Chapter 37
Grace
Grace stood in her front doorway, coffee cooling in her hands, and stared.
Luke Bennett was on her porch.
Not sneaking around the back. Not glancing up and down the street like he expected to be caught doing something wrong.
He was on her porch in broad daylight, tool belt slung low on his hips, sleeves rolled up, forearms streaked with dust and paint chips.
Her porch.
The one with the sagging railing she’d meant to fix for years and never quite had the money or the energy or the heart to deal with.
Luke had propped it up with a temporary brace and was crouched near the post, tightening something with a socket wrench. The wood creaked softly, then settled.
Grace leaned against the doorframe, watching him like she might be hallucinating.
Afternoon sunlight cut across the street. Leaves skittered along the sidewalk. Somewhere a lawnmower droned.
And Luke Bennett—Crystal Lake’s careful, image-conscious cop—was repairing her porch like it was the most natural thing in the world.
He glanced up and caught her staring.
“Hi,” he said easily.
She blinked. “You’re… very visible.”
His mouth twitched. “Yeah. I noticed.”
She stepped onto the porch slowly. “You know Mrs. Keaton’s curtains are open, right?”
Across the street, the faint twitch of lace confirmed that yes—Mrs. Keaton was absolutely watching.
Luke tightened another bolt. “Good.”
Grace’s heart stuttered. “Good?”
He straightened, wiping his hands on a rag. “Keeping what I feel toward you as a secret?” He looked at her. “I’m done with that.”
Grace frowned. “You didn’t have to do this,” she said.
“I wanted to.” He nudged the railing experimentally. It didn’t budge. “This thing’s been one good lean away from giving up the ghost.”
She smiled faintly. “It’s been like that since I moved in.”
Footsteps crunched on the sidewalk. Mrs. Keaton herself, power-walking past with her little white dog tucked under one arm like an accessory.
She slowed. Very obviously.
“Well,” Mrs. Keaton said brightly. “Good afternoon, Grace.”
Grace smiled. “Afternoon, Mrs. Keaton.”
The woman’s gaze slid to Luke. Took him in—the tools, the work gloves, the fact that he was fixing things.
“Haven’t seen you out front much before,” she said mildly.
Luke blushed. “You’ll be seeing a lot more of me. Now I’ve got my head out of my ass.”
Mrs. Keaton pursed her lips—not disapproving. Assessing.
“Well,” she said after a moment, “that railing’s been leaning for years. Nice of you to take care of it.”
Luke smiled politely. “Happy to.”
She nodded once. Then—to Grace—“You’re lucky to have someone handy around.”
Then she walked on, dog bobbing smugly.
Grace stared after Mrs. Keaton, unease creeping up her spine.
“I thought people—” she began.
“Grace,” Luke said gently, “people already liked you.”
She let out a short breath. “You don’t know that.”
“You should hear what they say when you’re not around.”
Her chest tightened despite herself. “What do they say?”
“That you’re kind. That you’re good with kids. That their grandkids adore you. That you stay late without complaining. That you make that classroom feel safe.” His mouth curved faintly. “That you show up.”
Grace’s fingers tightened around her coffee mug.
“They didn’t think less of you,” he continued. “They thought less of me.”
She frowned. “What?”
“Because I was sneaking.” His jaw flexed. “Because it looked like I was ashamed of you.”
The words landed heavy.
“They noticed?” she asked quietly.
Luke huffed a humorless breath. “Oh, they noticed.”
Grace looked away.
All those nights. The back door. The shadows. The silence.
She had thought it was humiliating when people hadn’t known. It felt worse now.
She wasn’t sure what was happening on her face, but Luke said, “Grace, no. Whatever you’re thinking, no.”
He left his work, stepped in close to her.
“You don’t have anything to be embarrassed about, Grace,” Luke said. “I’m the one who was the idiot.”
This was new. This version of him — in daylight, sleeves rolled, tools scattered at his feet — was unfamiliar to her.
Dangerously easy to believe.
“For the record,” he added, quieter now, “even if being with you lowered my standing… I’d take that hit.”
Grace held his gaze.
A month ago, that sentence would have undone her.
He reached for her hand.
She let him take it.
But she didn’t lean in.
She didn’t melt.
She stood there on her porch in full daylight, aware of the open curtains, the watching town, the history between them.
Visible didn’t mean safe.
Public didn’t mean permanent.
And one afternoon with a wrench didn’t erase the night he’d told her no.
Eli cleared his throat from the doorway.
Grace looked up from the sink. “What’s that face?”
“The face of a man about to tell his sister something she is not going to like.”
She sighed, dried her hands on the dish towel, and turned to face him. “If you broke my coffee maker, I swear to God—”
“I didn’t break anything,” he said quickly. “I’m… moving out.”
The words landed softer than she expected. Still, her chest tightened.
“What?” she said. “You know you don’t have to.”
“I know.” He leaned his shoulder against the doorframe, casual but watchful. “But I’ve got options now. A guy I knew back before everything—before I screwed things up—still lives here. Turns out he’s got a spare room.”
Grace frowned.
“And I’m on probation anyway. I can’t leave town. Figured I should stop imposing.”
“You’re not imposing,” she said immediately. “Eli. Your ribs are still healing. You shouldn’t be—”
He smiled gently. “Gracie.”
She stopped.
“This isn’t about my ribs.” He smiled at her. “This is about me being a third wheel.”
Her shoulders stiffened.
Eli tipped his head, studying her. “The man’s fixing your railing.”
“That doesn’t mean anything.”
“It means something,” he said. “At least… the way he looks at you does.”
“You don’t know him like I do,” she said. “You don’t know how good he is at showing up when it suits him. How convincing he can be when you don’t know better.”
“That’s not what this looks like.”
“You weren’t here before,” she said, sharper now. “You didn’t see how it was. Sneaking around. Being—” She cut herself off, swallowed. “Avoided.”
His teasing faded. “I’m not saying you should forget that,” he said quietly. “You shouldn’t.”
She crossed her arms, holding herself together. “I won’t do that to myself again. I’m not going to confuse his protective cop instincts with his actual feelings.”
She looked away, jaw tight. “I won’t be pathetic about this. Not again.”
Eli stepped closer. “Grace.”
She met his eyes.
“You know I’d be the first one to tell you if I thought he was full of shit,” he said.
“And?” she asked.
He gestured vaguely around the house, at the sink that Luke had fixed, at Luke’s tools hanging by the door. “This doesn’t feel like that.”
She shook her head. Her brother was just as naive as she was.
“You don’t owe him forgiveness. Or trust. Or anything, really.”
She waited.
“But,” he continued, “he’s trying.”
Her heart thudded painfully.
“That doesn’t erase the past,” she said. “Luke Bennett is never going to stand up in front of the whole town and announce that he’s with me.”
“Maybe not,” Eli agreed sadly. “But you could still have something with him. He could still make you happy.”
She said nothing.
Eli exhaled. “I’m not telling you to jump into his arms. I’m just saying… maybe don’t barricade the door so hard you can’t hear him knocking.”
Grace looked down at the floor.
Eli stepped forward and wrapped her in a hug. Tight. Familiar. Safe.
“You deserve someone who makes you happy,” he said into her hair. “Whether that’s him or not.”
Her throat burned. She hugged him back.
By ten-thirty, the classroom had lost any pretense of being a classroom.
Paper pumpkins littered the tables. Candy corn rattled inside little plastic cups as the kids practiced counting by twos, threes, and—ambitiously—fives.
“Okay,” Grace said, clapping once. “Remember—markers stay on the paper, not on your neighbor.”
“But it’s the festival tomorrow,” Leo protested, bouncing in his seat like his chair was made of springs.
“I know,” Grace said, smiling. “Which is why we’re channeling that energy into very festive math.”
Groans. Laughter. She moved between tables, redirecting, praising, gently herding excitement into something manageable. This was her strength—meeting them where they were, even when they were vibrating with anticipation.
“Miss Hart!” Emma waved her drawing at her. “Look! I made the parade!”
Grace leaned down. “That’s beautiful. I love the pumpkins.”
“And the police car!” Emma added. “My mom says Officer Bennett is gonna lead the parade!”
A chorus erupted instantly.
“He’s the Festival Marshal!”
“That’s like the king!”
“My dad says he gets to walk first!”
“He has a speech!”
Grace’s smile stayed in place. Easy. Automatic.
“That sounds exciting,” she said. “Now, who can tell me how many candy corns are in this cup?”
Hands shot up.
She kept moving, kept teaching, kept her voice steady even as Luke’s name bounced around the room.
Mrs. Ellery appeared in the doorway just before the school bell, clipboard tucked under her arm, eyes fond as she took in the scene.
“Controlled chaos,” she murmured.
“The best kind,” Grace said.
Mrs. Ellery glanced at the clipboard. “I just wanted to confirm—you’re still set for the school booth tomorrow? Face painting from one to three.”
Luke at the head of the parade, uniform crisp, voice carrying as he spoke to the town. Applause. Pride. Visibility. And Grace—sitting behind a folding table with washable paints and a cup of murky rinse water.
“Yes,” Grace said. “I’ll be there.”
“We can always count on you.” Mrs. Ellery smiled.
“Miss Hart?” Benjamin tugged on her sleeve. “Are you bringing someone to the festival?”
She blinked.
“I—” She smiled down at him. “I’ll be working, remember?”
“My mom says the festival is when you bring someone you like.”
Grace had once dared to picture Luke's hand in hers as they walked through the crowd, imagined him winning her a stuffed animal at the ring toss, sharing a candy apple. Imagining it had been foolish enough. She shouldn’t have been stupid enough to ask for it.
"Well, I'll be seeing all of you there, and I like you!" she said brightly.
Satisfied, he scampered off.
Mrs. Ellery lingered.
“You alright?” she asked gently.
“Yes,” Grace said automatically. Then, after a beat, “Just tired.”
Mrs. Ellery studied her. “Officer Bennett sure has been around a lot lately,” Mrs. Ellery said overly casually.
Grace felt herself blush. “He was helping me with a situation. But that’s resolved now.”
“Mmhmm.” A pause. “He’s a handsome man.”
The bell rang not long after. Backpacks were slung on shoulders, papers gathered, goodbyes shouted with extra enthusiasm because the next day was Saturday and this week Saturday meant hay rides and caramel apples and sugar highs.
When the room finally emptied, Grace sank into her chair and let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding.
Grace loved this weekend—the way the town came together. But this year, she would watch from the sidelines as Luke Bennett was celebrated by everyone. The golden son of Crystal Lake.