Chapter 16
Hannah
Hannah's heels clicked against the marble floors of Crystal Lake's town hall. The sound echoed in the empty corridor, each step feeling like a countdown. Her grandmother's business license, framed and worn with age, was clutched in her hands.
The council chamber doors loomed ahead. Through the frosted glass, she could see shapes moving—dozens of them. The entire town had turned out to watch her fight for her bakery's survival.
She recognized every face as she walked in. Mrs. Peterson, who'd taught her Sunday school. Tommy Mercer's mother, who'd helped her practice for her driver's test. Bill Wilson, who'd danced with her at her high school graduation party.
Now they all found somewhere else to look.
Sarah, her assistant, was tucked in the back row. When Hannah caught her eye, Sarah quickly looked down at her hands. The rejection felt like a physical blow—this woman who'd been at her house for Christmas dinner last year couldn't even meet her gaze.
"Miss Everett." Council President Matthews barely looked up. "Please take a seat."
The wooden chair felt like a witness stand. Around her, whispers rippled through the crowd. She caught fragments:
"...her father's daughter..."
"...knew all along..."
"...can't trust any of them..."
"We're here to review the business license for Sugar & Spice Bakery." Matthews' voice carried that false neutrality she'd heard in the FBI interrogation room. "Given recent events, concerns have been raised about the establishment's connection to ongoing criminal investigations."
Hannah's fingers crumpled the edges of her folder. "Sugar & Spice's books are clean. Every transaction—"
"We'll hear from the concerned parties first." Matthews nodded toward the crowd. "Mr. Harrison?"
Michael stood. In the harsh fluorescent lights, the shadows under his eyes looked deeper, his suit hanging looser than ever. But his voice was steady as he approached the podium.
"My family has served this town for three generations." He didn't look at Hannah. "Our pharmacy helped people. We gave credit when times were hard. Extended payment plans for those who needed it. We were part of this community."
Were. Past tense. Hannah's stomach twisted.
"Then Richard Everett came to us with an investment opportunity. A chance to expand, to help more people." Michael's knuckles went white on the podium. "He knew about my mother's medical bills. Knew we were stretched thin. He said he could help."
The room was silent now. Waiting.
"We trusted him. I trusted him." Finally, Michael turned to face her. "I sat in your bakery every week, Hannah. Watched you take notes in those meetings. Watched you smile and pour coffee while your father stripped us of everything."
"I didn't—" Hannah's voice cracked. "I never knew—"
"My mother can't afford her heart medication anymore." Michael's voice rose. "My sister's scholarship? Worthless without money for books and housing. The pharmacy? Everything my grandfather built, gone. Because we trusted your father. Trusted your family."
The truth of it hit her like physical blows. Every accusation landed precisely because she remembered those meetings. Remembered Michael's smile as he'd talked about expanding the pharmacy. Remembered her father's hand on his shoulder, promising everything would work out.
"Your father stole everything from us." Michael's voice shook. "You sat there and watched him do it. You don't deserve that bakery. You don't deserve anything."
Hannah fought to breathe through the weight crushing her chest. Because she could see it now—all the signs she'd missed. The way her father had always handled the paperwork. The meetings she'd sat in on without really understanding. The trust she'd taken for granted.
"The bakery is clean." Her voice sounded far away. "I can show you—"
"Like your father showed us the pharmacy's books were clean?" Michael laughed, harsh and broken. "Like he showed us the investment accounts were safe? Your father's a thief, Hannah. And you're either complicit or stupid. I'm not sure which is worse."
The council chamber blurred. Hannah blinked hard, refusing to let them see her cry.
"I have evidence." She forced her hands steady as she opened her folder. "Bank statements, receipts—"
"We'll review the documentation." Matthews cut her off. "The council will convene privately to discuss—"
"She doesn't deserve a chance to explain!" Michael's shout made Hannah flinch. "My mother doesn't get a chance to appeal her medical bills. My sister doesn't get a chance to finish college. Why should she get to keep anything?"
The room erupted in voices. Agreements. Accusations. Years of trust shattering like her bakery window.
"Wait."
The single word cut through the chaos. Hannah's heart stopped as Jake stood up from the back of the room. He wasn't in his FBI suit now—just jeans and a worn flannel shirt, looking more like her Jake than Agent Cooper.
"I want to speak."
Matthews frowned. "Agent Cooper—"
"Not Agent. Not anymore." Jake's voice carried clearly through the suddenly silent room.
"I spent seven months investigating Richard Everett's financial dealings.
I saw every transaction, every account, every paper trail.
" His eyes found Hannah's for a moment before moving to the council.
"Sugar & Spice was clean. Completely clean.
Hannah Everett ran that business exactly as her grandmother did—honest books, legitimate accounts, nothing hidden. "
"She had to know—" Michael started.
"No." Jake cut him off. "She didn't. Richard Everett deliberately kept his daughter's business separate from his illegal activities. He used her legitimate business as cover, yes. But Hannah wasn't part of it. She didn't know."
The certainty in his voice made Hannah's throat tight. After everything he'd done, how dare he stand here defending her? How dare he make her feel grateful for his support?
"The FBI has confirmed this," Jake continued. "Hannah Everett is innocent. Punishing her for her father's crimes won't bring justice to anyone. It will just destroy one more innocent person's life."
Hannah stared at her hands, blinking hard against the tears threatening to fall. Because she could feel it—the way the room's energy shifted. The way some of the anger bled away. The way her friends finally, finally looked at her again.
All because of Jake.
Jake, who'd betrayed her.
Jake, who'd destroyed her trust.
Jake, who was still trying to protect her even now.
She didn't know whether to thank him or scream.
Her father had done this.
Had hurt these people.
Had destroyed their lives.
And she had smiled and poured coffee and never questioned a thing.
The council's decision to "review the matter further" barely registered. She walked out of town hall in a daze, her heels clicking against marble that felt less solid with every step.
Everything she'd believed about her father, about her family, about herself—it was all built on shifting sand.
And she was finally starting to sink.
"Hannah, wait."
Jake's voice stopped her at the bottom of the town hall steps. She kept walking, her grandmother's business license still clutched to her chest like armor.
"Hannah." Closer now. Those familiar footsteps she used to listen for every morning.
"Don't." She spun to face him, the word coming out sharper than she'd intended. He stood three steps above her, hands shoved in his pockets, looking so much like her Jake that it made her chest ache.
But he wasn't her Jake. Had never been her Jake.
"I didn't ask for your help in there." The words tasted like ash.
"I know." He took a step down. "But it was the truth. You needed someone to tell them the truth."
Hannah laughed, the sound raw and painful. "The truth? From you?" Another step down. She held her ground. "That's funny, coming from the man who lied to me for seven months."
"Not about this." His voice dropped lower, just for her. The way he used to whisper against her skin in the early morning light. "Never about this. You're innocent, Hannah. You deserve to keep the bakery."
"Don't." She pressed the business license harder against her chest, like it could somehow protect her heart. "Don't act like you care what I deserve."
"I've always cared." He reached for her, that automatic gesture she'd seen a thousand times.
Hannah jerked back, but her heel caught on the last step. She stumbled.
Jake's hands shot out, steadying her before she could fall. The touch burned through her clothes—those familiar calluses, that gentle strength she'd trusted so completely.
"Let go." Her voice shook.
He did, immediately, but didn't step back. "Hannah—"
"No." She straightened her spine, forced herself to meet his eyes. "You don't get to do this. You don't get to defend me in there and then act like... like..."
"Like what?" Too close. He was too close, smelling of coffee and sawdust and everything she'd lost.
"Like you're still him." The words escaped before she could stop them. "Like you're still my Jake."
Something raw flashed across his face. "I am—"
"A liar." She cut him off. "A federal agent who used me to get to my father. Who sat in my kitchen and smiled and held my hand and never once—" Her voice cracked. "Never once told me the truth."
"Hannah." Her name was barely a breath.
"Just do your job and leave." She took a deliberate step back. "You're good at that."
"I quit the FBI."
The words hit her like a slap. She stared at him, searching for the lie. But his eyes were steady, certain.
"Why?"
His lips parted, and she found herself swaying forward, remembering how those lips felt against hers, how safe she'd felt in his arms, how—
"Because I couldn't do it anymore." His voice was rough. "Couldn't stand in that office and listen to them talk about you like you were just collateral damage. Like hurting you was acceptable as long as we got the bad guy."
He took a step closer. "Because every time I close my eyes, I imagine your face when they took you from the bakery. When you called me for help and I—" His voice broke. "I couldn't even answer the phone."
Hannah's chest felt too tight. "Jake—"
"Because loving you is the only real thing I've done in years."
The words hung between them, heavy with truth. Hannah swayed forward before she could stop herself, remembering how his lips felt against hers, how safe she'd felt in his arms, how completely she'd trusted him.
Jake's hand came up to cup her cheek, calluses catching on her skin the way they always had. Her eyes fluttered closed as he leaned in, his breath warm against her lips.
For one heartbeat, she let herself remember. Let herself feel. Let herself want.
Then reality crashed back in.
Hannah jerked away, pressing her fingers to her lips. Jake's hand was still outstretched, reaching for her.
"Don't." She took a deliberate step back. "Just... Don't."
She turned and walked away, her legs barely steady. Everything in her screamed to look back, to run to him, to let him explain more.
But she kept walking.
Because even if loving her was real, the rest of it had been lies.
And she couldn't trust her heart to a man who'd broken it so completely. She could feel Jake's eyes on her back, feel the weight of everything unsaid pressing against her skin.
He'd quit the FBI. He'd defended her. He'd reached for her like nothing had changed.
But everything had changed.
And no amount of truth now could undo seven months of lies.