THIEF
Her breath left her in a shudder.
Her fingers tightened around the bouquet as she stood, forcing her legs to move. She took it inside, shutting the door behind her with a quietclickthat sounded far too loud in the empty bakery.
She was used to the town lashing out, angry and hurt.
This?
This felt like someone watching. Someone waiting.
The bakery suddenly felt too big. Too open. The walls, once her sanctuary, felt like they were closing in.
She moved on autopilot, dumping the dead bouquet into the trash, but the scent still lingered, acrid and cloying. She grabbed the mop from the back room, filling a bucket with soapy water. Her hands were steady as she wrung out the mop, as she knelt to scrub the faint dirt smudges where the flowers had been.
Steady.
Until they weren't.
Until she realized she was shaking.
Her breath caught, chest tightening.
She wasn't afraid. She refused to be.
But she was tired.
So goddamn tired.
Of fighting. Of proving herself. Of trying to stand on her own when it felt like the world kept kicking her legs out from under her.
Her fingers fumbled with the mop handle.
Her pulse thundered in her ears.
Before she could think better of it, her phone was in her hands.
She shouldn't. Sheshouldn't.
But her hands moved on their own, pulling up the only number she trusted when everything felt like it was falling apart.
The line rang once.
Twice.
"Hannah?"
Jake's voice, rough with feeling, sent a full-body shudder through her.
She gripped the phone tighter.Say it. Tell him to come.
But she couldn't.
Instead, she swallowed and forced her voice into something even, something controlled. "Did I wake you?"
A rustle on the other end, like he was sitting up. "Doesn't matter. What's wrong?"
She clenched her jaw. "Nothing."
