Chapter 13 Luke
Luke
“—Hart place on Maple,” Sullivan was saying. “Rock through the back door window. Mercer took it.”
Luke’s hand stilled.
“What?” The word came out sharper than he meant it to.
Sullivan glanced over. “Yeah. Early morning call. Vandalism. Didn’t sound like much.”
Didn’t sound like much.
Luke’s pulse kicked hard, immediate and ugly. “When was the call?”
Sullivan shrugged. “About 4 o’clock.”
Something cold slid down his spine. She hadn’t called him.
Of course she hadn’t.
Why would she? He’d made it very clear where he stood. What he was willing to be. What he wasn’t.
But in this moment, he didn’t care.
Something had happened at her address and he hadn’t been the one sent to her.
He hadn’t been the one checking the locks, sweeping the floor, standing between her and whatever asshole thought her home was fair game.
Mercer had.
Her house violated. Her space no longer safe. And Luke was only finding out about it now.
Luke set the mug down harder than necessary, his mind already racing ahead. Broken window could show intent. What if this wasn’t kids screwing around? What if this wasn’t random?
He checked the board. No follow-up assigned. No additional patrols flagged. Just a routine entry, already being forgotten.
He wanted to go to her.
She’d been scared. And he hadn’t been there.
He wasn’t her boyfriend. He wasn’t her lover.
But he was a police officer in this town.
He’d follow up. See if she was okay. That was reasonable. That was professional.
The lie barely held.
He’d been inside her life in ways that mattered, learned her routines, her vulnerabilities.
That kind of closeness didn’t come with an expiration date just because she’d ended it.
He’d shared her bed. He knew the shape of her.
That counted for something. He was allowed—entitled, even—to make sure she was okay.
Someone had thrown a rock through Grace Hart’s window, and every instinct he had screamed that she shouldn’t be alone with that.
By the time he pulled up at the school, the need to see her was impossible to ignore.
Because whatever line she’d drawn between them, whatever rules he’d told himself he needed to follow—
None of it mattered as much as knowing Grace was safe.
This wasn’t about patrols or optics or any of the rules he lived his life by.
This was about Grace.
This was pointless. He’d already heard enough to know she wasn’t hurt. Broken window, no follow-up, routine call. Grace Hart was fine.
The tension didn’t ease.
It didn’t ease until he saw her.
Luke waited a few steps back from her classroom door, hands loose at his sides, posture neutral. Waiting. Reasonable. Like he had every right to be here.
The classroom door opened and there she was.
Standing there in front of him. Breathing. Unhurt.
Relief hit him hard and full-bodied, like he’d been holding his breath without realizing it. His shoulders dropped. His jaw unclenched.
He’d needed to see her. Knowing she was okay hadn’t been enough—not really—not until she was right there in front of him, solid and real.
Their eyes met.
Something flashed across her face—recognition, yes, but not warmth. Not relief.
She crossed her arms.
He wanted to touch her. Just for a second. A hand at her elbow, her shoulder. Proof she was real. That she was still—
“Grace,” he said, softer than he meant to.
She looked at him like she was bracing herself. “Officer Bennett.”
The title felt wrong. The distance she’d put between them felt wrong. He pushed past it. “I heard about your place.”
Her eyes flicked, quick and assessing. “Of course you did.”
“Are you okay?” he asked. The question came out rougher than intended.
“I’m fine,” she said. Calm. Controlled. Closed. “Everything’s handled.”
She didn’t uncross her arms. She didn’t step closer. She didn’t give him anything to work with.
Luke shifted his weight, irritation stirring under the relief. He didn’t like the way she was looking at him—like this was an inconvenience. Like he didn’t belong here.
“I came to check on you,” he said.
“I already spoke with the police,” Grace told him.
He searched her face for something—fear, maybe. Gratitude. Any sign that she needed him.
He found none.
“I was worried,” he said, and immediately hated how close it sounded to an admission.
She studied him for a long moment. A bell rang inside the building, shrill and insistent.
Grace took a step back. “I need to get back to my class.”
“I care what happens to you,” he said, frustration bleeding through. “You don’t just turn that off because things got… awkward.”
Her mouth curved, humorless. “Awkward.”
She was close enough that he could reach out and touch her. His hand twitched at his side, wanting to reach for her, to pull her close, to hold her and make the world feel ordered again.
At the door, Grace paused and looked back at him. “Whatever you think this is,” she said evenly, “it doesn’t give you access to me anymore.”
Then she turned and went inside, the door closing softly but decisively behind her.
Luke stood there on the steps, the noise of the school rushing back in around him.
The relief he’d felt at seeing her evaporated, leaving something raw and unsettled in its place.
She was safe.
And somehow, that wasn’t enough.