I shake myself back into the conversation.
“Why did you come see Papa that day?” I ask.
He shifts in the booth, not restless—reflective. A man replaying a memory etched too deep to fade.
“Your father was working a case,” he says after a pause. “I’d arrested the man he was prosecuting. I came to talk.”
My stomach tightens. “To help him?”
He shakes his head. “I was going to send one of the boys. But half the department was out sick. And truth? I just needed an excuse to get out of that office.”
He holds my gaze, voice dropping. “Something told me I had to be the one to knock on that door.”
My heartbeat flickers.
“Didn’t expect to find you in the yard,” he adds, softer now. A slow smile cuts across his face—nothing sweet, only hunger and memory sharpened into edge. “Didn’t expect you to look at me like that, either.”
Heat flares in my cheeks. “Like what?”
“Like you already knew I wasn’t there for him.” He leans in, eyes burning. “Like some reckless, aching part of you was already waiting for me to find you.”
I look away, pulse drumming in my ears. Maybe I was.
The bell above the diner door jingles. I feel it before I see it—the shift in Jacob’s posture, the way the silence cuts too clean, too fast.His body stays still, but everything tightens: his jaw locks, nostrils flaring, and the glass in his hand suddenly looks like a weapon.
I turn slowly.
Benny.
My throat goes dry. The memory of his hands, the gentleness in his eyes, flashes through me with cruel speed—like a vision of what I could have had if my world hadn’t twisted.
I snatch my hand back from Jacob, the sting of cold water, the punishment he carved into me simply because I let another man hold me for one song. Because I dared to talk to Benny.
Jacob’s eyes catch the movement, narrow, and fury sparks there—silent, lethal.
Benny strides in, sleeves rolled up, hands shoved deep in his pockets like it’s the only thing stopping him from throwing a punch. Adelaide trails close behind, Constance at her side.
Why are they here? And why are they with him?
Their faces falter when they see me—relief, guilt, something that twists into urgency.
Jacob lifts two fingers toward the waitress without looking. “Three menus.”
The waitress freezes, catches the tension, and nods quickly. “I’ll get them seated.”
They slide into the booth opposite ours, close enough that Jacob can speak without raising his voice. Only then does he turn his head—slow, menacing—eyes locking on Benny.
The room shrinks and the atmosphere changes.
“You lose somethin’, boy?” Jacob asks calmly.
Benny doesn’t blink. “No. I saw your truck outside. Figured it was time I had words with you.”
Jacob tilts his head, eyes narrowing, a slow grin tugging at his mouth. “That right? What kind of words you think you got for me?”
Benny leans forward, forearms planted on the table like he’s holding himself back from lunging across it. His voice is steady, but there’s steel under it.
“About how you treat her,” he says flatly. “About how this whole goddamn town pretends not to see it. I saw what you did to her atthe bar, sheriff. That’s not something you brush off, not something I’m gonna keep quiet about.” He shakes his head, jaw tight. “Jesus… she’s terrified of you. And you know it.”
