Love Burned, She Rose Unscathed novel Chapter 844

But it wasn’t Roseanne who walked in—it was Grace.

Seeing the dark shadow clouding Murray’s face, Grace’s heart skipped. She hurried to explain, “Cliff called and said you’d been drinking. He was worried about you being alone and asked me to come check on you.”

She stepped closer, stopping in front of him. “Are you… alright? You don’t really seem all that drunk.”

Murray lowered his gaze, hiding the disappointment in his eyes. “I’m fine.”

“Then I’ll just… head out,” Grace said, biting her lip.

“Alright.”

She turned to leave.

Suddenly—a startled cry rang out from outside.

Murray’s brow furrowed. He walked out to see what had happened.

Grace was sitting on the step at the bottom of the porch, already slipping off her shoe to examine her ankle.

“Are you okay? Did you hurt yourself?”

Startled by his voice, Grace looked back over her shoulder and forced a cheerful smile. “I’m fine, really. Nothing to worry about.”

Murray glanced down. “Your ankle’s swelling.”

“Probably just twisted it a little. I’ll be alright…” she replied, bracing herself and trying to stand.

But as soon as she put weight on her foot, she sucked in a breath through her teeth, pain flashing across her face.

Murray’s frown deepened.

Still, Grace insisted, “I’m fine, really. I just need a minute.”

Before she could protest further, Murray scooped her up in his arms and carried her back inside to the living room.

Grace froze, wide-eyed. But inside, she was secretly delighted.

She’d gambled—and won.

At first, Murray considered calling the family doctor, but then he realized—it was New Year’s Eve, and far too late. That wouldn’t be fair to anyone.

He turned to Grace. “Does it feel serious?”

“I… I think so,” she said, though she wasn’t sure. She’d only managed to get one here by offering the driver extra cash. This was a secluded neighborhood, after all.

Murray shook his head. “Never mind. Try to call a cab. I’ve been drinking, so I can’t drive. If you can’t get one, you can use the guest room for the night and leave in the morning.”

Grace’s eyes lit up, but she masked it with a look of gratitude. “Thank you. I promise I won’t be any trouble.”

Murray simply nodded before heading upstairs without another word.

Grace watched him go, waiting until his figure disappeared around the landing before she let herself relax and take in the house. The living room was massive, open and bright. The chandelier overhead sparkled—a stunning centerpiece for the whole space.

…

The next morning, Murray woke early and headed downstairs. Halfway down the steps, the aroma of food reached him.

He hurried to the kitchen, only to find Grace’s slender silhouette at the stove, apron tied neatly around her waist.

A pot simmered on the stove—nourishing soup bubbling gently. Beside it, a frying pan held eggs, just finished and golden at the edges.

For a moment, Murray felt himself transported back in time.

He remembered how, every morning, he’d find Roseanne in the kitchen, bustling around in her pajamas, preparing breakfast. He’d linger in the doorway, a smile on his lips, watching her every move, before he crossed the room and wrapped her up in his arms from behind—earning a startled, playful protest every time.