And in that second, he saw the truth.
It had wrecked her.
And there wasn't a damn thing he could do to fix it.
Because this wasn't his place anymore.
Because she wouldn't let it be.
Because he was the one who had helped break her.
He'd been a damn fool.
CHAPTER 22
Hannah
Hannah spreadthe files across Sugar & Spice's counter, each page a new wound. The bakery was dark except for one lamp, casting everything in harsh shadows. Outside, the town slept, unaware she was finally learning the truth about her father's victims.
The Wilsons: Their son's college fund, meant for medical school. Gone.
The Mortons: Second mortgage on their grocery store. Foreclosing.
The Patels: Retirement savings. Vanished.
Her fingers trembled as she turned another page. Names and numbers blurred together, but behind each figure was a story. A betrayal. A life destroyed by trust.
The bell above the door chimed softly.
"We're closed," she called without looking up.
"Routine patrol check." Jake's voice was carefully professional. He'd been doing these "checks" more frequently lately.
Hannah didn't tell him to leave. Couldn't find the energy to maintain their careful distance. Not tonight. Not with these files spread before her like accusations.
His footsteps crossed the floor, hesitating just behind her. Close enough that she could feel his warmth, smell engine grease and coffee and him.
"The Harrisons," she whispered, touching one page. "Michael's sister... she was studying medicine. Full scholarship." Her voice caught. "But she couldn't afford housing. Books. The basic stuff my father promised to help with."
Jake's breath hitched. She felt him shift closer, though he didn't touch her.
"And Mrs. Harrison..." Hannah's fingers clenched on the paper. "She's rationing her heart medication. The money she trusted my father to invest... it was for her medical care."
"Hannah—"
"I was a part of it." The words felt torn from her throat. "Smiled at them. Served them pastries while my father—" She broke off, pressing her hand to her mouth.
Jake's hand settled on her shoulder, warm and steady. She should shrug it off. Should maintain their boundaries. Should remember all the reasons she couldn't trust him.
Instead, she leaned back slightly, letting his strength support her.
"I didn't know," she whispered. "But I should have. I was so stupid?—"
"No." His voice was rough. "You trusted your father. That's not stupid."
Hannah laughed bitterly. "Like I trusted you?"
His hand tightened on her shoulder, but he didn't pull away.
