Something had happened at her address and he hadn’t been the one sent to her.
He hadn’t been the one checking the locks, sweeping the floor, standing between her and whatever asshole thought her home was fair game.
Mercer had.
Her house violated. Her space no longer safe. And Luke was only finding out about it now.
Luke set the mug down harder than necessary, his mind already racing ahead. Broken window could show intent. What if this wasn’t kids screwing around? What if this wasn’t random?
He checked the board. No follow-up assigned. No additional patrols flagged. Just a routine entry, already being forgotten.
He wanted to go to her.
She’d been scared. And he hadn’t been there.
He wasn’t her boyfriend. He wasn’t her lover.
But hewasa police officer in this town.
He’d follow up. See if she was okay. That was reasonable. That was professional.
The lie barely held.
He’d been inside her life in ways that mattered, learned her routines, her vulnerabilities. That kind of closeness didn’t come with an expiration date just because she’d ended it. He’d shared her bed. He knew the shape of her. That counted for something. He was allowed—entitled, even—to make sure she was okay.
Someone had thrown a rock through Grace Hart’s window, and every instinct he had screamed that she shouldn’t be alone with that.
By the time he pulled up at the school, the need to see her was impossible to ignore.
Because whatever line she’d drawn between them, whatever rules he’d told himself he needed to follow?—
None of it mattered as much as knowing Grace was safe.
This wasn’tabout patrols or optics or any of the rules he lived his life by.
This was about Grace.
This was pointless. He’d already heard enough to know she wasn’t hurt. Broken window, no follow-up, routine call. Grace Hart was fine.
The tension didn’t ease.
It didn’t ease until he saw her.
Luke waited a few steps back from her classroom door, hands loose at his sides, posture neutral. Waiting. Reasonable. Like he had every right to be here.
The classroom door opened and there she was.
Standing there in front of him. Breathing. Unhurt.
Relief hit him hard and full-bodied, like he’d been holding his breath without realizing it. His shoulders dropped. His jaw unclenched.
He’dneededto see her. Knowing she was okay hadn’t been enough—not really—not until she was right there in front of him, solid and real.
Their eyes met.
Something flashed across her face—recognition, yes, but not warmth. Not relief.
She crossed her arms.
