Chapter Twenty-Four
Cora wiped her mouth and tossed the napkin on the counter, finishing off the last bite of her now-cold grilled pimento cheese sandwich.
The sounds of the festival outside had grown louder, and the mental image of Aggie parading through town as a sequined shrimp was too tempting to resist. She couldn’t let the day end without at least one laugh.
She was going to miss this place when she left.
Where else do they celebrate by dressing up as bedazzled seafood?
Back to New York. That was the plan. But what exactly was she going back to? Her old job was gone. The apartment she once adored now felt cold and cramped in her memory. And the life she’d been chasing, the fast-paced, polished version of success, suddenly seemed like it belonged to someone else.
She reached for her purse, deciding to catch the last of the parade while she still could. A little joy before the goodbye.
But before she could grab it, the door swung open.
And there he was.
Nathaniel Worthington.
Alone.
He stood in the doorway, his usual self-satisfied grin creeping across his face. “Well, if it isn’t the last supper,” he said, eyeing the sandwich remains on the counter. “Enjoying your final moments as The Salty Spoon’s owner, Cora?”
She didn’t answer. His mere presence was enough to sour her stomach. He sauntered farther into the café as if it already belonged to him. In his mind, it probably did.
“This is it, you know,” he continued, his voice casual, almost amused. “The Salty Spoon is mine at midnight. You’ve had your fun, but it’s over.”
Cora crossed her arms, determined to hold steady. “What do you want, Nathaniel? Just spit it out.”
He stepped closer, a smirk twisting his lips. “I’m feeling generous today. Thought I’d give you one last chance to save this place. All it takes is a little . . . cooperation.” He moved closer, invading her personal space with that oily air of superiority.
She understood all too well what he meant. “You’re disgusting,” she said, her voice cold.
He tilted his head, looking amused. “Disgusting? Or just practical?” His gaze swept over her, lingering a beat too long, sending a shiver of revulsion down her spine. “One night, Cora, and I’m willing to discuss an extension of the loan. It’s a fair deal, considering your options.”
“No.” Her voice was firm, though bile rose in her throat. “I’d rather lose everything than let you anywhere near me.”
Nathaniel’s expression darkened, his smirk falling away. “I wouldn’t be so quick to throw away your only option.” He stepped forward, crowding her against the counter.
Panic shot through her as he grabbed her wrists, his grip tight and unyielding.
“Nathaniel, stop!” She shoved him, but he didn’t budge.
His breath was hot and sour against her cheek as he leaned in, his voice dripping with menace. “You really think you can say no?” he sneered. “You think you’re in any position to turn me down?”
Fear surged through her, but so did anger. She wasn’t going down like this. With her hands trapped, she did the only thing she could. She brought her knee up fast and hard.
“You little—” Nathaniel cursed under his breath, but his hold on her only tightened, pinning her wrists to the counter.
Before she could scream again, there was a sudden blur of motion, and then Nathaniel’s weight was gone. She stumbled forward, gasping for air, and looked up to see Jack, his face a mask of fury, standing between her and Nathaniel.
His fists were clenched, his jaw tight. There was no hesitation in his voice when he growled, “Take your hands off her.”
Nathaniel staggered back, straightening his jacket. “This doesn’t concern you, Harlow,” he spat. “Walk away before you get hurt.”
But Jack didn’t walk away. He didn’t even blink. His fist came down with a force that shook the room, connecting with Nathaniel’s jaw with a sickening crack. Nathaniel reeled backward, crashing into a table.
“The only one getting hurt today is you,” Jack said, his voice deadly calm.
Nathaniel recovered, wiping blood from his lip, his eyes wild with rage. “You really think you can stop me?” he growled.
He charged at Jack, and the café exploded into chaos.
They grappled, chairs skidding and tables tipping.
Cora stood frozen, her heart hammering in her chest. She wanted to scream, to make them stop, but the words stuck in her throat as she watched Jack fight.
She knew he wasn’t just fighting for her.
He was fighting for everything Nathaniel had taken from them both.
There was a raw, controlled fury in every punch Jack threw, like he’d been waiting for this moment for years.
A strange flash of recognition hit her as she watched the men.
A moment of understanding. This must’ve been how Lolly felt when Lincoln fought Tobias all those years ago during the Honeysuckle Festival.
The quiet strength, the fierce protectiveness, the way Jack moved with purpose.
Every punch was bigger than merely this fight.
She could almost picture Lolly standing there, her heart pounding, caught between fear and awe as Lincoln fought the exact same way for her. For them.
“Nathaniel, stop!” she finally screamed, but her voice was drowned out by the sound of fists colliding and tables crashing.
They tumbled out the door and onto the sidewalk, their fight spilling into the middle of the crowd.
People gasped, stepping back with their corn dogs clutched to their chests as the two men clashed in front of them.
It was like something out of a movie—two men brawling in the middle of a town celebration, the festival sounds providing an almost surreal soundtrack to the violence.
Jack had Nathaniel pinned, his fist raised for the final blow. But before he could strike, Nathaniel twisted free, staggering to his feet, his lip dripping blood.
“You’ll never win, Harlow,” Nathaniel spat, wiping his mouth, his voice thick with contempt. “You think you can stop me? You think people like me lose to people like you? You’ll never beat me. This is how the world works. I win. You lose. Game over.”
But Nathaniel didn’t get another word out. Jack’s fist connected one last time, and this time, Nathaniel didn’t get up. He crumpled to the ground, groaning, a defeated heap on the sidewalk.
For a second, everything was still. Jack stood over Nathaniel, chest heaving, his knuckles raw and bloody.
His eyes met Cora’s, and she saw the fire still smoldering there, but there was something else too.
Something softer. Something that said this wasn’t just about the fight.
It was about protecting her. About protecting them.
Before either of them could speak, the sound of sirens cut through the air.
“Freeze! Hands where I can see them!”
Cora’s heart lurched as she whipped around to see two police officers rushing toward Jack, guns drawn.
“No!” she shouted, rushing forward. “You don’t understand. He was protecting me.”
But it was too late. The officers were already on Jack, cuffing him, pushing him toward the squad car.
His head hung low, and the fire in his eyes had dimmed to something closer to resignation. “It’s okay, Cora.” His voice was gruff. “This is how it always ends for guys like me.”
“Jack!” she called out, but her voice broke. Her chest tightened as they shoved him into the back of the waiting police car.
Nathaniel staggered to his feet, clutching his side and wiping more blood from his mouth. His smug expression was back, and a fresh wave of rage washed over Cora.
“Well, that was quite the spectacle,” he sneered, brushing off his jacket. “Now, where were we? Oh, right. The Salty Spoon is mine, and there’s nothing you can do to stop it.”