Chapter 16
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Faith woke to the smell of coffee and bacon drifting up from the kitchen. For a moment, she forgot about the events of the previous night. Sunlight streamed through her bedroom windows, and the house felt peaceful in a way it hadn’t for weeks.
Then she remembered, the stalker was caught. Her nightmare was over.
She found Ruth, Jake, and Gretchen in the kitchen.
Gretchen was at the stove, efficiently managing what looked like enough breakfast to feed a small army, while Ruth held court at the kitchen table, still wearing her leopard-print robe but having traded the rhinestone tiara for a more practical headband.
Jake looked like he hadn’t slept at all, dark circles under his eyes and his hair standing at odd angles.
“Well, there’s the woman of the hour,” Ruth announced, gesturing to Faith with a coffee mug.
“I was just telling Jake that Detective Webb called. Your stalker’s name is Marcus Henley.
He worked in the station’s research department—had access to all the archived interviews, background files, everything. ”
Faith sank into a chair, the final piece of the puzzle clicking into place. “That’s how he knew about Steve. He had access to all my old interviews, the background research Lucy’s team did when I first started at the station.”
“Sick little weasel,” Ruth continued with disgust. “Apparently he’d been obsessing over you for months, collecting information, building this fantasy relationship in his head. When you started talking to Jake on the show, he snapped.”
Jake remained silent, nursing his coffee and avoiding Faith’s eyes. She studied his profile, noting the tension in his jaw, the way he held himself apart from their conversation.
“Jake?” Faith’s voice was tentative. “Are you okay?”
“Fine,” he said curtly, still not looking at her.
Gretchen cleared her throat from the stove. “I’ll just take this breakfast up to my apartment,” she said diplomatically, already transferring food to a tray. “Leave you folks to sort things out.”
Ruth’s eyes darted between them, her sharp gaze picking up on the undercurrents. “And I think I’ll go call Edward and tell him about last night’s adventure. He’ll be so proud that his fireplace poker lessons paid off.”
She bustled out of the kitchen, leaving Faith and Jake alone in a silence that felt heavier than the Victorian’s old beams.
“Jake, what’s wrong?” Faith tried again. “The stalker’s caught. It’s over. We should be celebrating.”
Jake finally looked at her, and Faith was startled by the pain in his blue eyes. “Is it over, Faith? Really?”
“What do you mean?”
Jake set down his coffee mug with deliberate precision. “Last night, when that bastard mentioned Steve, you froze. Completely froze. For a moment, you weren’t here—you were somewhere else, somewhere he put you.”
Faith felt her defenses rising. “I was shocked. Anyone would have reacted?—”
“No.” Jake’s voice was quiet but firm. “That wasn’t shock. That was terror. Pure, bone-deep terror of a man who’s been dead for five years.”
The words hit Faith like a physical blow. “That’s not?—”
“Isn’t it?” Jake stood abruptly, pacing to the window.
“Faith, I’ve been walking on eggshells around you for weeks, trying to figure out how to love you without triggering whatever landmines Steve left behind.
And last night, watching you crumble at the mere mention of his name…
” He turned back to her, frustration and anguish warring in his expression.
“How am I supposed to compete with a ghost?”
“You’re not competing with anyone!” Faith’s voice rose. “Steve is dead. He can’t hurt me anymore.”
“Can’t he?” Jake’s laugh was bitter. “He’s been controlling your choices from the grave, Faith.
Every time I try to get close to you, every time we have a moment of real intimacy, you pull away.
You flinch when I touch you unexpectedly.
You panic when I raise my voice. You won’t even let me love you properly because you’re so terrified I’ll turn into him. ”
Faith shot to her feet, her chair scraping against the floor. “That’s not fair. I’ve been trying?—”
“Trying to manage me,” Jake interrupted. “Trying to control every interaction so you feel safe. But that’s not a relationship, Faith. That’s damage control.”
The kitchen felt too small, the air too thick. Faith wrapped her arms around herself, a gesture Jake recognized as pure self-protection. “So what are you saying? That I’m too broken for you? Too damaged?”
“I’m saying you’re still married to him.” The words came out harsher than Jake intended, but he couldn’t take them back. “Not legally, but emotionally. Steve Slater is still dictating the terms of your life, and until you’re willing to bury him for good, there’s no room for anyone else.”
Faith’s face went white. “How dare you. How dare you throw my trauma back in my face like it’s some character flaw I should just get over.”
“That’s not what I’m doing?—”
“Yes, it is!” Faith’s professional composure finally cracked completely.
“You think because you’ve read a few psychology articles and watched me work through my issues, you understand what it’s like?
You think healing from abuse is like recovering from a broken bone—just give it time and therapy and everything goes back to normal? ”
Jake ran his hands through his hair, frustration radiating from every line of his body. “I think you’re a brilliant therapist who helps other people heal from their trauma every single day, but you won’t apply that same wisdom to your own life.”
“Don’t.” Faith’s voice was deadly quiet. “Don’t you dare use my profession against me.”
“Then stop hiding behind it!” Jake’s control finally snapped. “You give other people permission to be vulnerable, to take risks, to trust again. But when it comes to your own life, you’re still that terrified twenty-two-year-old who thought marriage was supposed to be a fairy tale.”
The silence that followed was deafening. Faith stared at Jake as if he’d struck her, her green eyes bright with unshed tears and fury.
“You want to know what I think?” she said finally, her voice trembling with emotion.
“I think you’re just as scared as I am. You fell for the idea of rescuing me, of being the knight in shining armor who saves the broken princess.
But now that you’re confronted with the reality of what that means—the hard work, the setbacks, the fact that healing isn’t linear—you’re looking for an exit strategy. ”
Jake’s jaw clenched. “That’s not true.”
“Isn’t it? Because the moment I shared my truth with you, everything changed.
You started treating me like I was made of glass, like I might shatter if you touched me too firmly or kissed me too passionately.
You turned me into a victim in your mind, and now you resent me for not magically transforming into the woman you thought you were saving. ”
“Faith—”
“No, let me finish.” Faith’s voice grew stronger, more certain.
“You say you love me, but what you really love is the idea of me. The fantasy of the successful, independent woman who just needed the right man to complete her. Well, I’m not a fairy tale, Jake.
I’m a real person with real scars, and if that’s too messy for you, then maybe we both need to admit this was a mistake. ”
Jake stared at her for a long moment, and Faith saw something break behind his eyes.
“Maybe you’re right,” he said quietly. “Maybe I did fall in love with an idea instead of a person.”
The admission hung between them like a blade. Faith felt something in her chest collapse, a hope she hadn’t even realized she’d been nurturing.
“So where does that leave us?” she whispered.
Jake was quiet for so long that Faith wondered if he’d heard her.
When he finally spoke, his voice was rough with emotion.
“I love you, Faith. I love your strength, your compassion, your brilliant mind, your stubborn independence. I love the way you light up when you talk about your work, and the way you make me want to be a better man.” He paused, meeting her eyes.
“But I wonder if you love yourself enough to give us a fair chance. Because until you do, we’re just going to keep hurting each other. ”
Faith felt the walls slamming back into place, the familiar armor of self-protection clicking into position. This was what she’d been afraid of all along—that moment when someone she cared about looked at her and found her wanting.
“Maybe we need some time to think about this,” she said, her voice carefully neutral. “Some space to figure out what we really want.”
Jake nodded slowly, though Faith could see the pain in his expression. “Yeah. Maybe we do.”
They stood there for a moment, the weight of everything unsaid hanging between them. Then Jake grabbed his jacket from the chair and headed for the door.
“Jake—” Faith started.
He paused at the threshold but didn’t turn around. “I’ll send someone to finish the punch list on the house. The renovation’s basically done anyway.”
And then he was gone, leaving Faith standing alone in her perfect kitchen, in her perfectly restored house, feeling more broken than she had in years.
Later that day, after Faith had called Lucy to arrange time off and rescheduled her upcoming appointments, she found Ruth in the living room, organizing her own belongings with military precision.
“Going somewhere?” Faith asked, though she suspected she already knew the answer.
Ruth looked up from folding what appeared to be a sequined evening gown. “Edward’s picking me up this afternoon. I figured you might need some space to think things through.”
“I’m going home for Christmas,” Faith said quietly. “To visit my parents. Take some time to figure things out.”
Ruth’s sharp blue eyes—so like Jake’s—studied Faith’s face. “Running away, you mean.”
“Taking some time to think.”
“Same thing, different words.” Ruth sat back on her heels. “You know, in my ninety years, I’ve seen a lot of people make a lot of mistakes. But the biggest ones always seem to involve letting fear make decisions that the heart should be making.”
Faith sank onto the couch, suddenly exhausted. “Ruth, I can’t be what he needs. I’m too…broken.”
“Horsepockey.” Ruth’s profanity was delivered with such matter-of-fact authority that Faith blinked in surprise. “You’re no more broken than anyone else who’s lived through something difficult. The difference is, most people don’t have the courage to admit they’ve got cracks in their foundation.”
“You don’t understand?—”
“I understand plenty.” Ruth’s voice was gentle but firm.
“I understand that my grandson fell in love with a woman who’s spent so many years protecting herself that she’s forgotten how to let someone else share the load.
And I understand that you’re so terrified of being hurt again that you’d rather walk away from the best thing that’s ever happened to you than risk finding out whether love might actually work this time. ”
Faith felt tears threatening, but she blinked them back. “What if it doesn’t work? What if I can’t give him what he needs?”
“What if it does work?” Ruth countered. “What if you can? What if this time, you get the fairy tale ending you deserved all along?”
Faith shook her head. “I don’t believe in fairy tales anymore.”
Ruth was quiet for a moment, then reached over and took Faith’s hand in her soft, age-spotted ones. “Then maybe it’s time to write a new story. One where the princess saves herself, and the prince just happens to be there when she’s ready to be saved.”
Two hours later, Faith stood in her driveway with a suitcase at her feet, waiting for the taxi she’d called.
Ruth had already left with Edward, but not before giving Faith a fierce hug and whispering, “Don’t stay away too long, dear. Some mistakes are harder to undo than others.”
Now Faith stood alone in front of the Victorian that had become her sanctuary, her home, her symbol of everything she’d thought she wanted. The house was beautiful—fully restored, perfectly appointed, every detail exactly as she’d dreamed.
It was also empty. And for the first time since she’d bought it, Faith wondered if a house could ever really be a home when there was no one to share it with.
The taxi pulled up, and Faith picked up her suitcase. She didn’t look back as they drove away. She’d gotten good at that too—the art of leaving without looking back.
But as the Victorian disappeared behind the trees, Faith couldn’t shake the feeling that this time, she might be leaving behind the one thing she’d been searching for all along.