Chapter 5
Hannah
Right. He'd had that early job. Couldn't stay over.
She pulled his pillow closer, breathing in the lingering scent of his soap, and fumbled for her phone. No response to her good morning text yet, but that wasn't surprising. Normal people—people who didn't run bakeries—were still sleeping at this hour.
Maybe it was time to have that conversation. The one about his lease, about taking the next step. They practically lived together already—his toothbrush in her bathroom, his favorite coffee mug in her cabinet, his tools scattered around her apartment like he belonged there.
Because he did belong there. With her.
Hannah stretched, letting herself imagine it for a moment.
Waking up to Jake every morning, not just most mornings.
His clothes hanging next to hers in the closet.
His razor on her sink, permanently this time.
Not having to wonder if tonight would be a night he stayed over, because every night would be their night.
Her phone lit up with a weather alert—chance of rain later. She typed out another message for Jake to see once he was awake:
Might need help with that leaky awning if it rains. I'll make it worth your while...
The wooden floors were cool under her bare feet as she padded to the bathroom. Her reflection stared back at her—dark hair tousled from sleep, wearing one of Jake's old t-shirts that she'd claimed months ago.
She should ask him tonight. About moving in together. About making this thing between them official in every way it could be.
After all, what was the point in waiting when you knew, deep in your bones, that you'd found your forever?
Hannah smiled at her reflection, already picturing Jake's face when she asked. He'd probably laugh, tell her he'd been waiting for her to bring it up. Maybe mention how half his stuff was here anyway.
Then he'd kiss her, slow and deep, the way only Jake could kiss—like she was precious, like she was everything.
She missed him this morning.
Even if only to see his sleeping face while she snuck out of bed and went to start the morning's bake.
She was greedy for him—greedy for the way he fit into her world so perfectly.
The way his arms wrapped around her in the middle of the night, instinctively pulling her close.
The way he stole kisses before she'd even had her first sip of coffee.
Jake had a way of making her feel claimed—protected, safe, loved.
Jake wasn't temporary. Not in her life. Not in her heart.
She knew—knew—that eventually, it wouldn't be "her bed" and "his apartment". It would be theirs. Their space. Their home.
She smiled to herself, dusting flour from her hands. Maybe tonight. Maybe after the bakery closed, when they were curled up on the couch, his big body warm against hers. Maybe she'd say it then.
Come live with me.
Hannah shook her head, laughing to herself. God, she had it bad.
And she didn't even care.
The scent of cinnamon and sugar curled through Sugar Mary's knuckles white around her cane; Mr. Wilson shaking his head in slow disbelief.
People who'd watched her grow up, who'd celebrated every milestone, now stared at her like she was a stranger.
A camera clicked. Someone whispered. The sound grew, spreading through her bakery like poison.
Tears burned her eyes as a lifetime of trust crumbled around her. Then her mind latched onto the only lifeline it could find.
Jake.
Jake would fix this. That's what he did—he fixed things. He fixed her sink, he fixed her awning. Her breath hitched as the agents guided her toward the door. "Please," she gasped. "Let me call someone—"
The cuffs bit deeper as she twisted toward the agent holding her arm. "I get a call, right?"
He barely glanced at her. "Once you're processed."
Processed. The word sent ice through her veins.
She didn't belong in a process. She belonged here, in her grandmother's bakery, where the air smelled like cinnamon and safety and home. Where Jake would come for her, because he always came for her.
The FBI car door slammed shut with a finality that made her flinch. Through the window, she watched Sugar & Spice grow smaller—the warm brick walls, the hand-painted sign, the copper wind chimes her mother had hung years ago. Her entire world, slipping away.
Hannah swallowed hard, forcing down her fear. She just had to call Jake. That's all. He'd fix it, because he loved her. Because somehow he was what made the world feel safe for her. Because he would never let this happen to her.