He parked half a block down, engine idling, and stared at her little house. The porch light was on. Warm light glowed behind the curtains in her living room.
Luke's grip tightened on the steering wheel.
He was here to make sure she was okay. It was his job, wasn't it? To protect people in this town?
But the bitter taste in his mouth now had nothing to do with duty.
Someone else was in there with her. Someone she'd chosen to let in through the front door, in full view of the neighbors, because she wasn't ashamed?—
The front door opened.
Luke went still.
A figure stepped out onto the porch, silhouetted against the light. Male. Tall. Grace appeared in the doorway behind him, arms wrapped around herself against the evening chill.
The man said something that made Grace laugh, and then headed down the steps.
As he passed under the streetlight, Luke's mouth dropped.
Eli Hart.
Luke sat frozen in his cruiser, shame burning through him like acid.
Criminal houseguest.
He'd thought—Christ, what had he thought? That Grace had shacked up with someone that fast?
Grace had let her brother stay with her. Had waved him goodbye on the porch where anyone could see. Because she wasn't ashamed of him. Because she didn't hide the people she cared about.
Unlike Luke.
He’d parked around the corner from this very house. He'd slipped in through the back door like a thief. He'd made her keep the lights low so the neighbors wouldn't talk.
He'd been so sure he was protecting something—his career, his family's name, his future. He'd told himself the secrecy was practical, that Grace understood, that it was just how things had to be.
Luke leaned forward, pressing his forehead against the steering wheel.
He'd failed her.
He'd made a choice. Again and again, every time he'd parked around the corner, every time he'd turned away from her on Main Street, every time he'd touched her in the dark and then pretended not to know her in the light.
He'd chosen his comfort over her dignity.
And she'd been brave enough to walk away.
Luke lifted his head, staring at her house. The porch light was still on, but Grace had gone back inside.
God, he wanted to go to her. He wanted to walk up those front steps and get on his knees and beg her to forgive him.
But he wasn’t going to do that in the middle of the night.
That truth sat heavy and immovable in his chest.
He had no claim on her nights or her days. No privilege to show up and demand space in Grace Hart's life after everything he'd done—or failed to do.
She had offered him more. And he'd rejected her.
The thought was physically painful.
