Page 30 of Fierce Hope (Hope Landing: New Recruits #3)

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.

“You look like you’re carrying a storm cloud,” he said quietly, leaning forward. “More than the usual church drama.”

She exhaled, forcing a small laugh that held no warmth. “I guess I am.”

He waited, silent and patient. She was both grateful and unnerved by his calm acceptance.

The server returned, depositing two tall glasses of ice water and a small plastic pitcher. “You folks want a pie or slices?”

“A small pepperoni, maybe,” Deke said, not taking his eyes off Jade. “We’ll share.”

Jade nodded mechanically. When the server left, she felt the weight of his attention again. She needed to begin, but her stomach clutched at the mere idea.

He leaned in, voice low. “Is something bothering you about Thurston? Or is this … personal?”

“It’s personal,” she managed, her words coming out staccato. She forced herself to meet his gaze. The kindness there made her want to run. “Deke, there’s something you should know about me. And I need to say it now—before we get home, before … before we go on like this.”

The overhead lights buzzed softly. She noticed a smudge of flour on the nearby booth’s tabletop. Anything to distract from the hammering pulse in her ears. But there was no escape. She locked her gaze on him again, heart pounding.

“I wasn’t born Jade Villanueva,” she began. The sentence sounded stilted in her own ears, but she pressed on. “That name … it’s my mother’s maiden name. My real name is Jade Marlowe.”

Deke didn’t visibly react at first, only tilting his head a fraction.

She swallowed. “When I told you that Sebastian and my father ran cons together, I didn’t tell you the whole story.

My father is Ren Marlowe. Maybe that means nothing to you, but if Zara or Kenji ever looked him up in the system, they’d find pages of records.

Fraud, burglary, identity theft … He doesn’t just dapple in crime.

He’s a career con artist. The best of the best. And so was I. ”

Her breath caught, but she forced herself to continue.

“I was just a child, but he used me—my father, I mean,” Jade said, voice trembling.

“He taught me to smile and talk to people, to distract them while his partners pickpocketed or forged documents. As I got older, I wasn’t just a naive accessory.

I knew exactly what we were doing, and I kept going.

I was good at it.” Her throat tightened at the memory of forging checks, the adrenaline rush of duping unsuspecting marks.

“I didn’t leave that life until I was twenty.

I found the Lord, and I couldn’t con people anymore, so I just …

ran off. Took my mom’s last name, prayed to vanish.

Ended up here, building a normal life. But before that, I was a con, too. That’s the part I need you to know.”

Deke’s stare was intense, but not cold. If anything, he seemed pained.

He started to speak, but she lifted a hand, needing to finish.

“I had to tell you. Especially since we’ve been getting …

closer.” Heat rushed to her cheeks at the words.

“I couldn’t let you think I’m someone I’m not—someone squeaky clean or … or even deserving of your trust.”

A flicker of sympathy crossed his features. “Jade, you were a kid. You can’t blame yourself?—”

She cut him off softly. “Of course, I’m to blame.

I was old enough to know right from wrong, and yet I kept going.

I’ve never told anyone here in Hope Landing.

You’re the first.” Her voice broke on the last word, but she quickly swallowed, determined not to cry.

“I’m sorry if this changes things. It probably should. ”

Before Deke could answer, the server arrived at the table, sliding a small pepperoni pizza toward them with a forced grin. “Anything else I can get you folks?”

They both shook their heads, murmuring a polite thanks. The server disappeared, leaving them alone with the bubbling pizza.

Deke cleared his throat, picking up a slice as if to occupy his hands. “Jade,” he began quietly, “I appreciate you telling me. That couldn’t have been easy. You’ve been carrying this burden on your own for years?”

She nodded, eyes on the grease pooling atop the pepperoni.

“I built my entire adult life on secrecy, I guess. I mean, I left at twenty. I changed my name, changed everything, but in the back of my mind, I always worried someone would find out.” She laughed bitterly.

“Felt like I was conning the entire town by pretending to be an ordinary accountant.”

“You’re not a con,” Deke said firmly. He set down the slice, reaching across to brush her fingertips. “And you’re not that same teenager. You’ve done nothing but help people since you got here.”

She inhaled shakily, wanting to believe him but too scarred by her father’s manipulations. “Maybe. But that doesn’t change the fact that I once hurt people, made them believe lies so we could steal from them.”

Deke exhaled, pressing his lips together. “I’m not saying that doesn’t matter. But from what I see, you were in a toxic environment you were born into. You escaped. You stopped what you were doing. That’s huge.”

Jade felt a stinging behind her eyelids. She blinked it back, refusing to cry. There was more to say, but her throat felt raw. She forced a nod, letting a charged silence settle between them.

Minutes passed. Deke eventually lifted his slice of pizza again, taking a small bite.

Jade tried to follow suit, grabbing a slice for herself.

But her appetite had vanished. She picked at the pepperoni, swallowing a lump in her throat as she recalled the nights she’d watch her father count stolen money, praising her for “being so sweet and adorable” to distract a mark.

She looked up, searching Deke’s expression.

“I know … you have a lot going on already,” she ventured, voice quiet.

“With DJ, with your job. I don’t want to assume there’s …

anything more happening between us. But if there was a possibility, I figured you deserved to know the truth first.” Her cheeks burned at the admission, but she forced herself to keep eye contact.

Deke’s eyes flickered with an emotion she couldn’t name—empathy, sorrow, maybe regret. “I do appreciate it,” he said softly. “But yeah, my life … it’s complicated. DJ’s struggling, and I can’t neglect him. Especially not now.”

She swallowed hard, certain that was code for “I can’t be in a relationship right now.” And maybe that was for the best. Still, Jade’s heart twisted painfully. She managed a small, resigned nod. “Right. That’s what I figured.”

Another silence, deeper and more final. She picked at the pizza crust, tears threatening to breach her defenses.

She’d expected to feel relief that he wasn’t angry, but the disappointment nearly suffocated her.

It was exactly what she predicted—he might forgive her in theory, but practically speaking, there was no future for them.

Jade forced herself to nibble halfheartedly at the pizza, all conversation drained from the space.

The neon sign outside cast a flickering light through the window, dancing on the tabletop between them.

Jade tried to remind herself she’d done the right thing.

Keeping secrets from a man like Deke was impossible if she wanted honesty. But the price felt crushing.