Chapter 27
Grace
Grace pushed through the school's front doors. The autumn sun hit her face, and she paused on the top step to adjust her bag on her shoulder.
Luke leaned against his cruiser parked directly in front of the school. Arms crossed. Waiting.
Mrs. Ellery emerged behind Grace, keys jingling. "Oh," she said, following Grace's gaze. "Is that Officer Bennett again?"
Grace's throat felt tight. "Yes."
"That's nice of him," Mrs. Ellery said warmly. "Keeping an eye on you after last night."
Grace nodded, not trusting her voice.
Mrs. Ellery squeezed her arm gently. "You have a good evening, dear. Call if you need anything."
"Thank you," Grace managed.
She descended the steps slowly, deliberately, keeping her expression neutral even as her pulse kicked up.
Luke straightened when he saw her. His eyes tracked her movement, like she was the only thing that mattered in his field of vision.
"Hey," he said when she reached him.
"Hey."
He opened the passenger door without ceremony. "How was your day?"
The question was so ordinary, so domestic, that it made something twist painfully in her chest.
“Good,” Grace said, climbing in. "Long."
Luke closed the door and rounded the vehicle. When he slid into the driver's seat, the space suddenly felt smaller. More intimate.
He smelled like the soap from his bathroom. It was a scent that Grace had smelled on herself all day.
Grace stared straight ahead as he started the engine.
They pulled away from the curb, and Grace watched the school disappear in the side mirror.
Luke Bennett picking up Grace Hart.
In broad daylight.
"You don't have to do this every day," Grace said finally.
"Yes, I do."
She glanced at him. His jaw was set, hands steady on the wheel, eyes on the road.
Grace looked back out the window. They passed Sugar & Spice, the hardware store, the little park where she took her students for nature walks.
Normal. Everything looked so normal.
They were quiet for long enough that when Luke spoke, it startled her.
His voice was steady, and she could hear the determination. "I should've done this from the start. But I'm doing it now. Even if it is too late.” He slanted a look her way before his attention was back on the road. “I hope it’s not.”
Her chest felt too full—anger and confusion and something dangerously close to hope all tangled together in a knot she couldn't unpick.
"Why now?" she asked.
Luke was silent for a long moment.
"Because I finally figured out what I should have been protecting," he said. “And it wasn’t my own fucking reputation.”
Grace pressed her lips together and studied his face. He wasn't looking at her—his eyes were fixed straight on the road, but something in his expression had shifted. His throat worked as he swallowed. He looked raw in a way she'd never seen from him before.
The car turned onto his street. The houses here were nicer than hers—bigger yards, newer construction.
Luke pulled into his driveway and cut the engine.
For a moment, neither of them moved.
"I have to go back to the station," Luke said finally. "I've got a few hours left of my shift. But I need to get you settled first."
Grace nodded and climbed out.
Luke unlocked the front door and held it open for her. She stepped inside, the scent of his house—wood and coffee and that faint clean smell—washing over her.
It still felt strange. Being here. In his space.
"Come on," Luke said, gesturing for her to follow.
He moved through the house methodically, showing her the security system.
"Main panel's here," he said, pointing to the keypad by the front door, giving her the code. Grace committed it to memory.
"If anything happens while I'm gone," Luke said, turning to face her, "you call 911 first. Then you call me."
Grace nodded.
"I mean it, Grace." His voice dropped, serious and a little rough. "Promise me."
"I promise," she said.
Something in his expression eased slightly.
Luke reached into his pocket and pulled out a set of keys. "This is yours. Front door, back door.”
His palm was warm as he took her hand. He placed the keys in the center of her palm, the metal cool against her skin, and then carefully folded her fingers closed over them. His hand lingered, wrapped around her fist, holding it there for a beat longer than necessary.
Only a week ago, she would've given anything for this. For a key to his house. For the implication that she was welcome here, that she belonged.
He hesitated, like he wanted to say something else. Then seemed to think better of it.
"I'll be back in a couple of hours,” he said instead. "Lock up behind me. Alarm code, deadbolt, everything."
"I will."
Only then did he let go of her hand. He was halfway out the door when he paused, looking back at her one more time.
"You're safe here," he said quietly. "I promise."
Grace believed him.
She believed that Luke Bennett would keep her physically safe. Would stand between her and danger without hesitation. Would check every lock and drive her to work every single day if that's what it took.
But safe wasn't just about locked doors and alarm systems.
And the part of her that he'd already hurt once—the soft, vulnerable part that had wanted daylight and honesty and a place in his life—
That part wasn't safe at all.
Grace sank down onto the edge of the couch.
He said he wanted to protect her.
But Luke had said a lot of things before.
She pressed her fingers to her temples.
Don’t be stupid.
Don’t rewrite history just because you want him.
The knock at the door came sharp and unexpected.
Grace’s heart lurched before her brain caught up. She forced herself to breathe and checked the peephole.
A woman stood on the porch—well-dressed, posture straight, silver-streaked hair pinned neatly back.
Luke’s mother.
Grace took a deep breath and opened the door.
“Oh!” The older woman looked surprised. “I wasn’t expecting—I mean, hello.”
Grace needed to explain why she was here. “Mrs. Bennett…”
Mrs. Bennett held out a covered dish. “I may have… uh…overcooked the roast the other night. I thought perhaps Luke would appreciate this one. As an apology.”
Grace took the dish automatically. She felt heat crawl up her neck. The casserole dish was warm in her hands. Heavy. She stood there holding it like a shield between them.
“My house had a break-in,” she blurted. “The locks are being replaced. It’s temporary. Luke insisted it was safer if I stayed somewhere with an alarm system.”
Mrs. Bennett raised an eyebrow.
Grace continued, hating the way her voice sounded too fast, too defensive. “He’s just being thorough. Professional.”
“Grace,” she said gently.
Grace stopped talking.
“I know my son.”
The words weren’t sharp. They didn’t need to be.
“This isn’t procedure,” Mrs. Bennett continued quietly. “Luke does not rearrange his life for procedure.”
Grace swallowed.
“He’s just—”
“—terrified,” Mrs. Bennett finished calmly.
Grace blinked.
“I have never seen him leave our dining table the way he did the other night,” she said. “He’s always been measured. Controlled. Careful.”
Grace didn’t know what to say.
“He informed his father and me that he had made a terrible mistake,” Mrs. Bennett continued. “That he had treated someone he cared about as if she were something to hide.”
Grace’s breath caught.
“He used language I will not repeat,” she added dryly. “But the sentiment was clear.”
Grace shook her head slightly. “He didn’t— he made it clear he didn’t want—”
“What my son wants,” Mrs. Bennett said evenly, “and what he believes he is permitted to want appear to be two different matters.”
Silence.
“He has never brought a woman into this house,” she added. “Not casually. Not seriously. Not once.”
Grace’s pulse fluttered.
“He cares about you.”
The words landed heavy and disorienting.
Grace felt the world tilt just slightly.
“No,” she said softly. “Not…not like that.”
Mrs. Bennett studied her face. A faint, almost rueful smile flicked across her mouth.
“When a Bennett man makes up his mind, Miss Hart, they are… relentless.”
Grace let out a shaky breath.
“I’m not here to offer a blessing,” Mrs. Bennett said plainly. “I don’t know you. I don’t know if you’re what my son needs.”
She held Grace’s gaze.
“But I am not na?ve.”
A pause.
“My son is absolutely undone over you.”
Grace stared at her.
“He may not have handled it well,” Mrs. Bennett continued. “He may have been foolish. But this—” She gestured at Grace, standing in the doorway of her son’s house. “This is not duty.”
Grace’s throat burned. It felt absurd—standing here clutching a roast while Luke's mother dismantled every assumption she'd built to protect herself.
“He didn’t want to be seen with me,” she said quietly.
Mrs. Bennett nodded once. “Yes. He gets his idiocy from his father’s side, probably.”
Silence settled again — less brittle now, more complicated.
“He will not give this up easily,” Mrs. Bennett said at last. “If you intend to send him away, you should be prepared to be very firm.”
The corner of her mouth lifted. “He has always been stubborn.”
Grace almost laughed. Almost.
“For what it’s worth,” she started to turn away, and then paused, “I have never seen him look as afraid as he did when he realized he might lose you.”
Grace clutched the dish, she didn’t know what to say.
“And I have never seen him care less about what people might say.”
Then she was gone.
Grace watched Luke's hands on the steering wheel as he drove her to work again the next morning.
She knew exactly what those hands felt like—knew the calluses on his palms, the way his fingers curled when he touched her, the pressure of his thumb against her pulse point.
This didn't make sense. None of it made sense.
Luke had been very clear about what he wanted from her. Sex. Privacy. Secrecy.
And Grace had broken those rules. Had asked for more, for his hand in hers on Main Street, for acknowledgment that she was more than just sex to him.
He'd said no.
It's not like this is serious. Why make it complicated?
Grace's throat tightened at the memory. He’d made it clear. Brutally clear.
So why was he here now?
Why had he driven across town in the middle of the night because she'd called 911? Why had he knelt in front of her couch with that desperate look in his eyes? Why had he brought her to his house, given her his guest room, made her feel safe? Cared for?
Why was he driving her to school like it was the most natural thing in the world?
Luke slowed for a stop sign, glancing over at her. "You okay?"
Grace nodded without speaking.
She wasn't okay. She was confused and angry and something else she didn't want to name.
He was breaking the rules he’d set, she thought. Showing up at crime scenes he wasn't assigned to. Driving her around in his cruiser where anyone could see. Taking her into his home.
Except—
No.
Luke was a cop.
He was just doing his job.
A citizen was in danger. Of course he was helping. Of course he was being protective. That's what good cops did.
It didn't mean he liked her.
It just meant he didn't want her to get hurt.
Grace stared out the window as the school came into view. Her hands curled into fists in her lap.
Luke Bennett's reputation wasn't suffering because he was protecting a woman in danger. If anything, it made him look good. Noble. Dedicated.
Dating her would be a scandal.
But this? This was just Officer Bennett doing his duty. No one would judge him for keeping a crime victim safe.
Grace had to remember that who she was hadn’t changed. And who she was wasn’t good enough for perfect, beloved, town golden boy Luke fucking Bennett.
The cruiser pulled up to the curb in front of the school.
Luke put it in park and turned toward her. "Grace—"
She grabbed her bag and shoved the door open. She climbed out and slammed the door harder than necessary.
Grace didn't look back. She walked toward the school with her head high and her shoulders squared. The morning air was cool against her flushed cheeks.
She could feel his eyes on her.
She didn't turn around.
She reached the front steps. Climbed them. Pulled open the heavy door.
Only then—hand on the door, safe threshold beneath her feet—did she glance back.
The cruiser was still there.
Luke sat behind the wheel, watching. Waiting.
Making sure she got inside safely.
Grace's chest tightened.
She stepped through the door and let it close behind her, cutting off his view.