What if she let herself believe this, really believe it, and he walked away again?
It had been bad last time. This time it would be worse. So much worse.
And yet?—
The porch. His hands gentle at her waist. His mouth warm and careful like he was asking a question.
But also?—
Him leaving her bed, gone before dawn. Him turning away on Main Street. Him sayingit’s not like this is seriouslike it hadn’t already burrowed under her skin and made a home.
She thought of her brother. Of Luke who had surprised her. Luke who had protected him.
And now he was standing on that stage, waiting for her response.
He was standing there, holding her gaze, his face open in a way she had never seen before.
Hope. Fear. Anguish.
Her heart was pounding so hard she was surprised no one could hear it.
She wanted to be brave.
She wanted to believe him.
But how could she? How could she be that stupid?
The Hart girl who thought she could have the golden boy.
She couldn’t. She couldn’t trust him. Not when he had broken her heart like it was nothing.
She had to say no. She had to protect herself.
She opened her mouth?—
A hand clamped over it from behind.
One momentshe was standing behind the table, breath caught in her throat, the wordnogathering shape behind her teeth?—
—and then she was yanked backward, a hand over her mouth and an arm locked around her middle, crushing the air from her lungs. The chair she’d been sitting on, fell. The table jolted, paint pots rattling, water sloshing.
Her feet scrambled, barely finding the ground. Something cold and hard pressed against her ribs. He had a knife.
Someone screamed. A hovering parent pulled the half-painted tiger back, arms wrapped around him protectively. The crowd surged, confused, bodies moving forward and back at the same time.
Grace’s heart slammed into overdrive.
Her thoughts scattered, useless, as instinct took over. She tried to inhale through her mouth but only tasted sweat. The arm around her tightened, the knife pressing harder as he hauled her backward, dragging her away from the table, from the square.
From Luke.
A voice hissed in her ear.
“You got me arrested.”
The words scraped against her skin.
“My boss isn’t happy with me,” he snarled. “Hart bitch.”
