Page 55 of Fierce Hope
When they finished, Jade insisted on paying. Deke gave her a tired look but didn’t argue beyond a token protest. The server took her money and mumbled a quiet “Thank you,” leaving them to gather their coats.
They exited into the cold night air. The lot was even emptier than before, just Deke’s truck and a single sedan near the far corner. Snow drifted lazily around them, reflecting the amber glow of the streetlamp.
He walked her to the passenger side of the truck without speaking, ensuring she wouldn’t slip on the icy patches. She turned to him, hugging her coat around her. “Thanks,” she managed, her voice raw. “For not … running off the moment I told you.”
Deke offered a hesitant smile. “I told you, I’m not judging. You’re a good person, Jade, no matter what you did before.” He paused, glancing at the empty street. “I just can’t make any promises. My focus is on DJ, and this job. I—I have to keep things straight in my head.”
“I get it,” she whispered, dipping her head so he wouldn’t see the moisture gathering in her eyes.
He opened the passenger door for her. She stepped up into the seat, biting her lip to keep from asking him if he might ever feel differently. The moment felt too raw. Instead, she stared at her hands until he shut the door and circled around to the driver’s side.
They drove back to her condo in a silence that hummed with unspoken words. Jade leaned her head against the window, watching the snow swirl through the glow of the headlights. She should have felt lighter, having confessed. But each mile that passed reminded her they’d soon share her living space again—yet nothing could be the same.
When they pulled up to her place, it was nearly midnight. The entire complex was dark, save for a few porch lights. Deke turned off the engine, and they sat there for a heartbeat in the warmth of the truck’s heater. Jade cradled her coat in her lap, mind racing.
“We should head in,” he said softly. She nodded. They climbed out, breath billowing around them as they trudged to the front door. Jade fumbled with her keys, grateful Deke’s steady presence kept her from dropping them in the snow.
Inside, the condo was dim and quiet, the faint hum of the heater greeting them. Jade flicked on a small lamp by the couch. Deke slid his bag off his shoulder, setting it near the armchair. The tension was palpable—like a bubble enveloping them, neither sure how to break it.
She mustered a soft, “Good night” after she hung her coat in the closet. Her voice sounded foreign to her ears, scratchy and worn.
Deke nodded, gazing at her with an unreadable expression. “Night, Jade.” He hesitated, as if he wanted to say something more—some reassurance or comfort. Then he lowered his gaze. “Sleep well.”
She swallowed and offered him a tight nod, her chest constricting. Without another word, she walked down the short hallway to her bedroom, shutting the door behind her. The latch click reverberated in her ears like a final chord in a sorrowful melody.
Alone in the dark, she pressed her back against the door, exhaling unsteadily. Her confession was out. Deke might not hate her, but his gentle allusion to DJ’s needs and his complicated life echoed like an unspoken boundary. She had no one to blame but herself for feeling so gutted—she’d expected exactly this outcome.
Tears pricked her eyes, but she blinked them away. There was still a case to solve, a storage facility to investigate, a homicide overshadowing their every move. Professionally, they’d keep going. He’d keep sleeping on her couch. They’d remain in each other’s orbits. Yet emotionally, a wall separated them now, built of her confession and his paternal obligations.At least it’s out in the open,she told herself, heart pounding.At least I don’t have to lie anymore.
She inhaled a shaky breath and switched on her bedside lamp. Through the thin walls, she could hear Deke settling in,probably unrolling his sleeping bag or checking his phone for updates from Knight Tactical. For a moment, she imagined stepping out, confronting him again—asking if maybe he could overlook everything. But the image of his solemn face, quietly referencing DJ, quenched that tiny spark.
So she changed into pajamas, each motion mechanical. She flicked off the light and climbed into bed, staring at the ceiling. The echo of the pizza parlor lingered—the smell of oregano, the hush between them, the harsh overhead lights. She’d told him everything. The relief of honesty warred with the misery of knowing it might have cost her whatever fragile hope she’d allowed herself.
Eventually, her eyelids grew heavy, though her heart refused to slow. Tomorrow, they’d continue investigating. Tomorrow, they’d face the storage facility, the murder investigation, and the endless questions swirling around Gillian Wycoff’s secrets. Tomorrow, they’d work side by side again.
But the bond she’d cherished felt irrevocably broken.
31
Deke rolled his shoulders,trying to loosen the knot of tension that had taken up residence between his shoulder blades since Jade’s confession. The Knight Tactical conference room hummed with activity. Kenji and Zara hunched over laptops while Jade worked quietly in the corner catching up on her actual work. Through the floor, he heard the muffled sounds of weights dropping and Axel’s distinctive laugh from the gym downstairs.
He slipped his phone into his pocket, recalling the text DJ had sent him earlier—complaints about Deke missing some school event. The guilt gnawed at him, and the fresh swirl of concerns about Jade's past only added to the mental clutter. Even from a distance, he could sense the subtle tightness in her posture. She wouldn't look at him for more than a moment or two. He understood why. Last night's conversation, that raw confession over pizza, had changed everything.
It wasn't that he blamed her—how could he? She'd been a child manipulated by her father, forced into a life she hadn't chosen. But as a father himself, the revelation had struck at his core responsibilities. DJ was fifteen, impressionable and already testing boundaries. The teen's recent brushes with trouble atschool—skipping class, hanging with kids Deke didn't trust—had him on high alert about influences in his son's life. Deke had worked so hard to create stability after losing DJ's mother, to build a home centered on faith and integrity.
What would it mean to bring someone into their lives who'd once participated in defrauding innocent people? Even if Jade had turned her life around—and clearly she had—what if her past came to light in their church community? What example would that set for DJ? The questions had circled in his mind all night as he'd lain awake on Jade's couch, his protective instincts as a father warring with the undeniable feelings he had for her. He believed in redemption with his whole heart—it was central to his faith—but believing it abstractly and navigating it in real life, with his son involved, were entirely different matters.
“Got something,” Kenji announced, drawing Deke’s focus back to the matter at hand. Kenji peered at his screen, pushing a lock of dark hair off his forehead. “Thurston’s credit card records for the past six months.”
Deke stepped behind him, taking the chance to banish his personal turmoil. Work was straightforward. “Anything interesting?”
Kenji scrolled. “Not really. Guy’s a home improvement junkie. Has lots of charges at a hardware store, some groceries, nothing that looks like hush money or payments to a thug.” He tapped a few keys. “No suspicious cash withdrawals, either.”
Zara approached with her tablet under one arm. “Yeah. We’ve got nothing to tie him to Delgado. And I don’t see a motive.”
Deke crossed his arms, trying to ignore the tension coiling in his neck again. At least Thurston looked to be in the clear—one less suspect. But that meant they were still short on leads. “If it’s not Thurston,” he said slowly, “who’s next on the list?”
He let his gaze flick briefly to Jade. She’d closed her laptop, half-listening. Her hair fell across her cheek, and for a moment he remembered how she’d looked last night—head bowed, voice shaking as she revealed that info about her childhood. A pang of protectiveness mingled with the echo of heartbreak. She must have felt his stare because she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and glanced up, meeting his eyes with a guarded expression. Then she lowered her gaze.
