Andrea looks at me like I’m an idiot. “Her family, of course. Mayor O’Neill and his wife.”

“Mayor O’Neill?” Diane pipes up, her brow furrowed. “From Silvercrest?”

Understanding dawns on Andrea’s face as she looks between the two of us, a smug smirk of satisfaction tugging at her lips. “Oh. I see she hasn’t told you. I guess that figures.”

“What has Hannah got to do with Mayor O’Neill?” I snap, my temper rising.

“She’s his daughter.”

There’s silence for a moment.

“Bullshit.” I cross my arms, glaring at Andrea. “Hannah’s parents live in Winterdale. That’s where she’s from. Like I said, you got the wrong person.”

“That’s right,” Diane says, sounding relieved. “Our Hannah’s from Winterdale. And she’s called Hannah Martin, not Hannah O’Neill. There’s been some kind of misunderstanding.”

Andrea clicks her tongue impatiently as she starts tapping away on her phone, pressing the screen until she suddenly thrusts it toward my face. It takes my eyes a second to adjust to the glare, and my mind several seconds longer to understand what I’m seeing.

It’s a picture of Hannah. She looks about thirteen, revealing a row of braces as she forces a smile for the camera. Standing behind her, each with a hand on her shoulder, are a man and a woman. I recognize them instantly. They’ve been the talk of the town for weeks, on the cover of every local newspaper, the top item on every local news station.

The Mayor of Silvercrest and his wife, Michelle.

Hannah’s parents.

Andrea looks thrilled by my shocked reaction, and she hurries toward Diane to show her the photo too, leaving me to organize my whirling thoughts.

“I’m sure I don’t need to remind you of the laundry list of crimes the O’Neills were charged with,” Andrea continues gleefully, finally taking her phone out of Diane’s face. But despite her words, she launches into the list, counting each word with her fingers. “Drug trafficking, of course. Then embezzlement, bribery, corruption, and fraud, just for starters. Tax evasion. Blackmail. Oh, and of course there’s Mayor O’Neill’s sexual misconduct. Seven female members of staff complained. Seven! Then you’ve got election fraud along with several conflicts of interest?—”

“We get the picture,” I snap. “It was all over the news.”

My head is a mess, but I can arrange my thoughts later. Hannah lied to me, but right now, all I care about is defending her against this woman.

“None of that shit has anything to do with Hannah,” I say. “She’s not like that.”

Andrea makes a disbelieving face. “Well, she certainly profited from her parents’ crimes. She grew up wealthy, got the best education money can buy, a hefty trust fund, all paid for from her parents’ illegal activities.” She softens her voice, putting on a tone of sympathy. “Of course, we can’t blame Hannah for the crimes of her parents. But there’s a lot of speculation in Silvercrest about how much she knew. And as it was ultimately the people of the city who were most affected by these crimes, they have a right to know if Hannah O’Neill was involved.”

“She wasn’t.”

Bile is rising in my throat. There’s no damn way Hannah was involved; I don’t doubt that for a moment. But it makes me sick to think of what she must be going through. Her parents are in jail. They’ve messed up her whole life, and now it sounds like the people of Silvercrest suspect her of being involved. It’s no wonder she left and came to Cherry Hollow to lie low, but even in our small town, people are in uproar over the O’Neills. They’re the most hated family in Crave County right now, and I can’t imagine how Hannah must be feeling. I’m desperate to get back to my cabin and see her. I need to make sure she’s okay.

“I can see you’re not going to cooperate,” Andrea says, dropping the nice act and scowling at me. “I’ll be back when Hannah’s here to speak to her myself.”

“You certainly will not!” Diane says. “I’m not going to sit back and let you harass my staff. You’re banned from my bakery.”

Andrea gives her an ugly look. “You’re seriously going to defend her after everything I just told you?”

“All you’ve told us is that Hannah’s parents are shitty people,” I say fiercely. “She hasn’t been convicted of any crime. Sounds like she’s lost everything. The last thing she needs is people like you trying to make her life even harder.”

Andrea opens her mouth to argue, but Diane steps in. “Please leave my bakery before I call the sheriff’s office.”

The journalist sighs bitterly, glaring at us both before sweeping out of the bakery and slamming the door behind her. There’s silence for a few moments as Diane and I look at each other.

“Hannah O’Neill,” she says, shaking her head. “Poor thing. She told me her name was Hannah Martin. I should go see her. Ask how she’s doing.”

“No, I’ll go.”

I’m already striding toward the exit, desperate to see my girl. Diane wishes me luck, but I barely hear her as I shut the door to the bakery and clamber into my truck. I floor it out of town and into the woods, checking my mirrors to make sure Andrea isn’t tailing me. But even if she is, I’ll lose her easily in the forest. The road to my cabin is a maze of dirt tracks and thick pine trees, and a GPS can’t help you out here.

I arrive back at my cabin in record time and my pulse quickens at the sight of Hannah sitting on the front porch, waving at me. She’s wearing one of my flannel shirts like a dress, looking so fucking adorable that for a moment, I can’t do anything but stare at her. Her red hair shines beneath the afternoon sun, and she beams at me as I get out of the truck and walk up the porch steps toward her, my heart in my throat.