“The only one getting hurt today is you,” Jack said, his voice deadly calm.
Nathaniel recovered, wiping blood from his lip, his eyes wild with rage. “You really think you can stop me?” he growled.
He charged at Jack, and the café exploded into chaos. They grappled, chairs skidding and tables tipping. Cora stood frozen, her heart hammering in her chest. She wanted to scream, to make them stop, but the words stuck in her throat as she watched Jack fight. She knew he wasn’t just fighting for her. He was fighting for everything Nathaniel had taken from them both. There was a raw, controlled fury in every punch Jack threw, like he’d been waiting for this moment for years.
A strange flash of recognition hit her as she watched the men. A moment of understanding. This must’ve been how Lolly felt when Lincoln fought Tobias all those years ago during the Honeysuckle Festival. The quiet strength, thefierce protectiveness, the way Jack moved with purpose. Every punch was bigger than merely this fight. She could almost picture Lolly standing there, her heart pounding, caught between fear and awe as Lincoln fought the exact same way for her. For them.
“Nathaniel, stop!” she finally screamed, but her voice was drowned out by the sound of fists colliding and tables crashing.
They tumbled out the door and onto the sidewalk, their fight spilling into the middle of the crowd. People gasped, stepping back with their corn dogs clutched to their chests as the two men clashed in front of them. It was like something out of a movie—two men brawling in the middle of a town celebration, the festival sounds providing an almost surreal soundtrack to the violence.
Jack had Nathaniel pinned, his fist raised for the final blow. But before he could strike, Nathaniel twisted free, staggering to his feet, his lip dripping blood.
“You’ll never win, Harlow,” Nathaniel spat, wiping his mouth, his voice thick with contempt. “You think you can stop me? You think people like me lose to people like you? You’ll never beat me. This is how the world works. I win. You lose. Game over.”
But Nathaniel didn’t get another word out. Jack’s fist connected one last time, and this time, Nathaniel didn’t get up. He crumpled to the ground, groaning, a defeated heap on the sidewalk.
For a second, everything was still. Jack stood over Nathaniel, chest heaving, his knuckles raw and bloody. His eyes met Cora’s, and she saw the fire still smoldering there, but there was something else too. Something softer. Something that said this wasn’t just about the fight. It was about protecting her. About protecting them.
Before either of them could speak, the sound of sirens cut through the air.
“Freeze! Hands where I can see them!”
Cora’s heart lurched as she whipped around to see two police officers rushing toward Jack, guns drawn.
“No!” she shouted, rushing forward. “You don’t understand. He was protecting me.”
But it was too late. The officers were already on Jack, cuffing him, pushing him toward the squad car.
His head hung low, and the fire in his eyes had dimmed to something closer to resignation. “It’s okay, Cora.” His voice was gruff. “This is how it always ends for guys like me.”
“Jack!” she called out, but her voice broke. Her chest tightened as they shoved him into the back of the waiting police car.
Nathaniel staggered to his feet, clutching his side and wiping more blood from his mouth. His smug expression was back, and a fresh wave of rage washed over Cora.
“Well, that was quite the spectacle,” he sneered, brushing off his jacket. “Now, where were we? Oh, right. The Salty Spoon is mine, and there’s nothing you can do to stop it.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
Cora stood in the middle of The Spoon surrounded by overturned chairs, broken glass, and a table knocked on its side. She couldn’t think about leaving it like this. She couldn’t walk out on Lolly’s dream and let her beloved café sit in ruins. Her hands moved automatically, straightening chairs, picking up the broken pieces of everything she’d tried to hold on to.
She wiped down the counter, swept up the napkins, and tried to focus on something, anything, other than the hollow ache in her chest. It wasn’t about losing the café. It was about losing the last real connection she had to Lolly, to everything she’d built.
She’d lost it.
She’d lost it all.
And she hadn’t even really tried to stop it.
She’d come back to Sunrise with a plan to sell the café, wipe her hands clean, and move on. She hadn’t thought about what it meant to everyone else. Not to the town. Not to Lolly’s friends. Not even to Jack.
Her stomach twisted. She hadn’t just dismissed the café. She’d dismissedhim. She’d barged in, taken one look around,and made up her mind. And now, after everything, it was too late. Not only was she letting Lolly’s dream go, she’d taken Jack’s dream away too. All he wanted was a second chance and a way to honor his friendship with her grandmother. Instead, he’d been hit with a “For Sale” sign and a spreadsheet that had no Plan B.
She tried to swallow the lump in her throat, but it stayed lodged there, heavy and unmoving. She stumbled toward the counter, running her fingers over the worn wood where generations of elbows had leaned. She could still see the coffee stains from late-night conversations, feel the grooves left by years of comfort and joy. This counter had held so many stories, so much history. And now it was all slipping away.
“Well, Lolly,” she whispered to the empty room, “I really screwed this one up, didn’t I?”
The silence that followed felt like the final nail in the coffin.
