Page 53 of Fierce Hope
After Sarah left, Mrs. Peterson gathered her belongings. “Don’t stay too late, dears. Everything looks better after a good meal and some rest.”
When they were alone again, Jade carefully replaced the files and made copies of the relevant documents. “We should visit this storage facility tomorrow.”
“First thing,” Deke agreed. “But right now, food. You made me a promise.”
She hadn’t, technically, but her stomach chose that moment to rumble in solidarity with his earlier complaint. “Fair enough. I’ve got what I need anyway.”
As they walked to Deke’s truck, Jade found herself reluctant to end the evening. Working with him had begun to feel natural—the way they moved around each other, anticipated questions, filled in gaps. In another life, they might have made excellent partners in every sense of the word.
“What kind of food are you in the mood for?” he asked, breaking into her thoughts.
The question caught her off guard. “Oh, I assumed we’d just head home.”
“After I promised you dinner?” He looked offended at the suggestion. “I’m a man of my word, Villanueva.”
She hesitated, knowing she should refuse. This wasn’t a date. It couldn’t be a date. But the thought of returning to her empty condo held little appeal compared to another hour in his company.
“Pizza?” she suggested. “There’s a place on Grant that’s open late.”
“Sold.” He smiled, and she felt that familiar flutter she’d been trying to ignore for days. “We can compare notes on our board meeting suspects while we eat.”
“Very romantic,” she said without thinking, then immediately regretted it.
His eyes caught hers, something warm and unspoken passing between them. “I’ve had worse date ideas.”
The word “date” hung in the air, neither of them acknowledging or denying it.
Tomorrow, they would visit the storage facility and perhaps uncover what Thurston was so desperate to hide. Tomorrow, they would be investigator and protected witness again.
But tonight? Tonight they could just be Jade and Deke, sharing pizza slices and theories under the forgiving light of a neighborhood restaurant.
Until she told him the truth about her past. Because she had to, before his feelings grew any stronger. And her hopes ballooned out of proportion.
30
She’d do it now,Jade decided.
She’d tell Deke everything about her past at dinner.
They slid into his truck without much conversation. The hush between them thickened, laced with the echoes of the day’s discoveries about the church’s suspicious invoice and Thurston’s odd reaction. Deke navigated out onto the quiet roads of Hope Landing, the headlights cutting through the darkness. Jade stared at her hands in her lap, heart drumming a frantic beat.
At a red light, Deke glanced over. “You sure you’re okay with getting pizza this late? We could pick up something quick and just head back.”
Jade swallowed hard. She couldn’t meet his eyes. “Pizza’s fine,” she said softly. “It’ll give us a chance to talk.” Her voice wobbled, but she masked it by reaching for the seatbelt. She felt more than saw Deke’s sharp gaze lingering on her, as though he sensed exactly how precarious she felt.
A few minutes later, they pulled into the parking lot of a small pizzeria wedged between a closed bookstore and an auto repair shop. The neon “Open Late” sign hummed faintly. It was nearly ten-thirty, and only two other cars sat in the lot.
Jade stepped out into the chilly air. Snow flurries whirled around the fluorescent glow of the overhead lamp. She tucked her hands into her jacket pockets. Her breath plumed in short bursts, but her chest felt hollow.This is it,she reminded herself.Tell him everything. Face the consequences.
Deke joined her on the sidewalk, offering a small, quiet smile. He reached over as if to rest a hand at the small of her back, then hesitated, as if thinking better of it, and dropped his arm. The gesture felt more painful than if he had touched her—like he’d thought better of something she desperately wanted. She forced a tight grin and pushed open the glass door.
Inside, fluorescent bulbs buzzed against stained ceiling tiles. A lone teenage employee behind the counter perked up, greeting them with practiced cheer. Only one booth near the window was occupied: a middle-aged man flipping through a newspaper, a half-eaten slice in front of him. Otherwise, it was deserted.
Deke chose a booth in the corner, away from the windows. She shrugged off her coat, sliding onto the vinyl seat. The server—skinny, bleary-eyed—ambled over, handing them menus and asking if they wanted anything to drink.
“Just water,” Jade said, her throat too tight for soda. Deke nodded in agreement.
Once the server disappeared, she fixed her gaze on the half-cracked salt shaker in front of her. She could feel Deke studying her, his intensity a palpable force.
