Chapter 6
Luke
Luke felt the first coil of regret tighten in his gut. He hadn’t meant to say it like that.
Grace had gone still.
Too still.
He swallowed hard, suddenly wishing he could rewind five seconds. Five minutes. The whole damn night.
“Gracie,” he said, softer, reaching toward her without thinking.
She moved back just enough that he didn’t make contact.
His hand dropped.
She wasn’t supposed to just end it.
Not when he still needed—
“Look,” he said, forcing calm he didn’t feel, “I’m not trying to be an ass. I just thought we understood each other.”
Her eyes were blank. She wasn’t angry. She wasn’t flustered. She was… done.
Luke’s heartbeat kicked harder.
“I thought we were on the same page,” he continued, hearing the tightness in his own voice. “Casual. No pressure. Nobody getting ahead of themselves.”
Nobody catching feelings.
He didn’t say that part, but the echo rang loud inside his skull.
Grace shrugged, “Maybe we were. Now we’re not. So I’m ending it.”
A sudden panic clawed at him. “You’re being ridiculous.” His voice was sharper, meaner than he intended. “Ending a perfectly good thing because you suddenly want—what? Romance? Candlelit dinners? That’s never going to happen.”
He was being a jerk. He just didn’t know how to stop. He opened his mouth—no idea what he planned to say—but the look on her face stopped him cold.
She still didn’t look angry.
Just resolute.
“Luke,” she said, sounding tired. Sounding done. “Just go.”
Her voice was calm. Soft. Final.
The room felt too small, the air too thick.
“If that’s what you want,” he forced out, the words scraping his throat raw.
He stepped out of her house and when he turned back, she slammed the door in his face.