us struggling. About my business, what happened with Pamela and Victor." He paused. "She offered to help us as well."
Logan's eyebrows rose a bit higher. "Help how?"
"With the antiques. The furniture, the paintings. She owns a restoration shop in Miami." Jack looked up, meeting Logan's eyes. "Turns out it's the same shop my mother's been sending pieces to for years. Holly's Antiques and Restorations."
Logan went very still. Then he leaned forward, his expression shifting to something between surprise and amazement.
"That's quite the coincidence." He paused, and a slight smile tugged at his mouth.
"Or like your mom would say: There are no coincidences.
Only the appointments we forgot we made with destiny. "
Despite everything, Jack laughed. The sound felt rusty, unfamiliar, but genuine. "That does sound exactly like something she'd say."
"Your mother has a point sometimes." Logan's smile faded, replaced by something more serious. "Can I take the document to the attorney I know?"
Jack tensed. "Logan—"
"I promise not to let Julie or Jane see it." Logan's voice was firm. "But I need to take it to the attorney I have in mind. We need to move on this, Jack. The timeline is tighter than we thought."
Jack stared at the papers spread across his desk. Every instinct screamed at him to say no, to keep this contained, to handle it himself. But Logan was right. The timeline was accelerating. And Jack had no idea what to do about it.
"Fine," Jack said finally. "But as soon as we're in a better financial position, I insist on paying for their services. Full rate. No discounts."
"Of course." Logan's agreement came too quickly, too easily.
Jack narrowed his eyes. "I mean it."
"I know you do." Logan was already gathering the documents, stacking them carefully. "What are your plans for today?"
"Supplies run into St. Augustine. The kitchen needs restocking, and we need various things for the inn." Jack stood, stretching until his back popped. "The glamorous life of an innkeeper."
"I'm meeting with the attorney." Logan slid the documents back into their original envelope, then pulled open Jack's desk drawer and retrieved a larger manila envelope. He slipped the foreclosure notice inside, hiding the damning red letters. "We need to get ahead of this instead of just reacting."
"Agreed." Jack watched Logan tuck the envelope under his arm. "Meet back here this afternoon for a catch up?"
"Sure." Logan headed for the door, then paused with his hand on the knob. "Thanks for trusting me with this."
"You didn't give me much choice." But Jack's tone was warm. "Oh, before you go. We're all going to the tree lighting tonight in St. Augustine. And by all of us, that includes you."
Logan turned back, his expression cautious. "Who is we all?"
"Me, Jane, Gran, Holly, Trinity, and Charlie."
Something flickered in Logan's eyes at Charlie's name. Interest mixed with wariness, like a man spotting quicksand and debating whether to risk crossing it anyway.