Chapter 39 Jackson
Jackson
The week was punishing from start to finish—almost as if payback were being served for every lighthearted moment he’d stolen at the beach.
Blindsided by Leah’s message from her ex, Jackson had already been off-balance.
He tried to maintain some perspective, tried not to damn her without an explanation, but the turbulent swell it created had left him adrift.
It wasn’t a great foundation for dealing with his father, the missing insurance, and the fucking huge loan they now couldn’t make the repayments on.
At the Barnforth site they viewed the destruction of the overturned crane side by side.
“It could have been worse.” Not much, but it could have. The damage to the building hit by the crane was not too bad. The damage to the crane itself was far more expensive.
His father’s face had a gray cast. The back of his hands, where they clasped the barrier, showed a roadmap of tendons and veins beneath the skin.
“It’ll be $75K or more to get that jib replaced.” Alistair’s voice was raw. “Tell me there’s interest on your grandmother’s house. Tell me I have something to go back to Peake with.”
Jackson swallowed. “There’s nothing at the moment. It’s still not officially on the market.”
His dad closed his eyes. For once, he looked every day of his age. The wolf was at the door; it was time to take action.
“OK, let’s think about this logically.” Jackson’s mind was racing.
“We can’t sell Amity Court quickly and the bats at the Kingswater site mean we can’t turn that around yet.
So, what can we sell? We have more properties between us.
There’s your house, the beach house, and my condo. Which would go fastest?”
“The beach house is in your mother’s name.
I’d need her to sign off on that. Our house is in both our names, so the same goes for there.
” That his father hated every minute of divulging his personal affairs showed in each flare of his nostrils.
“I don’t want to tell her about this unless I absolutely have to. ”
Jackson turned disbelieving eyes on him. “You haven’t told her? Dad, you have to. We could lose the business over this!”
“Not if you sell your condo. It’ll get snapped up if you list it straightaway.” His father’s mouth twisted like a cat rejecting a worming pill. “Please.”
Jackson blinked. He couldn’t remember ever hearing Alistair Hale say “please.”
They left the site together, both driving back to the office, where they shut themselves away to deal with the tangle of events.
By the time the afternoon had dragged into evening, Jackson was done.
Any more coffee and he was going to burst out of his skin.
But without more coffee, he’d never stay awake.
“I’m heading home. You should, too.” He stood, stretched, shrugged on his jacket. “And, for God’s sake, please think about talking to Mom.”
His dad’s phone rang. “It’s Landon.”
Jackson sat down again.
“Hello.” His father answered the call and placed it on loudspeaker.
“Alistair.” Peake’s voice was all business, lacking any hint of amiability. “We need to talk.”
“About anything in particular?”
Landon Peake scoffed. “I have my ear to the ground. And you have a crane in a similar position. Is that going to cause us an issue?”
“I don’t believe so.” His father’s reply was unemotional, although his pulse thundered visibly beneath his jaw. “And how do you know that, anyway?”
Peake ignored the question. “If you can’t pay, I’m prepared to take the house.”
Jackson sucked in a breath.
“Amity Court?” his father queried and they exchanged a blank look.
“Yes. I can see it has potential.” Peake drew out the word.
“You’d pay asking price?”
A chuckle echoed through the phone. “Don’t be ridiculous. That’s not how this works.”
“Then what?”
“I’ll take it in lieu of your interest. You’d still have to settle the debt, Alistair, but it would buy you a little more time.”
The cold fury rolling off his father was almost tangible. Jackson felt the same coursing through his blood. “We won’t be taking you up on that, Landon,” his dad replied through gritted teeth.
Peake paused. “Then make sure I get my money, Alistair. You can ask your wife exactly how serious I am. And my guys have been making friends with your boy’s young lady. I am not someone to mess about with.” Jackson’s phone and his father’s cell pinged at the same time.
Jackson opened the message. His fingers faltered as he studied the grainy image of two figures on a sidewalk in Pine Springs.
It was a simple shot, an ordinary one. The photo looked as if it had been taken across the street from the general store.
A passing car blocked the right-hand side of the picture, but over on the left was Leah, standing in front of a bulky man.
His hands gripped the tops of her arms; the upper half of her body leaned away from him.
The expression on her face wasn’t clear but her body language screamed discomfort.
Shock and sickness tangled in Jackson’s gut.
“She’s not my young lady.” The denial was instinctive, driven by a fierce urge to distance Leah from this fucked-up situation. “She worked with my grandmother and she’s moving on soon.”
“Ah, you’re there too, Jackson! Helpful to speak with you both at the same time.
Saves me a call.” There was a smile in Peake’s voice.
“I’ve asked Repo and Little Jimmy to stick around the local area for a while.
It’ll do them good to get out of Chicago and have a break.
I’ll call again in two days and we can discuss your payment schedule in more depth once you’ve had time to think about my offer. ”
Landon Peake ended the call and the sudden silence was heavy.
“Fuck.” Jackson looked at the photo again.
“You need to get her out of that house. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again—she’s a complication.” His father’s face was grim. The phone rang again in his hand. “It’s your mother,” he muttered as he answered the call. “Hi . . . I’ll be home—”
His mom’s voice, uncharacteristically shrill, cut in over his dad—so loud, Jackson could hear every word.
“The sunroom, Alistair! All the windows are smashed! I’ve just got back from the club and there’s glass everywhere .
. .” Her words cracked and broke. An audible sob echoed over the line.
His father’s face paled; he was out of his chair and grabbing his jacket immediately.
Jackson opened his messages and typed with shaky fingers.
You OK?
To his relief, Leah read it and answered almost immediately.
Leah:
All good here! When will you be back?
He swallowed, then thought of the message from Leah’s ex and put away his phone without replying. He tipped back his head to stare up at the ceiling, a groan ripping through his throat. Grabbing his car keys, he followed his father out of the office.
After helping with the clean-up at his parents’ house until the early hours, Jackson finally reached Amity Court before dawn on Sunday morning with a jumble of emotions in his chest. He searched the property for damage and, finding none, crashed into bed, slept for a fitful few hours, and woke late.
When he stumbled into the kitchen in a desperate, foggy search for coffee, an ebony-haired whirlwind spun around from the stovetop and launched itself at him. Instinct had him catching Leah as she hit his chest. She smelled of pears and hidden truths—the first intoxicating, the second unbearable.
“I saw your car!” Leah bounced as he dropped her back onto her feet. “What time did you get in? I must have been dead to the world. I didn’t hear you at all.”
The feel of her in his arms, the sound of her voice.
It was all too much. He wanted to pull her close and never let her go.
He wanted to shove her away to keep her safe.
He wanted, more than anything, to ask her about that fucking stupid text, but the words wouldn’t come.
Where he needed common sense and clear thinking, he could only find open wounds and old habits.
Jackson retreated behind the solid defenses he’d spent so long perfecting. “It was early and I was quiet. Some of us don’t feel the need to announce our arrival like a fanfare.”
Her smile hitched, before recovering. “Did something happen? I thought you’d make it back for the full weekend.”
“I had to work,” he snapped. Coffee, he just needed coffee.
“Is everything OK, Jax?” Even without meeting Leah’s eyes, he could sense the unease in her face.
“Why would it not be?” Bitterness sparked, fanned by exhaustion. “You tell me, Leah. Why would it not be OK?”
He wanted her to bring it up. Simple words were all he needed.
I’ve been in touch with my ex-boyfriend but it’s nothing serious. I can explain. I’m not choosing him over you. You won’t lose me as well. We can work out the Landon Peake thing together.
Leah’s mouth moved but no words came out.
A furrow rippled between her eyebrows and Jackson found himself watching her lips, the soft curves sending a familiar shiver of awareness over his skin.
He knew them so well now. The way they tasted, the feel of them around the most intimate parts of himself.
He thought of Peake’s guy being this close to Leah, and rage made him lightheaded in his impotence; his hands were tied in so many ways.
Hell was being desperate to protect her from Peake’s attention but crippled by the thought of keeping her at arm’s length.
It was having to be at Amity Court to fulfil the terms of Esther’s request but not knowing if his being there brought an added danger.
Aching to hold her but not quite trusting her.
Jackson thrust a pod into the coffee machine and flipped the switch. “If we’ve got people coming over later, I need to head out and pick up some supplies. It won’t happen on its own.”
For once, Leah continued to say nothing; instead he could feel her inspecting him closely, as if she was trying to make sense of his inner thoughts.