Page 54 of The Sandover Beach Billionaire

Chapter Seventeen

Jackson could not remember feelingrage like this. Hot, piercing, painful. He was practically panting with it. His adrenaline surged, sending sweat down his back and making his hands clench on the wheel.

People often described anger like feeling as though you were going to explode. To Jackson, it felt like his head was trapped in a vise grip that grew tighter and tighter, crushing him with intense pressure that had to release somehow.

You should go home, take it out on the bag.

But he didn’t want to direct his fists there. Not today. He had a different target.

He peeled out of the parking lot in his Jeep, hitting the causeway and heading toward the marina where Steve ran charters: yachts, deep sea rentals, sunset cruises, dolphin tours. The kind of thing On Islanders avoided and tourists flocked to. A party boat, where Steve was rumored to party as hard as the guests. The thought of it made Jackson’s lip curl. He couldn’t shake the mental image of Steve and Jenna kissing. His stomach turned over.

How could she do it? Knowing what it felt like to be cheated on, Jenna was the last person Jackson would have expected to do this. No matter their history. It felt like Jackson had been dropped right back into the middle of high school drama. But this hurt so much more. He had finally dared to hope for a future with Jenna. He’d been looking for houses to encourage her to stay. And she kissed Steve. Of all people, that same guy that had her so fooled in high school.

And his wife was pregnant! Not that it was a surprise that Steve was running around on Anna. The whole island knew. Anna must have known, though she kept her nose just as high in the air as she always had, playing a part. Acting like she didn’t know. Maybe she didn’t.

Jackson accelerated and passed a slow minivan. He whipped back into the lane so close in front of them that they honked. He sped up.

A scenario played on a loop in his head, half memory, half imagined.

Jenna in his office, telling him that she had kissed Steve.

Steve kissing Jenna, his arms around her waist and her hands in his hair.

Jackson barreling out of his Jeep at the marina and punching the smile off Steve’s face in front of a group of Off Islanders.

Each time the loop played, the details shifted. The first part was always short. He needed the reminder to fuel his rage.

The second part sent it blazing. Once, in the scenario, Steve looked at him over Jenna’s shoulder, meeting his eyes. Once, Jenna did.

In the third part he felt only sweet satisfaction at the feel of bone crunching under his knuckles. The heat from his anger in full force, burning it all down.

He squeezed the steering wheel between his hands.

Jackson dangerously close to completely out of control. It had been years since he had felt so incapable of calming himself down. He remembered the satisfaction of his fist connecting with Steve’s face back in high school, watching the smug look disappear from his face.

That night a bunch of guys had been hanging out at the pier. Jackson had never liked Steve, and not just because he was with Jenna. He felt like Steve had everyone fooled into thinking he was some good guy. But he hadn’t been then and certainly wasn’t now.

He hadn’t meant to fight him, though. Mostly they ran in different circles.

But that night in high school when he punched him—and Jackson felt more fury rising up even thinking about it—Steve had been talking not just about Rachel, but Jenna too. Typical guy talk—the kind that made him feel dirty being a guy.

“Heard you had a good time with Rachel on the beach, Jackson. Guess she puts out more than her sister. Jenna wanted to wait for marriage,” Steve had said, shaking his head. A few other guys had groaned. “I got tired of waiting, so I moved on with Anna. Guess I should have picked the other sister.”

Before he knew what was even happening, Jackson’s fist had connected with Steve’s face. It took three guys to pull him off. Jackson had simply lost it. Just as he was about to lose it now. Except they weren’t just kids now and this wasn’t a spur of the moment thing. The longer he drove, the higher his stress levels rose.

Turn around, man. Not worth it.

The voice of reason in his head sounded very much like Beau.

Who at that moment passed him on the causeway, going the opposite direction in the fire station’s red SUV. Beau’s head turned as they passed, his eyes hidden behind aviator sunglasses. He lifted a hand in greeting, but Jackson didn’t respond. He ground his teeth, hoping that Beau would just keep driving the other way.

But in the rearview mirror, he saw the SUV’s brake lights. Beau made a U-turn and sped up behind him. Jackson pounded his hands on the wheel. Beau passed him, then pulled in front of Jackson, hitting the brakes hard. The other lane was full of cars and Jackson was blocked in. Jackson jammed his foot on the brake and stopped before his bumper made contact with the red SUV. But barely. The cars behind him honked and stopped as well, putting on their blinkers to get around.

“Are you trying to kill me?!” Jackson yelled out of his open window.

The SUV put on its hazards and Beau put a tanned arm out the driver’s side window, waving Jackson to pull over onto the shoulder. He considered revving the engine and blowing by Beau, but crawled to a stop behind the SUV instead. For a moment Jackson considered gunning it and speeding away, but he knew Beau would just follow, so he pulled over on the shoulder behind him, hearing a few more horns blaring from the road.

Jackson was out of the Jeep almost before it was fully in park, and marched up to the SUV. Beau climbed out of the driver’s seat and leaned up against the side of the SUV, almost lazily. Country music still played on the radio, Beau’s favorite.

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