Chapter 33 Hannah
Hannah
Hannah stared at their joined hands, processing everything. "You slept in your truck?" The memory hit her suddenly. "All those nights, parked across the street. You were protecting me."
"I couldn't leave you alone." The words were rough with emotion. "Not with him watching. Not with you hurting."
Hannah's eyes burned. "Even though I pushed you away?"
Jake lifted their joined hands, pressing his lips to her knuckles. "That's what love is, Hannah. It's choosing someone even when they don't choose you back."
The truth of it settled in her chest like warmth. Like certainty. Like coming home.
Because Jake hadn't just saved her from the fire.
He'd been saving her all along.
Even when she hadn't wanted to be saved.
Even when she'd been too hurt to see it.
"I was so afraid to trust again," she whispered. "After my father. After you. The whole town hating me. I thought if I kept my walls up, nothing could hurt me."
"And now?"
Hannah met his eyes. "Now I think some things are worth the risk of being hurt."
Jake's breath caught. Hope and fear and desperate love warred in his expression. "Hannah—"
"I'm still angry," she said softly. "Still scared. Still not sure how to trust anything anymore."
"I know." His voice was gentle. Understanding.
"But I want to try." The words felt like freedom. Like finally letting go of a weight she'd been carrying for too long. "With you. If you'll be patient with me."
Jake's smile was like sunrise breaking through clouds. "I've got nothing but time, sweetheart." He brought their joined hands to his heart, letting her feel its steady beat. "And I'm not going anywhere."
Hannah closed her eyes, letting herself feel it all—the warmth of his hand around hers, the certainty in his voice, the way her heart recognized his touch like coming home.
Because some things were stronger than fear.
Some loves were worth the risk.
Hannah sat on the edge of the hospital bed, fully dressed and more than ready to leave. Her throat still felt scratchy from the smoke, but otherwise, she felt fine. Almost normal, except for the way everything in her world had shifted on its axis.
"Blood pressure's good," the nurse said, removing the cuff. "Doctor's willing to discharge you today, but only if you have someone to stay with. No being alone for at least forty-eight hours."
Hannah nodded, not trusting her voice. Because two days ago, that requirement would have devastated her. Would have highlighted just how alone she was in this town that had once been full of friends and family.
Sarah would have been her first call once. Her assistant-turned-friend who'd spent countless mornings laughing with her in the bakery kitchen. But Sarah had walked away like everyone else when Hannah's father was arrested.
The Wilsons would have taken her in without hesitation. Mrs. Wilson had been like a second mother after Hannah's own passed. But that was before—before her father stole their son's college fund, before the truth came out, before everything changed.
And her father...
Hannah's throat tightened. All she had left of her biological family was a man sitting in prison, proud of destroying people's lives. A stranger wearing her father's face.
She should feel scared. Should feel lost. Should be worried about her smoke-damaged apartment above a half-burned bakery.
But she didn't.
Because every time fear tried to creep in, she remembered Jake crashing through those flames.
Remembered his arms around her, his voice rough with desperation as he'd carried her to safety.
Remembered that moment before consciousness slipped away—that perfect certainty that everything would be okay because Jake was there.
Jake, who'd spent months watching over her even when she'd pushed him away.
Jake, who'd run into fire for her without hesitation.
Jake, who'd loved her, even when she'd tried so hard to hate him.
"Ms. Everett?" The nurse's voice pulled her back. "Do you have someone who can stay with you?"
Hannah's lips curved into a small smile. "Yes." The word came out steady, certain. "I have someone."
Because she did. Finally, completely, without doubt.
She had Jake.
The memory of flames still lingered at the edges of her mind, but it wasn't the fire she remembered most clearly. It was that moment of absolute trust—knowing Jake had come for her, knowing she was safe, knowing that some loves were strong enough to walk through fire.
Sometimes it took almost losing everything to understand what really mattered.
Sometimes it took walking through fire to find your way home.
Sometimes it took breaking completely to finally let yourself be put back together.
And Hannah?
Hannah was ready to be whole again.
Jake arrived like a force of nature, armed with discharge papers and determination. He'd clearly gone home to shower and change, but the bandages on his hands were still visible—evidence of what he'd risked to save her.
"The apartment isn't ready yet," he said without preamble, already scanning the paperwork. "Smoke damage. My crew's handling it, but it'll take a few days."
Hannah watched him from her perch on the hospital bed, something warm unfurling in her chest. He was in full protective mode—focused, efficient, taking charge of everything so she wouldn't have to.
Any other time, she would have bristled at someone trying to manage her life. Would have insisted on handling things herself. Would have maintained that fierce independence that had gotten her through the past few months.
But not today.
Today, she wanted to let him take care of her.
"You'll stay with me," Jake continued, signing another form. His tone left no room for argument. "Bedroom's already set up, but if you're not comfortable with that, I can—"
"Jake." She waited until he looked at her. "I want to stay with you."
The pen stilled in his hand. Something flickered across his face—hope warring with uncertainty. "Yeah?"
Hannah nodded. "Yeah."
He exhaled slowly, like he'd been holding his breath. Then he was moving again, checking boxes, initialing pages. "We'll need to stop by the pharmacy for your prescriptions. And I got you some clothes since yours still smell like smoke. Sarah dropped off a few things too—"
"Sarah?" Hannah's voice caught.
Jake's expression softened. "She's been worried. Called the station three times checking on you."
"Oh." The word came out small.
"Hey." Jake set down the papers, crossing to stand in front of her. His bandaged hand came up to cup her face, thumb brushing her cheek. "You're not alone anymore. Okay?"
Hannah leaned into his touch, letting herself feel it—the gentle strength of his fingers, the warmth of his palm, the way her body still knew him like coming home.
"I know," she whispered.
Because she did know. Finally, completely.
Jake's eyes searched her face. "You're sure about staying with me? Because I can arrange—"
"Jake?"
"Yeah?"
"Take me home."
His breath caught. Then a smile broke across his face—that real, rare smile that had always been just for her. "Yes, ma'am."
He went back to the paperwork, but his movements were lighter now. More certain. Hannah watched him command the room—directing nurses, confirming instructions, making sure everything was perfect.
And for the first time in months, she let herself just... be.
No walls.
No resistance.
No need to prove she could handle everything alone.
Because she didn't want to be Strong, Independent Hannah right now.
She just wanted to be Jake's.
When the wheelchair arrived (hospital policy, non-negotiable), Jake's hands were gentle as he helped her into it. He fussed with the blanket over her legs, checked her water bottle, made sure she had everything she needed.
Hannah caught his hand, stilling his movements. "I'm okay."
Jake's fingers tangled with hers. "I know." But his other hand smoothed the blanket one more time, and Hannah had to bite back a smile.
Because this protective, slightly overprotective Jake? This man who would move heaven and earth to keep her safe?
This was exactly what she wanted.
Jake's apartment felt different now.
The last time Hannah had been here, she'd found his FBI badge. Had watched her world shatter on these hardwood floors. Had felt betrayal burn through her veins as everything she believed in crumbled.
Now...
Now Jake carried her across the threshold like something precious, his arms steady and sure around her despite her protests that she could walk.
"Humor me," he murmured against her hair. "Just for today."
And Hannah, who had never been good at letting anyone take care of her, found herself melting into his embrace. Because this was Jake. Her Jake. The man who had walked through fire to save her.
The apartment had changed. The whiskey stain was gone from the wall.
Her photo was no longer on the fridge. Instead it was in a simple frame on the mantle.
Other photos joined it—action shots from the fire station, his crew laughing together.
Real memories, not the carefully curated lies of his undercover life.
But some things were the same.
Her favorite coffee mug still sat in his dish drain.
The blanket she'd always stolen was still draped over his couch.
The whole space still smelled like him—coffee and sawdust and home.
Jake carried her to the couch, setting her down with infinite care. But when he started to pull away, Hannah caught his shirt.
"Stay."
His eyes darkened. For a moment, neither of them moved. Then, slowly, he sat beside her. Hannah immediately curled into him, tucking herself against his side like she used to. Jake's arm came around her automatically, pulling her closer.
"I cleaned out the bedroom," he said after a moment, his voice rough. "Changed the sheets, put fresh towels in the bathroom. But if you're not comfortable—"
"Jake?"
Jake's hand came up to cup her face, his thumb brushing her cheek. The bandages were rough against her skin, but his touch was infinitely gentle.
"I love you," he said simply. Like a fact. Like a promise. Like the truest thing he'd ever known.
Hannah's heart squeezed. Because this—this was real. This was Jake with all his walls down, all his masks gone, loving her completely.
And Hannah?
Hannah was finally ready to let herself be loved.