Chapter 15 Jake
Jake
Jake's hands gripped the steering wheel, knuckles white against the leather. Hannah sat silent beside him, staring out the window as countryside blurred past. She looked small in the passenger seat, her usual fierce energy dimmed to something fragile and raw.
Your lies were always the nicest ones.
The words echoed in his head, cutting deeper with each mile. Because she was wrong. God, she was so wrong. But how could he make her believe that when he'd destroyed her ability to trust?
"He admitted it." Hannah's voice was hollow, breaking the silence. "Everything. The Harrisons, the investments, all of it." She let out a shaky breath. "He was proud of it."
Jake's fingers tightened on the wheel. He remembered interrogating Richard Everett—remembered that same smug smile, that same casual dismissal of lives he'd destroyed.
"You know what's funny?" Hannah's laugh held no humor. "I actually went there believing him. Thinking he was wrongly accused, like I was." She turned to look at him, her eyes too bright. "Guess we both learned about liars today."
"Hannah—"
"Don't." She wrapped her arms around herself. "Please don't say anything nice. I can't... I can't hear your voice being gentle right now."
The request hit like a physical blow. Jake swallowed hard, forcing his eyes back to the road.
"He used me," Hannah whispered. "Used my bakery. Used everything I believed in." Her voice cracked. "Just like you did."
Jake's chest felt like it was being crushed. Because she was right about her father. But about him? About his feelings?
She had it so wrong.
But he'd lost the right to correct her. Lost the right to tell her that every kiss, every touch, every whispered promise had been real. That loving her had been the only honest thing in his whole damn investigation.
Instead, he drove in silence, watching Harrison's car in his mirror, feeling Hannah slip further away with every mile.
When they reached Sugar & Spice, Jake pulled smoothly into her usual parking spot—like he'd done it a hundred times before, like he still belonged in the rhythms of her life. Hannah's fingers curled in her lap, but she said nothing.
The second the engine shut off, she was out of the car before he could speak. But she paused at the door, her back to him.
Jake stepped out, locking the vehicle before moving to her side.
Silently, he held out her keys. She reached for them, but as their fingers brushed, he didn't let go right away.
His grip lingered—just slightly too long, just enough for the warmth of his palm to seep into hers, just enough for her pulse to stutter in betrayal.
Her throat tightened. She pulled the keys from his grasp.
"Thank you," she said quietly. "For the ride. For..." She gestured vaguely, encompassing everything—the hug, the comfort, the love she thought was lies.
"Hannah." Her name felt like glass in his throat.
She shook her head. "Goodbye, Jake."
The door closed with quiet finality.
Jake stood outside long after she disappeared inside, watching the shadows move behind Hannah's windows.
He couldn't protect her from her father's truth.
Couldn't protect her from the town's judgment.
Couldn't even protect her from the pain he'd caused.
But he'd die before he let anything else hurt her. His eyes shot a glance toward the Harrison's Pharmacy, the prominent "CLOSED" sign.
Even if she never believed in him again.
Even if she spent the rest of her life thinking his love was a lie.
Even if it broke him to watch her hurt.
He'd keep her safe.
It was all he had left to give her.
The Everett house loomed against the darkening sky, windows blank and accusing. Yellow crime scene tape still fluttered from the porch rails—tattered now, faded by sun and rain, but still marking this place as a scene of destruction.
Jake stood on the sidewalk, hands shoved in his pockets, remembering another evening. Richard Everett at the head of the table, telling stories about Hannah's childhood. Hannah herself, glowing in candlelight, her fingers laced through Jake's under the tablecloth. The perfect family dinner.
The perfect lie.
His stomach rolled as memory overlapped with reality. That same dining room was visible through the window now—empty, dark, everything of value seized as evidence.
"More wine, Jake?" Richard's voice echoed in his head. "Hannah tells me you're in contracting. Always good to have a man who works with his hands."
Jake had smiled, played his part. All while knowing exactly what Richard Everett was. All while gathering evidence, building a case, preparing to destroy everything Hannah loved.
The first time he'd sat across from Richard in interrogation, he'd seen it immediately—that calculating light behind the friendly smile. The predator wearing a businessman's mask.
"You understand how this works," Richard had said, casual as discussing the weather. "Everyone wants something. The Harrisons wanted to save their pharmacy. The Wilsons wanted their son in college. I just... helped them believe."
Jake's hands curled into fists, remembering Hannah's face in the prison parking lot. Her broken whisper about lies and trust and growing up.
Because Richard hadn't just stolen money.
He'd stolen faith.
He'd stolen innocence.
He'd stolen his daughter's ability to believe in anything.
And Jake had helped him do it.
Bile rose in his throat. He stumbled to the bushes, retching until his chest burned. Until the taste in his mouth matched the bitterness in his soul.
When he straightened, the house seemed to mock him. Every window, every shadow, every memory of Hannah's laugh echoing through these rooms—all of it tainted now.
"I love that you feel safe with Jake," Richard had told Hannah over dessert one night. "A father worries, you know. But I can see how well he protects you."
His body remembered other nights too. Hannah leading him upstairs to her cozy little apartment, moonlight painting her skin silver as she'd pulled him into her bedroom. The way she'd trusted him completely, giving herself to him with an openness that had undone him.
The nausea hit harder.
Because he hadn't been lying about who he was inside—every touch, every kiss, every whisper had been real. But he'd come to her bed wearing a false life. He'd let her fall into bed with a man who didn't technically exist.
Had he taken advantage? Had he crossed an unforgivable line?
He remembered her soft gasps, the way she'd melted into him, how she'd looked at him like he hung the moon. He'd been so sure then that he was one of the good guys. That because his feelings were real, it made everything okay.
But had he given enough thought to the ethics? The morality of seducing a woman under false pretenses?
Was it false though? The way his heart had raced when she touched him, the way his body had known hers like coming home, the absolute certainty that this—this—was the truest thing he'd ever lived...
Jake pressed his forehead against the cool brick of the house, remembering Hannah's body wrapped around his, her lips breathing his name—his real name—against his skin. He'd never felt more honest than in those moments. Never felt more like himself than when he was loving her.
But that didn't make it right. That didn't make it ethical. That didn't make it forgivable.
"You were supposed to protect her," Jake whispered to the empty house. His voice cracked. "That was your job. Your whole damn job."
But he hadn't protected her.
He'd been the weapon that destroyed her world.
He'd been the lie that broke her heart.
He'd been everything Richard Everett was—another man who'd used her trust like a tool.
Jake turned away, unable to look at the house anymore. But he couldn't escape the memories. Couldn't escape the weight of what he'd done.
Because in trying to bring down a monster, he'd become one.
In trying to expose a liar, he'd told the cruelest lies.
In trying to protect Hannah, he'd broken her completely.
And no amount of love could fix that.
No truth could undo that damage.
No redemption could make it right.
He'd chosen duty over her heart.
He was a damnable fool.