The holding room's walls seemed to press closer, the fluorescent lights suddenly too bright, too harsh.
Your father isn't the only one we've been watching.
Agent Martinez's words echoed in her head, carrying a weight Hannah wasn't ready to understand.
She stared at Jake's contact photo, at his laughing eyes and easy smile. At the man who'd fixed her leaky sink and stolen her heart and made her feel safer than she'd ever felt in her life.
The man who wasn't answering his phone.
Something was wrong.
The realization settled like ice in her veins, but she pushed it away. She couldn't think about that. Not now. Not yet.
Instead, she pressed call again.
Ring.
Ring.
Ring.
"Hey, you've reached Jake Cooper..."
The cell wasn't meantfor someone like her.
Hannah wrapped the thin blanket tighter around her shoulders, trying to find warmth in the scratchy fabric. The metal bench was cold through her jeans—the same jeans she'd put on this morning, when her biggest worry had been whether to ask Jake to move in.
God, had that really been just this morning?
The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, a constant drone that made her head throb. They never turned them off. Just like they never completely quieted—there was always something. Footsteps in the corridor. Distant voices. The occasional slam of a door that made her flinch.
She pressed the blanket against her chest, squeezing her eyes shut. If she concentrated hard enough, she could almost pretend it was Jake's arms around her. Jake's warmth. Jake's steady heartbeat under her ear, the way it always was when she couldn't sleep.
But Jake wasn't here.
Jake hadn't answered his phone.
Jake hadn't come.
The thought rose like bile in her throat, but she swallowed it back. There had to be an explanation. Maybe they weren't letting him see her. Maybe he was working with a lawyer right now, figuring out how to get her out of here. Maybe?—
A door slammed somewhere down the hall. Hannah jerked, her heart racing.
She wasn't supposed to be here. She was supposed to be home, in her apartment above Sugar & Spice. The same apartment where Jake had first kissed her, pressing her against the kitchen counter after fixing her garbage disposal. Where she'd fallen asleep in his arms countless times, feeling safe and cherished and whole.
Your father isn't the only one we've been watching.
Martinez's words slithered through her mind again, poisonous and sharp. Hannah pressed her forehead to her knees, trying to block out the implications. Trying not to think about how long Jake had been in Crystal Lake. How perfectly he'd fit into her life. How he'd known exactly how to make her fall in love with him.
No.
She couldn't think about that. Couldn't let that doubt take root. Because if she started questioning Jake, she'd have to question everything. Every kiss. Every touch. Every time he'd looked at her like she was precious.
Exhaustion pulled at her edges, but sleep felt impossible. Not here. Not alone. Not with her mind spinning in circles of betrayal and doubt.
But eventually, her body gave in.
She dreamed of Sugar & Spice. Of flour dusting her hands and sunlight streaming through the windows. Of Jake's arms sliding around her waist as she pulled trays from the oven, his lips brushing her neck, his voice warm against her skin: "Morning, sweetheart."
