Chapter 12
TWELVE
STELLA
The walk to the front office feels like I’m moving through a dream where the hallways are too bright and the air is too thin.
Kids’ artwork lines the walls—handprint turkeys, crooked hearts, glitter-covered “I LOVE SCHOOL!” posters—and it all looks normal enough to make me feel insane.
Because my stomach is telling me something isn’t normal.
Because last month, there was funding.
And yesterday, Principal Hanover looked me in the eye and told me there wasn’t.
I knock once, then step into his office before he can call me in.
Hanover looks up from behind his desk, surprise flashing across his face—quick, then gone. He replaces it with a smile that’s too smooth.
“Ms. Hart,” he says pleasantly. “Is everything alright?”
“No,” I say.
The word lands heavy.
Hanover blinks. “I—excuse me?”
I shut the door behind me. Not hard. Just… final.
“I’m not here to be polite,” I say, my voice steady even though my hands are shaking. “I’m here because I have questions. And I’m done being brushed off.”
Hanover’s smile tightens. “Stella, I understand you’re passionate about your program, but—”
“It’s not just my program,” I cut in. “It’s the kids program. It’s Evan. It’s families who need help. And you told me there was no money.”
His expression flickers. “Budget constraints change—”
“Stop,” I say, sharper. “I saw the funding. I read the staff notes. You announced it. You asked for volunteers.”
Hanover leans back in his chair like he’s settling into a lecture. “Are you accusing me of lying?”
I take a slow breath.
This is the moment where I usually soften. Where I make myself small so men with titles don’t feel threatened.
Not today.
“Yes,” I say. “I am.”
His eyes harden, just for a second. Then his smile returns—colder now. “Stella. You’re upset. You’ve had a lot going on. Perhaps you should take a personal day.”
My skin prickles. I step closer to his desk, keeping my tone calm on purpose. “Where did the money go?”
His jaw tightens. “It was reallocated.”
“To what?”
“Facilities and safety upgrades,” he says briskly.
My stomach drops, but my mind clicks. “Safety upgrades,” I repeat. “Like what? Cameras? Locks? A gate? Did you get bids? Purchase orders? Anything?”
Hanover’s eyes narrow. “That information isn’t for staff.”
“Funny,” I say, my voice trembling despite my effort. “Because this is all too convenient.”
Hanover stands.
Not all the way—just enough to loom, just enough to try to make me feel like I should back up.
I don’t.
“Stella,” he says, voice lower now, warning threaded through it, “I suggest you return to your classroom.”
My heart pounds hard, but I keep going.
“I think there’s something fishy going on.”
It hits me all at once—how quickly his tone shifted, how the air changed.
“Where’s the money?” I whisper.
Hanover’s gaze flicks to the floor. “You’re sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong, Ms. Hart.”
My voice comes out thin. “What do you mean?”
Hanover’s gaze sharpens. “I tried to scare you off. Maybe make you quit teaching altogether, but you’re a persistent little thing.”
A cold wave washes over me.
He tried to make me quit?
I swallow hard, trying to keep my face composed. “You’re embezzling the funds, aren’t you?”
Hanover shrugs like it’s nothing. “I really don’t see how this is any of your concern.”
My pulse races. “Are you kidding?”
Hanover steps closer, lowering his voice like he’s offering advice. “You’re a kindergarten teacher, why don’t I cut you in.”
He’s grasping.
My hands curl into fists at my sides. I shake my head. “No. Those funds were for the kids.”
Hanover’s face is tight, defensive. “It was supposed to be clean. Donations. Transfers. A little here, a little there. I can cut you in. Don’t be stupid.”
My stomach twists. “Stupid?”
Hanover snaps, “It’s not stealing—it’s reallocation. It’s—”
“Fraud,” I say, staring him down. “You’re committing fraud.”
Hanover doesn’t speak. Instead he just stares at me like I’ve hurt his puppy. He sucks in a deep breath and lets it out smoothly. “I can’t let you report this.”
My eyes widen. “What are you saying?”
Hanover looks pissed, his head shaking from side to side. “Just make this easier for everyone. Take the money.”
“I can’t be bought.” What kind of person would that make me? “You broke into my home.”
Hanover slams a fist on his desk. “It was to scare you. Listen, this is bigger than you. Bigger than me. Seriously, step away.”
“I can’t. I won’t.”
“You leave me now choice then.” He steps closer, and I back away. Hanover’s gaze darts again to the door—like he’s nervous, like he wants this over fast. “Fine. I’ll just have to relocate you now.”
The room tilts.
My skin goes cold. “What?”
Hanover’s tone stays mild, like he’s discussing weather. “You’ll disappear for a little while. A trip. A break. Somewhere you can’t make calls or ask questions.”
My throat closes. “No.”
Hanover swallows, sweat gleaming at his temple. “It doesn’t have to be violent. It’ll be easier if you cooperate.”
My mind scrambles.
Jack.
He’s outside my classroom. He’s always there.
Except… I came here without telling him.
Because I thought I was being brave.
Because I thought I was being smart.
Because I thought—
The door slams open.
Hard.
So hard it bangs against the wall.
Hanover jerks forward.
And Jack fills the doorway like a storm given a body.
His eyes are dark—feral, furious, locked on me first, scanning me for injuries, then snapping to Hanover like he’s already a dead man walking.
“Step away from her,” Jack says. His voice is low and lethal.
Hanover recovers fast, lifting his hands a fraction. “Ah. The bodyguard.”
Jack doesn’t blink. “Now.”
Hanover’s face goes pale. “Jack, this is—”
Jack takes one step in, and the air changes. And Hanover seems to shrink back instinctively. “You don’t want to do this here. In a school.”
Jack’s jaw flexes. “You’re the one who brought it here.”
Hanover’s eyes flick to the desk—toward the phone, toward the buttons on his keyboard like he might trigger an alarm.
Jack moves faster than I can track—one smooth, controlled motion that puts him between me and them. His hand stays at my back, firm and protective, like an anchor.
“Stella,” he murmurs, voice softer just for me. “Behind me.”
I stumble back a step, my legs unsteady.
Hanover tries to slide sideways—toward the door. Toward escape.
Jack’s voice cuts through the room. “Don’t.”
Hanover freezes. “You can’t arrest me.”
“No,” Jack agrees. “But I can hold you.”
Hanover’s eyes are wild now, darting. “This is a misunderstanding—”
“Shut up,” I snap, my fear turning to anger so sharp it steadies me. “You were going to take me.”
Hanover flinches like I slapped him. He exhales like he’s annoyed the day didn’t go his way. “You think you’ve won because the tough guy showed up?”
Jack doesn’t answer. His hand tightens at my back. Not painful. Just… there.
Then I hear it—
Footsteps pounding down the hallway.
Voices.
Wyatt.
“Stella!” Wyatt’s shout is sharp, panicked.
Hanover’s eyes narrow. “You called the cavalry.”
Jack’s mouth is a hard line. “Always.”
The door opens wider as Wyatt barrels in with two deputies behind him, faces grim.
Wyatt’s gaze lands on me first—his face cracking with relief for half a second—then his eyes go nuclear when he takes in Hanover.
“Hands,” Wyatt barks. “Now!”
Hanover lifts his hands slowly, but his eyes stay cold. “This is insane.” His breathing is too fast. Too panicked.
And then—like a cornered animal—Hanover lunges.
Not at Jack.
At me.
He grabs for my arm, yanking me toward him like I’m a shield.
My body jolts with terror—pure, white-hot.
But something in me snaps into place.
I’m done being prey.
I twist, wrenching my arm free, and shove him hard with both hands.
Hanover stumbles back into his desk, knocking a stack of papers onto the floor. He grabs for me again—clumsy, desperate.
I recoil, then swing my elbow back instinctively, catching him in the chest as I scramble away.
Not elegant. Not cinematic.
But enough.
Jack moves like lightning, catching Hanover and slamming him back against the wall—pinning him there, controlled and furious, not striking, just immobilizing him.
Hanover’s face stays calm, but his eyes burn with hatred. “You don’t understand what you just stepped into.”
Wyatt shoves him forward. “Oh, I understand plenty.”
Hanover’s voice is frantic, breaking. “Please—please, this isn’t—”
“Save it,” Wyatt snarls. “You stole from our school. You threatened my sister.”
A deputy cuffs Hanover as he sputters excuses.
Jack turns to me the second Hanover is secured, his hands on my shoulders, eyes scanning my face like he’s trying to make sure I’m still real. “Are you hurt?” he demands.
I swallow, throat tight. “No.”
Jack’s gaze drops to my arm, checking for bruises, then back to my eyes. His voice breaks just slightly. “You scared me. Don’t ever do that again.”
I blink fast, fighting tears. “I know. I’m sorry.”
Wyatt steps closer, breathing hard. “Stella.”
I look at my brother. His eyes are fierce, but his hands are shaking. “I’m okay,” I whisper.
Wyatt pulls me into a crushing hug that steals my breath. “You scared the hell out of me.”
“I scared the hell out of me too,” I mumble into his shoulder.
Behind Wyatt, Hanover is being walked out, still trying to keep his composure.
“You can’t prove anything,” he says smugly.
Wyatt smiles without humor. “Try me.”
I lift my chin and stare back.
Not today.
He’s led out.
When the office finally empties, the room feels too bright. Too normal. Like it can’t hold what just happened.
I exhale shakily and sink onto the chair in front of Hanover’s desk, legs suddenly weak.
Jack crouches in front of me, hands braced on my knees, eyes locked on mine. “Talk to me.”
My voice cracks. “I thought… I thought if I had proof, he’d have to listen.”
Jack’s expression softens, but the anger is still there under it. “You were right. But you walked into a closed room with a man who wasn’t playing by the rules.”
Tears burn behind my eyes. “I’m sorry.”
Jack’s thumb brushes my knee gently, grounding me. “Don’t apologize for caring. Apologize for risking yourself.”
I nod once, swallowing hard. “Okay.”
Wyatt returns after handing off paperwork to the deputies. He looks at me, then Jack, then shakes his head like he’s still trying to slow his heartbeat.
“You did good,” Wyatt tells me, voice rough. “And you did dumb.”
“Thank you,” I say weakly.
Wyatt huffs a humorless laugh. “Sheriff’s taking Hanover downtown. Grayson’s already coordinating with the district. That money trail? It’s real. He’s done.”
Relief hits me so hard I almost fold.
Jack stands and pulls me into him, holding me close like he’s making sure the world can’t touch me again. His lips press to my hair.
“You’re safe,” he murmurs.
I cling to him for a second, breathing him in like oxygen.
“I’m safe,” I whisper back.
That night, we’re back at the cabin. They want me to stay one more night to make sure Hanover wasn’t working with any accomplices.
Wyatt insisted on dropping by first—checking locks, checking windows, glaring at the trees like they personally offended him. He finally leaves with a warning that I’m not allowed to “play detective” ever again.
Then it’s just me and Jack.
Quiet.
Warm.
The kind of quiet that feels like a new start instead of a hiding place.
We sit on the couch with a blanket over our legs. Jack’s arm is around me, firm and steady. His thumb traces slow, absent circles against my side like he needs the contact as much as I do.
I tilt my head up. “So… we caught the bad guy.”
Jack’s mouth twitches. “Wyatt caught ‘em.”
“You found the thread,” I counter.
Jack looks at me, eyes dark but soft. “You pulled it.”
I swallow, emotion rising. “I hate that this happened. But… Safe Steps mattered. It still matters.”
“It will happen,” Jack says simply.
I blink. “What?”
He holds my gaze. “Grayson’s already talking to the district about restoring the funds. And there’s going to be scrutiny now. They’ll need a program like yours even more.”
My chest tightens. “Jack…”
His voice is low. “You’re going to help those kids. Including Evan. You’re not stopping because some crooked man tried to use you as leverage.”
My eyes sting. “Okay.”
Jack’s gaze drops to my mouth, then back to my eyes. “And you.”
“What about me?”
His jaw flexes like he’s fighting words. “I’m not leaving.”
My breath catches. “Jack—”
“I’m falling for you,” he says, blunt as a confession. “And I don’t have the energy to pretend I’m not.”
My heart stutters.
He studies my face, like he’s bracing for rejection. Like the world taught him to expect it.
I reach up and cup his jaw, thumb brushing the edge of his cheek. “Good,” I whisper. “Because I’m falling too.”
Something shifts in his expression—relief, heat, something like wonder.
He kisses me then, slow and deep, like he’s sealing the promise into my mouth. His hand slides to the back of my neck, holding me close, making sure I feel the truth of him.
When he pulls back, his forehead rests against mine.
“HEA?” I whisper, half-laughing through my tears.
Jack’s mouth curves, just slightly. “Yeah, Stella.”
His voice drops lower. “Happily. Ever. After.”
And for the first time in days, I believe it.