Luke looked at him. The whole town had seen what Jake had done. And how far he’d gone to make amends.
“So I know what I’m talking about,” Jake said. “You fucked up? You fix it.”
Luke let out a humorless breath. “It’s not that easy.”
“No,” Jake agreed. “It’s not.” He met Luke’s eyes. “Not easy. But it is simple.”
They stood there, the sounds of town drifting around them. A truck passing. Someone laughing down the block.
Luke looked at the route again. The path he’d walk as Festival Marshal. Front and center. Visible. Celebrated.
And Grace?—
Grace would be somewhere in the crowd.
The thought hollowed him out.
“What’s the point,” Luke said quietly, “of being celebrated if I don’t deserve it?”
Jake’s expression softened. Just a fraction. “That’s a good question.” He clapped Luke on the shoulder and glanced back at the clipboard. “Come on. We’ve got work to do.”
CHAPTER 31
Grace
The school dayended in the usual whirlwind of backpacks, sticky fingers, and the smell of markers. Grace walked her students out, one hand holding the door open, the other waving at parents as they pulled up to the curb.
"Bye, Miss Hart!"
"See you Monday!"
“Can we do more painting next week?”
She smiled and nodded, warm and steady.
But she was more alert now.
Her eyes swept the parking lot automatically. Corners. Shadows. Parked cars. Faces.
It had become a reflex.
Ever since the break-in. Ever since the threats.
Just in case.
Today, something caught.
A man stood beneath the shade of the oak across the street. Ball cap low. Sunglasses hiding his eyes. Arms loose at his sides.
Still.
Too still.
He wasn’t waiting for a child.
Grace’s stomach dropped.
It was him. The man from her porch.
