The FBI would still come. Her father would still be arrested.
He pressed his forehead against the steering wheel, remembering how she'd felt in his arms this morning—soft and warm and trusting. How she'd kissed him goodbye, tasting likecoffee and vanilla. Was that the last time he would ever kiss her? He'd stupidly assumed he would see her again before…
God, he was going to be sick.
His phone buzzed again. Martinez.
Stay away from the bakery. That's an order.
Jake's fingers tightened around the phone until the case creaked. He should never have let it get this far. Should have kept his distance, stayed professional. Should have remembered that Hannah Everett was just another name in a case file.
But he hadn't.
Instead, he'd fallen for her smile. Her kindness. The way she looked when she was tasting her recipes, that crinkle in her forehead as she concentrated on the flavors. The way she made everyone who walked into Sugar & Spice feel like family.
The way she'd made him feel like he was exactly where he was always meant to be.
His thumb swept across the screen, pulling up a new message.
Hannah…
The cursor blinked accusingly.
What would he even say?Hey sweetheart, your father's a criminal and I'm the FBI agent who's going to destroy your family tomorrow. But I love you, so maybe we can work this out?
"Fuck." He deleted the message, letting his head fall back against the seat.
She'd hate him either way. At least this way, she'd be free to hate him without the FBI breathing down her neck for obstruction of justice.
His phone buzzed one more time. Hannah again.
Everything okay? Miss you...
Jake's chest felt like it was being crushed in a vice. He forced himself to type:
Can't make it tonight. Early start tomorrow.
Technically this wasn't even a lie. He just wished it was.
Her response came immediately:Rain check? Love you.
"I love you too," he whispered to his empty truck. "I'm sorry."
But sorry wouldn't fix this. Nothing would.
Seven AM tomorrow, he would stand by and watch as federal agents stormed Richard Everett's office. Would probably have to help arrest the man Hannah adored—the father who came by every Sunday to go over the books with her, who'd raised her to believe in trust and kindness and small-town values.
And Hannah would never forgive him.
She shouldn't forgive him.
Jake started his truck, his decision made for him by protocol and duty and the weight of a badge that had never felt heavier. He couldn't warn her. Couldn't save her. Couldn't even hold her one last time.
All he could do was drive home and try not to think about how, in less than twelve hours, he was going to lose everything that mattered.
Everything that had ever felt real.
CHAPTER 5
