"One night" turned into a week the moment I saw Preston's face on the news, declaring a desperate search for his "beloved bride." Panic pinned me to the floorboards of the dusty room above the garage. I couldn't leave. I had nowhere to go. I pleaded with Luke to let me stay, promising to stay completely out of his way.

The problem? I didn't know how to exist without a team of people doing things for me. My first morning, I tried to use the battered coffee maker in the tiny kitchenette and ended up shattering Luke's favorite ceramic mug on the linoleum. I froze, holding my breath, waiting for the reprimand. Waiting for him to tell me how useless I was, like Preston always did.

Luke walked in, looked at the shattered pieces, and silently grabbed a broom. He didn't sigh, and he didn't clean it up for me. He handed me the dustpan. Then, he placed a new mug on the counter. "Watch," he said, his voice a low, gravelly rumble. He stood close enough that I could smell cedar and motor oil, his large, calloused hands guiding my shaking ones. He didn't treat me like a fragile glass doll. He taught me the exact water-to-grounds ratio, how to press the button, how to pour. I stood there in one of his oversized, faded flannels, swimming in rough cotton, and took my first sip. It was bitter, strong, and entirely mine. I wasn't just learning how to make coffee; I was learning how to live.

Learning to brew coffee or brewing some intense chemistry? Luke teaching Claire to do things for herself is everything! 😭 Do you think Preston is getting closer? Hit ❤️ if you want Claire to stay in the garage forever, and share your thoughts below! 👇✨