December's chill had settled deep into the bones of that Monday morning, making every breath sting and every step a test of endurance. As I approached the towering gray walls of Sallow Penitentiary, my feet ached in flip-flops—a foolish choice I'd ignored until the cold bit through my resolve.

Inside, the air was stale, thick with a mix of disinfectant and despair. The guard at the entrance eyed me with suspicion as I announced myself, "Maya," hoping my voice didn't betray the nervous flutter in my chest.

Through the thick glass, Jake Ford sat on the other side of the stainless steel table, handcuffed, his fingers twitching restlessly. His orange jumpsuit clung to his muscular frame, marred by a dark stain I dared not identify but feared was blood rather than rust or dirt. It was a cruel reminder of the violence that shadowed him.

"Hey, Jacob," I said, louder than intended, drawing a sharp glance from the nearby guard. Jake’s piercing hazel eyes met mine, tired but alert, a silent acknowledgment passing between us.

"To what do I owe this grand honor, Maya?" His voice rasped, unused and rough, like gravel underfoot.

I swallowed the lump in my throat. "I brought you something," I said, pushing a small, nondescript package across the table, "soap. Fifty bars."

His brows shot up, incredulous. "Fifty bars of soap? Are you serious?"

"Yeah. Thought it'd be nice to have extras in case you drop one or two. You know, not like the cheap stuff either." I smiled, though it felt fragile.

He studied me for a long moment, skepticism giving way to something like appreciation. "You actually went out and bought that much soap for me? Weird, but... not unwelcome."

My eyes drifted to the cold metal cuffs locking his wrists. "Doesn't that hurt?" I asked quietly.

He shrugged. "After a while, you stop noticing. Pain's just part of the package when you’re someone like me."

I blinked, caught off guard by his candor. "I’m sorry."

"No need," he murmured. "I messed up. I’m paying the price."

The silence that followed was thick, stretching between us like barbed wire.

Trying to shift the mood, I asked, "Does Baron visit you?"

Jake’s posture remained loose, but his eyes darkened. "Not since the trial."

"That's rough. He's your brother."

He only shrugged again. "Better off without me, probably. Last I heard, he’d graduated business school and landed some big job in France."

Baron Ford, the one bright spot in a family marred by hardship, had slipped away from the stagnant confines of Sallow County, a place that swallowed dreams whole. The distance between the brothers felt like an ocean I couldn’t cross.

My fingers twisted at the fabric of my skirt as I gathered resolve. "I didn’t just come for the soap," I confessed, voice low.

Jake’s gaze bore into me, sharp and searching. "Go on."

"I work at Rose Haven now," I said. "It's different, but I love it. The old folks... even those with Alzheimer’s, they have moments of sweetness. Mrs. Geldhof, for instance, screams when she’s hungry, but she’s got her charm." I attempted a small smile, then faltered. "Your mother... she passed away."

At the mention, a flicker of raw emotion flashed in Jake’s eyes before he masked it with his usual guarded expression. "How?"

"It was her time," I said gently, feeding him the usual comforting lie we give grieving families. Still, it stung bitterly. Sharon Ford had been young, and losing her felt like losing my last anchor.

"We watched Modern Family together," I added, "her favorite was Phil. Then she went to sleep and didn’t wake up."

>I fought back the urge to let tears fall, biting my lip fiercely.

"Does Baron know?"

"We tried calling him several times. His number’s disconnected, or maybe he’s avoiding us."

>

Then Jake leaned in slightly, voice low and urgent. "You know Ghost?"

I nodded slowly. Marlon "Ghost" Phillips was a name that carried weight in Sallow County—President of the Phantoms MC, a man as feared as he was respected.

"Good," Jake said. "He’ll know how to reach Baron. Tell him I sent you."

My pulse quickened, thoughts flickering to Sebastian’s disapproval, the tension in my life ratcheting higher. Still, something about Jake's request demanded trust.

"Okay," I agreed, swallowing the lump of anxiety. This was the longest we’d ever talked—stripped of the usual sarcasm and distance. Even if our past was tangled and messy, it felt like a fragile bridge was forming.

As I rose to leave, Jake’s voice stopped me. "Thanks for the soap, Maya. And for this talk."

I offered a tentative smile, the cold prison air no longer feeling quite so harsh. "Take care of yourself, Jake."

Walking away from the steel bars, I felt the weight of the day settle over me—the cold outside, the heavy truths shared inside, and the uncertain path ahead, tangled with danger and hope alike.