Chapter 14
NORAH
The moment Norah stepped out of her car, she regretted the Spanx.
Designer armor had a way of turning into a slow-moving death trap when paired with a chilly West Virginia afternoon. Her dress—a midnight-blue silk that cost more than her first month’s rent out of college—made her appear polished. Elegant. Untouchable.
Exactly how she wanted to appear.
Exactly nothing like how she felt.
The venue sat on the edge of their hometown, a renovated barn turned country-elegant wedding space, strung with warm lights and lined with flower barrels. The scent of damp hay and eucalyptus mingled in the air. Voices floated from inside—laughing, familiar, painfully nostalgic.
Of course it would be her best friend, and Marshall’s little sister getting married. Of course she would come home for it. And of course . . . Marshall Kelley would choose today of all days to show up looking like every unresolved dream she’d ever had.
She spotted him before she meant to.
He was leaning against one of the wooden support beams near the entrance of the chapel, talking quietly with his uncle, his posture relaxed—but his eyes sharp.
Always scanning. Always calculating. Always .
. . him. The navy suit he wore wasn’t business-Marshall.
It wasn’t the tactical-gear, tactical-glower version she’d grown too used to.
He wore a white dress shirt, open at the collar, tucked into charcoal slacks that hugged him in a way that should’ve been illegal in at least seven states.
His hair was slightly longer than she realized—windswept in a way that looked unintentional but she knew wasn’t—and he had that focused, contained energy he always carried when he was trying not to show how on alert he really was.
Heat hit her throat and she tamped it down—hard.
He looked up. Their eyes met like a collision.
Darn it.
She didn’t walk toward him. She wouldn’t walk toward him. But her traitor feet turned anyway.
“Didn’t expect to see you here,” she said lightly, trying to arrange her mouth into something that wasn’t a scowl or a wistful smile.
For half a heartbeat, Marshall Kelley—who probably walked into gunfire without flinching—went still.
Not rigid. Not tense. Just . . . arrested.
His breath caught the tiniest bit. His eyes swept over her in one slow, stunned pass, the kind of look she used to get when she walked toward him across a football field, wearing his jacket, the whole world narrowing to just the two of them.
He didn’t hide it fast enough.
His gaze dipped—once—to the line of her shoulder, the fall of her dress, the curve at her waist. His jaw flexed, a muscle ticking like he’d been punched somewhere he couldn’t protect.
When his eyes climbed back to hers, they were steadier, disciplined again, but the damage was done.
She’d seen it—the honest, unguarded moment beneath all that control.
“Norah,” he said, her name coming out low, rough-edged. He cleared his throat, straightened, forced the tension out of his posture. “You look . . .”
Another pause. A swallow.
“ . . . really nice.”
Nice.
The man who once wrote her a birthday card calling her breathtaking, who whispered “beautiful” against her collarbone when they were seventeen, had downgraded her to nice.
And somehow, the way he’d looked at her just now made the word feel like an apology for everything he wasn’t letting himself say.
“Thanks,” she said, dryly. “You clean up pretty well yourself.”
He huffed out something that wasn’t quite a laugh. “Just trying to blend in.”
“You’re six-two and scowling at the flower girl.”
He opened his mouth—probably to deny he was scowling—but a new voice cut in.
“Oh! Norah!”
Her mother swooped toward her like a cheerful hawk, clinging to a glittering clutch and wearing a dress two shades too bright for the setting. “You look gorgeous, sweetheart. Absolutely stunning. And Marshall—oh my goodness, look at you!”
Norah nearly groaned.
Her mother clasped Marshall’s forearm with the familiarity of someone who’d fed him countless dinners and prayed over him during flu seasons. “Marshall, I haven’t seen you in years. You came alone?”
Norah stepped in. “Mom, he’s not—”
Her mother winked—winked—at Marshall like she was casting him in a Hallmark movie. “Well. Plenty of time to fix that.”
“Goodbye, Mom.”
Norah escaped toward the aisle just as Marshall slipped inside behind her. She felt him before she saw him—like a shift in gravity. His parents waved warmly from the second row. His mother even mouthed Hi, sweetheart, as if they’d spoken last week instead of fifteen years ago.
It was too much.
She slid into a seat beside Marshall’s aunt who immediately took her hand. “I’m so glad you’re home.” Her voice trembled just slightly. “This place hasn’t felt the same without you.”
Norah tried to smile but something inside her pinched. Home wasn’t home anymore. Nothing fit the way it used to—like wearing a coat she’d outgrown or trying to step back into a life that had moved on without her.
She kept her eyes forward.
She didn’t look. Wouldn’t. But she felt the warmth of him. The awareness. The history.
The ceremony music began. Norah saw Jackson duck into the back of the church, his exhaustion evident to anyone looking closely.
She couldn’t help but wonder where he’d been and what he’d been up to.
She knew he worked with Marshall. Some place called Black Tower.
When she’d searched them online, they looked like they provided run-of-the-mill private security.
It was only the information Marshall had reluctantly shared that revealed that they were far more than another firm for hired muscle.
Everyone rose as the bride appeared in the doorway, backlit, glowing, radiant with joy. Norah felt her throat tighten for reasons that had nothing to do with the dress or the humidity.
She loved Marshall’s sister, Julie. She was thrilled for her.
But she hadn’t been prepared for the ache.
The officiant stepped forward. He was from their hometown church, a gentle, gray-bearded man who had baptized half the people Norah grew up with.
As the pastor began the opening message, his voice warm and low, Norah forced herself to listen.
His voice rolled over the crowd with the same calm authority she remembered from childhood.
“Love,” he said, “is not built on emotion, though it is full of emotion. It is not sustained by convenience, though it brings great joy. Love is demonstrated in sacrifice. In choosing the good of the other above yourself.”
Norah’s chest tightened.
The officiant continued, “Greater love has no one than this, that someone lay down his life for his friends.”
She could almost feel Marshall’s presence behind her.
Her eyes stayed fixed on the couple at the altar—but her mind drifted.
He would lay down his life for anyone. That’s who he was. That’s who he’d always been.
But she’d spent years wondering whether he’d ever lay it down for them—for the life they’d planned.
Or whether she’d just been another casualty of the mission.
She stared at the bride and groom as they exchanged private communion—a quiet moment between them, heads bowed, hands joined. Something in her throat went tight.
She’d imagined standing up there once. With Marshall, wearing a dress her mother would cry over. With a future stretched before them like the open fields behind the barn.
And now . . . she didn’t know what she imagined anymore.
Her mother sniffled loudly two rows up. Classic. Marshall’s parents sat across the aisle, his mother dabbing her eyes, his father’s hand resting steady on hers.
Norah’s heart ached. Not just for the past, but for the distance between where she was and where she wanted to be. For the questions she couldn’t answer. Could she ever trust him again? Could she ever trust anyone again?
And underneath it all . . . something even quieter stirred. During the vows, she felt it—an echo of something she hadn’t touched in years. A whisper of faith she’d long put on a shelf.
Love bears all things . . . believes all things . . . hopes all things . . . Never fails.
Her stomach twisted. She didn’t know if she believed that anymore. She wanted to. She wasn’t sure she knew how.
Was she really supposed to believe God still had anything to say about her life?
About love? About the man sitting behind her like a ghost of every prayer she once prayed?
The man she had loved since she was seventeen.
The man she’d told to leave. The man who’d left because she’d said the words—and who, she was certain, would make the same choice today.
She blinked hard, fixing her gaze on the ceremony.
The couple finished their private communion. And the groom whispered a prayer over his bride. Julie’s faith had only deepened since high school. She’d found a man who cherished her and cherished his walk with Jesus.
Norah’s chest constricted.
She wanted to look away.
She couldn’t.
The pastor’s voice returned, gentle and unwavering.
“A love like this only works when you are anchored in something greater than yourselves. A love that endures hardship, fear, loss, and distance. A love that is rooted in faith.”
Faith.
The word pricked like a needle.
Faith was something she’d once had—in God, in love, in the man sitting behind her.
Numbers made more sense. Numbers never betrayed you.
Marshall had betrayed her. Or she’d betrayed him. Or they’d both done their best with wounds and fear and timing that hadn’t been kind.
She swallowed the thought.
The ceremony ended in a burst of applause and laughter, the couple kissing beneath the arch as the string lights flared like stars. Norah stood with the crowd, clapping, smiling, feeling something warm press against her ribs. Something nostalgic. Something hopeful.
She wasn’t sure she trusted it. But it was there.
As everyone began drifting toward the reception barn, Marshall lingered a step behind her—close enough she felt him like a shadow, like a promise, like a mistake she might make twice.