Chapter 31 Grace
Grace
The school day ended in the usual whirlwind of backpacks, sticky fingers, and the smell of markers. Grace walked her students out, one hand holding the door open, the other waving at parents as they pulled up to the curb.
"Bye, Miss Hart!"
"See you Monday!"
“Can we do more painting next week?”
She smiled and nodded, warm and steady.
But she was more alert now.
Her eyes swept the parking lot automatically. Corners. Shadows. Parked cars. Faces.
It had become a reflex.
Ever since the break-in. Ever since the threats.
Just in case.
Today, something caught.
A man stood beneath the shade of the oak across the street. Ball cap low. Sunglasses hiding his eyes. Arms loose at his sides.
Still.
Too still.
He wasn’t waiting for a child.
Grace’s stomach dropped.
It was him. The man from her porch.
He was watching.
Watching her.
Grace’s heart kicked.
Same build. Same stillness. Same greasy aura.
His arms hung loose at his sides. Head tilted slightly. He was smiling.
Grace’s pulse began to pound, heavy and disorienting.
He smiled.
Slowly.
Then he stepped off the curb.
He was heading for her.
Grace took an automatic step back.
Around her, parents laughed. Car doors slammed. Someone called out about soccer practice.
The world kept moving.
He kept coming.
Closer now. Close enough that she could see the smirk curling one side of his mouth.
Air wouldn’t fill her lungs.
Her body screamed run.
Her feet didn’t move.
The porch all over again.
Frozen.
Trapped inside her own skin.
He reached the edge of the lot.
Another step.
Another.
Grace opened her mouth to shout—
No sound came out.
And then—
Impact.
A blur of dark blue and force.
Luke hit him like a freight train.
The man stumbled backward. Luke drove him down hard, controlled and brutal, one hand fisting the back of his jacket, the other forcing him face-first into the pavement.
“Crystal Lake PD!” Luke barked.
Grace stood mouth open as Luke secured the man, one knee on his back, hands expertly working the cuffs.
Where Grace had been frozen, Luke was all motion.
Knee planted between the man’s shoulders. Handcuffs snapping shut with efficient precision. His body positioned perfectly between her and the threat.
Teachers were shouting now. Parents had stopped. Someone gasped.
Grace still couldn’t move.
Could barely breathe. Her knees felt weak.
This man who’d smiled at her like fear was a gift—was face down on the pavement.
And Luke was above him, jaw clenched so tight she thought it might snap.
He was looking up at her.
“Grace,” he said. “Are you okay?”
She tried to speak. Failed. Nodded instead.
His voice changed, became soft. “Okay, baby, that’s good. You’re doing great.”
Luke held her gaze as he spoke into his radio, calling for backup. He stayed there until the patrol car arrived.
And the whole time, he didn’t stop talking to her. He was saying nonsense, promises he could never keep.
“He’s not getting near you again. I promise you that. I’m always going to keep you safe.”
She believed him anyway.
Luke hadn’t just shown up.
He’d stepped in.
The sirens were gone now.
So were the flashing lights. The handcuffs. The whispering teachers. The curious parents trying not to stare too obviously as the patrol car pulled away with the man in the backseat.
Grace sat on the low brick wall outside the school.
Luke had told her to sit. Then, as soon as he’d handed the man over to Mercer, he’d come to her, crouched in front of her. His voice had been low and steady. Reassuring. “You're safe. He’s in custody. You're okay.”
Her entire body ached, not from violence but from adrenaline. Her knees still felt watery. Her palms were clammy. She’d taught all day, walked her kids to the curb, smiled at parents—and then she’d looked up and he was there.
He’d walked toward her like there wasn’t a damn thing in the world that could stop him.
Luke had stopped him.
Grace pressed the heels of her hands to her eyes and tried to breathe normally.
Luke's radio crackled. Mercer's voice came through, clipped and professional. "Bennett, suspect's been ID'd. Name’s Rourke. Multiple priors. He'll be cooling his heels for a few days minimum."
"I want to know the second anything changes," Luke said, his voice hard. "The second he's out."
"Copy that."
Luke pressed his thumb to the radio, ending the transmission. His eyes found Grace again. He sat down beside her. They were quiet for a while.
He didn’t push. Didn’t talk.
Just sat with her on the low brick wall as if they had all the time in the world.
Grace exhaled, her voice rough. “I froze.”
“You spotted the danger,” Luke said. “That’s good.”
“I didn’t do anything.”
“You survived,” he said. “That’s everything.”
They sat there a while longer.
Then Grace turned toward him. “I’m glad you were here.”
His eyes met hers, steady and quiet. “Always, Grace. Always.”
Luke drove carefully—like she was made of glass and taking an abrupt corner might shatter her.
Grace stared out the window. The world looked the same as it always did—familiar streets, autumn trees shedding leaves onto sidewalks—but everything inside her felt off-kilter. Like she was watching through a pane of frosted glass, everything one step removed.
Luke pulled into his driveway, put the cruiser in park, and cut the engine. Neither of them moved for a second.
“Okay,” he said. “Let’s get inside.”
The door was open before she thought to reach for the handle. Luke offered a hand.
Grace took it. When they reached the front steps and her knees wobbled just a little, his hand came to the small of her back. Just a brush. Just enough to steady her.
Inside, Luke steered her toward his couch. She sank into the cushions. They smelled like him.
She looked up at him.
“Why did you bring me here?” she asked. “Why not… my house? He’s arrested. It’s over.”
Luke shook his head. “Not until I replace your locks.”
Oh.
“I’m not taking chances,” he said. “I’m not letting you sleep there until I know for sure it’s safe.”
He sounded protective in a way that made something deep in her chest ache.
“I can call a locksmith—”
“I already did,” he said. “I’m handling it.”
Grace looked down at her hands. “You don’t have to—”
“I want to,” he said softly. “I want to take care of this. I want to take care of you.”
Grace swallowed hard. Her voice came out quieter than she meant. “You’re being really gentle with me.”
Luke exhaled. Sat on the edge of the armchair across from her, elbows resting on his knees. “Do you think so? Because I think I haven’t been gentle enough. Not even close.”
She looked at him.
He’d tackled a man in front of her. And now he was here, asking if she was okay and replacing her locks without being asked.
Something in her chest cracked a little.
Grace pressed her lips together, trying to breathe through the tightness in her chest. She closed her eyes.
When she opened them again, he was still watching her. Careful. Quiet. Present.
“Thank you,” she said. “For showing up.”
Luke smiled, but it looked pained. “Gracie, there’s nowhere else I would’ve been.”