This town knew him. Expected things from him because of his family name. Had plans already written with his name on them.
Luke had never questioned it.
Until Grace.
She rearranged his priorities.
He’d told himself he’d been doing the right thing.
It was almost laughable how wrong he’d been.
She didn’t trust him. Not anymore.
He could see it in the way she was when he pushed too hard. Guarded. Careful. Looking at him like she didn’t know where she stood.
Like he might disappear again.
He couldn’t fix everything at once.
But he could fix a porch.
He straightened, slid into the driver’s seat, and pulled back onto the street—lumber rattling softly behind him like a promise he intended to keep.
He kepthis speed down as drove through Main Street.
The town was already gearing up.
Orange bunting fluttered between lampposts. A flatbed truck idled near the gazebo while a couple of volunteers unloaded hay bales, laughing as one tipped.
The fall festival.
Normally, he thought of it as duty. This year, something else stirred. He imagined Grace there. On his arm.
Not tucked away. Not catching her eye with a surreptitious nod. Not texting her that he would visit her bedroom later.
No.
He’d walk her through the square in full view of everyone who’d ever whispered her name. Let the town see exactly who he was with.
The image came fully formed—her coat buttoned against the chill, her hair caught in the glow of the string lights, laughing as he steered her through the crowd with his arm around her.
For the first time, the future didn’t look like a list of ambitions he was expected to check off. It looked like something hewanted.
He turned on Maple. Grace’s house sat halfway down the block. The sight of it did something steadying to his chest.
Home.
The word came unbidden, instinctive—and he didn’t correct it.
He didn’t drive past and park around the corner. He parked in the driveway. Got out.
He was going to walk straight up those sagging front steps. Past the crooked railing. Right to the front door. Right to Grace Hart.
He smiled to himself.
And he hoped that on the weekend—under lights and leaves and the watchful eyes of Crystal Lake—Grace Hart would be at his side.
"Afternoon, Officer Bennett."
