Grace’s grip tightened. Luke squeezed her hand in answer.
“Not tonight,” he said to Eli.
A knock sounded on the half-open door.
“Evening,” a voice called. “Heard somebody decided to test their ribs.”
Evan Roberts stepped in, EMT bag slung over one shoulder. He wore navy uniform pants and a fire department T-shirt. Tall. Broad through the shoulders. Calm in that way first responders either learned or were born with.
“Roberts,” Luke acknowledged with a nod.
“Bennett.” Evan’s gaze shifted to Eli. “You’re my problem tonight?”
Eli gave him a crooked look. “Depends. You gentle?”
Evan snorted softly. “Not especially. But I’m efficient.”
Evan set his bag down and crouched in front of Eli. “Alright. Tell me what hurts.”
“Ribs,” Eli muttered.
“Yeah, I gathered that.” Evan’s hands moved with practiced confidence, pressing carefully along Eli’s side.
Grace hovered near the wall. Luke stayed beside her. When Eli flinched, her fingers curled tighter around Luke’s hand. He didn’t move. Didn’t look away.
Eventually Evan stepped back. “Nothing feels broken. You’ve got some solid bruising, though. You’re going to hate tomorrow.”
When they were alone again, Eli leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes, the tension bleeding slowly out of his shoulders.
Luke turned to Grace.
“We need to take his statement now,” he said. “You can’t be here for that.”
Her mouth tightened immediately. “I don’t want to leave?—”
“You’re not leaving,” he said, softer now. “Just… you’ll have to wait out here.”
He squeezed her hand and guided her back into the main area of the station.
Luke stopped at his desk. The chair he spent most of his waking hours in.
He pulled it out for her. “Sit.”
Grace lowered herself into it. She looked small there. Wrapped too tight in her coat. Her shoulders still drawn up like she was bracing for impact.
Seeing her in his chair—his space—did something sharp and protective in his chest.
Luke grabbed his mug, then headed down the hall to the break area. The machine whirred and clanked like it always did, spitting out the hot chocolate. Bad hot chocolate. Too sweet. But at least it would be hot.
He brought it back and set the mug in front of her. Watched her hands close around it. Watched her shoulders ease, her breath deepen, just a little.
“I’ll be back as soon as I can,” Luke said.
Grace looked up at him then.
She nodded once. “Okay.”
Luke stood there for a beat longer than necessary, then turned back toward the hallway.
