Chapter 22 - Luke #2
"Grace Hart," he continued, voice steadier now, "is kind. And smart. And braver than I've ever been. She built a life in this town despite everyone treating her like she's toxic.”
He met his father's gaze. Then his mother's.
"And I had her," he said. "I had her and I lost her. Because I was a coward."
His parents were looking at him like he was crazy.
“I have to go," Luke said.
He didn't wait for a response.
He walked out of his parents' house, out into the cool night air, and stood on the porch for a long moment, breathing hard.
His hands were shaking.
But something in his chest felt lighter.
He didn't know if Grace would forgive him.
He didn't know if he could fix what he'd broken.
But he knew that he had to try.
Because a life where he got to keep his reputation but lost her?
What would be the point of that?
Luke turned onto his street out of habit, but then kept going, jaw tight, hands steady on the wheel like he could hold himself together by force alone.
He drove to Maple Street instead.
Not to knock on her door—he had no right to that anymore. Just to... see. To know she was safe.
Even if she'd never know he'd checked.
He parked half a block down, engine idling, and stared at her little house. The porch light was on. Warm light glowed behind the curtains in her living room.
Luke's grip tightened on the steering wheel.
He was here to make sure she was okay. It was his job, wasn't it? To protect people in this town?
But the bitter taste in his mouth now had nothing to do with duty.
Someone else was in there with her. Someone she'd chosen to let in through the front door, in full view of the neighbors, because she wasn't ashamed—
The front door opened.
Luke went still.
A figure stepped out onto the porch, silhouetted against the light. Male. Tall. Grace appeared in the doorway behind him, arms wrapped around herself against the evening chill.
The man said something that made Grace laugh, and then headed down the steps.
As he passed under the streetlight, Luke's mouth dropped.
Eli Hart.
Luke sat frozen in his cruiser, shame burning through him like acid.
Criminal houseguest.
He'd thought—Christ, what had he thought? That Grace had shacked up with someone that fast?
Grace had let her brother stay with her. Had waved him goodbye on the porch where anyone could see. Because she wasn't ashamed of him. Because she didn't hide the people she cared about.
Unlike Luke.
He’d parked around the corner from this very house. He'd slipped in through the back door like a thief. He'd made her keep the lights low so the neighbors wouldn't talk.
He'd been so sure he was protecting something—his career, his family's name, his future. He'd told himself the secrecy was practical, that Grace understood, that it was just how things had to be.
Luke leaned forward, pressing his forehead against the steering wheel.
He'd failed her.
He'd made a choice. Again and again, every time he'd parked around the corner, every time he'd turned away from her on Main Street, every time he'd touched her in the dark and then pretended not to know her in the light.
He'd chosen his comfort over her dignity.
And she'd been brave enough to walk away.
Luke lifted his head, staring at her house. The porch light was still on, but Grace had gone back inside.
God, he wanted to go to her. He wanted to walk up those front steps and get on his knees and beg her to forgive him.
But he wasn’t going to do that in the middle of the night.
That truth sat heavy and immovable in his chest.
He had no claim on her nights or her days. No privilege to show up and demand space in Grace Hart's life after everything he'd done—or failed to do.
She had offered him more. And he'd rejected her.
The thought was physically painful.
If someone else saw her, saw the way she lit up a room without trying, the way she carried herself, the way she was brave even when it cost her—
If another man saw that?
Luke swallowed.
That man wouldn't hide her.
He wouldn't park down the street. He wouldn't ignore her in public. He wouldn't weigh her worth against gossip and bloodlines and what people might say.
He'd stand beside her with pride.
And Luke wouldn't be able to blame anyone but himself when Grace chose him.
The jealousy rose anyway. Hot and ugly.
Luke felt it burn.
He wasn't going to give her up without making a case for himself.
If there was a fight, it wouldn't be fists or threats or posturing.
It would be honesty.
It would be daylight.
Luke leaned forward, staring out at the empty road.
He had no right to her.
But he would fight for her anyway.
He would spend as long as it took to earn her faith. To make his choice unmistakable. To prove—to Grace, and to the rest of this town—that he wasn't ashamed anymore.
He would stand in the open and say—
I see you. I choose you. And I'm not afraid anymore.
He'd seen for himself that the danger wasn't lurking.
But still every part of him wanted to stay, to keep watch over her all night. She was behind locked doors, safe now. And more importantly, she didn't want him there.
Luke reached for the radio.
"Dispatch," he said.
"Go ahead, Bennett."
"If anything comes in for Maple Street," he said, "I want to be notified. Wake me up if you have to. Any time. I don't care if it's three in the morning."
"Copy that," dispatch said. "We'll flag it."
"Thanks," Luke replied.
And only then was he able to drive away.