Grace stepped between them before either could say something that made this worse. "Officer Mercer," she said, voice carefully controlled, "someone threw a rock through my window. With a threatening note. I called because I thought the police might want to investigate that."
Mercer's expression didn't change. "We'll file a report. Patrol the area. But honestly, Miss Hart?" He clicked his pen closed. "Best advice I can give you is to be careful about the company you keep."
Grace felt heat rise in her cheeks—anger, humiliation. She'd called for help. She'd done the right thing. And this was what she got.
"I think we're done here," she said quietly.
Mercer tucked his notepad into his belt. "I'll take a drive around, see if I can see anything unusual. In the meantime—" He glanced at Eli one more time. "—lock your doors."
He walked out through the front, boots heavy on her porch steps.
The second the door closed, Grace sagged against the counter.
Eli moved toward her. "Gracie?—"
"Don't." She held up a hand, eyes burning. "Just… don't."
She stared at the broken window, at the glass still scattered across her floor.
This was her home. Her safe place. And in one morning, it had all cracked open.
Grace pressed her palms flat against the counter and breathed.
In. Out. In.
She would clean up the glass. Board the window. Get through the day.
She would survive this.
She had to.
Because no one else was coming to help.
CHAPTER 13
Luke
“—Hart place on Maple,”Sullivan was saying. “Rock through the back door window. Mercer took it.”
Luke’s hand stilled.
“What?” The word came out sharper than he meant it to.
Sullivan glanced over. “Yeah. Early morning call. Vandalism. Didn’t sound like much.”
Didn’t sound like much.
Luke’s pulse kicked hard, immediate and ugly. “When was the call?”
Sullivan shrugged. “About 4 o’clock.”
Something cold slid down his spine. She hadn’t called him.
Of course she hadn’t.
Why would she? He’d made it very clear where he stood. What he was willing to be. What he wasn’t.
But in this moment, he didn’t care.
