He turned down Lakeview Road.
He didn’t miss the way her laugh would loosen something he kept wound too tight. Didn’t miss the way she’d curl against him, warm and content, fitting perfectly by his side. He didn’t miss the way she’d look at him. Didn’t miss the way her eyes would find him in any room.
So why did the thought of her being with someone else make his chest feel tight?
Why did it matter who fixed her door?
Why had his hands itched to touch her in the produce aisle?
Luke pulled over near the lake, gravel crunching under his tires.
He shut off the engine and sat there in the dark, staring out at the water. Across the lake, lights from houses glimmered.
She wasn’t his.
She’d made that clear.
She’d asked for more than he could give, and when he’d told her how it needed to be, she’d just… ended things.
Who the hell ends something that good?
Grace—Grace was just?—
All at once, his chest felt too tight.
Luke leaned forward, resting his forehead against the steering wheel.
She wasn’t his to care for. She wasn’t his to protect. She wasn’t his.
So why did it feel like he’d just lost something that had been woven through this town—and through him—long before he’d noticed?
Luke arrived at his parents’house ten minutes late. The porch light was already on, casting a familiar yellow glow over the neat hedges and freshly swept steps. Everything about the place wasorderly. Predictable. Safe. His mother’s idea of a proper home—no surprises, no loose ends.
He let himself in without knocking.
“Luke?” his mother called from the kitchen. “That you?”
“Yeah,” he said, hanging his jacket by the door. The smell of pot roast and onions hit him immediately, warm and heavy.
His dad was reading the paper, glasses perched low on his nose. He looked up as Luke came in, nodding once in greeting.
“You look tired,” his mother said. “Long day?”
“Something like that.”
Luke poured himself a glass of water and leaned against the counter, letting the familiar domestic noise wash over him. His parents moving around each other with the ease of people who’d never had to question where they stood.
He should’ve felt calmer here.
Instead, his jaw stayed tight.
They sat down to eat, the table set exactly the way it had been his entire life.
His dad cleared his throat. “Saw Mercer today.”
Luke’s grip tightened on his fork. “Yeah?”
“Mentioned he handled some vandalism over on Maple Street. Hart place.”
