The image of Hannah alone in that bakery, targeted by the town's anger, flashed through Jake's mind. "Yes, sir."
"Even if she doesn't want your help?"
Especially then, Jake thought but didn't say. He'd protect her whether she wanted it or not. Whether she ever spoke to him again or not.
"I can handle it," he said instead.
Miller signed the form with a sharp flourish. "Report tomorrow at six. And Cooper?" He fixed Jake with a hard stare. "Don't make me regret this."
Jake took the paperwork, already knowing that staying in Crystal Lake would hurt like hell. He'd have to watch Hannah rebuild her life without him. Watch her hate him. Watch her maybe even move on someday.
But he'd rather have that pain than the uncertainty of not being here to protect her.
Some things were worth the cost.
The firehouse kitchensmelled like burnt coffee and last night's chili. Jake methodically checked equipment, trying to focus on oxygen tanks and pressure gauges instead of the conversation drifting from the break room.
"—can't believe she's still running that bakery like nothing happened."
"My wife says business is way down. Serves her right, after what her father?—"
Jake's hands tightened on the pressure gauge. Keep working. Stay professional. Don't?—
"Yo, Coop. You really think she didn't know?" Roberts, a probationary firefighter, lounged in the doorway. "I mean, he held all those meetings at her bakery. My uncle might lose his hardware store because of Richard Everett, and she was there, slicing him a piece of pie?—"
The gauge creaked in Jake's grip.
"You were undercover, right?" Roberts' voice carried a challenge. "She had to know something."
Jake set down the gauge with deliberate care. "The FBI cleared her of all involvement."
"Yeah, but?—"
"But nothing." Jake's voice was flat. "Hannah Everett ran a legitimate business. Every transaction documented, every penny accounted for. She's innocent."
Roberts straightened. "Awful defensive there, Cooper. That why you quit the FBI? Got too close to?—"
"Problems?" Chief Miller's voice cut through the tension. He stood in the doorway, coffee mug in hand, eyes sharp.
"No, sir." Jake turned back to the equipment check. "Just reviewing proper maintenance procedures with Roberts."
The chief's gaze moved between them. "Roberts, don't you have a hydrant inspection due?"
Roberts pushed off the doorway. "Yes, sir." But he paused next to Jake. "Must have been some fun undercover work," he said quietly. "Gettingcloseto her like that."
Jake's jaw clenched so hard it hurt. He focused on the gauges, on breathing, on not grabbing Roberts by his pristine new uniform and?—
"Cooper." Miller's voice pulled him back. "A word?"
Jake followed the chief to his office, the familiar smell of pipe tobacco and leather replacing burnt coffee. Miller settled behind his desk.
"Want to tell me what that was about?"
"Nothing I can't handle."
Miller studied him. "You know it's going to keep happening. Small town, big scandal. People talk."
"I know." Jake's hands curled at his sides. "It won't affect my work."
