Chapter 7
Amayah blinked once. Then again.
The man had disappeared between two houses like he’d never been there.
Maybe she’d been seeing things. Maybe the man had simply been a trick of light. Her imagination. Residual fear clinging too tightly to memory.
“Amayah?” Luke’s voice sounded quiet beside her.
She turned toward him and forced the tension from her tone. “Sorry. I thought I saw someone. It was nothing . . . probably.”
He didn’t look convinced as his gaze deliberately swept the street before settling back on her. “You talking about the man who was across the street? Did you know him?”
She drew in a quick breath. Luke had seen him also. “No, no. He just . . . he looked familiar.”
His eyes narrowed as if unconvinced. “You sure you’re okay?”
“Yes.” She managed a small smile. “Just nerves.”
Instead of resuming his casual stride, Luke shifted—just enough that he walked slightly closer now, his shoulder nearly brushing hers.
His proximity didn’t make her tense. It made her feel . . . safer.
“People at The Home Show channel are going to love this,” Miranda said behind her.
Amayah ignored her.
She wouldn’t be pressured into doing anything she didn’t want to. She promised herself that.
She already had things going on here in Minnesota that she wanted to accomplish. She couldn’t lose her focus.
As they resumed their walk, Amayah couldn’t help but feel that something had shifted between her and Luke—something that blurred the lines between professional and personal.
The thought sent a shot of terror through her.
She was better off doing things solo. The past had proven that to her.
But these feelings . . . they were so . . . so unexpected. They’d come on so quickly.
She really needed to get back to the subject at hand.
Before she could, someone came running up to her, and she froze.
Luke edged himself in front of her, automatically shifting into protective mode as she prepared herself for trouble.
For a split second, Luke braced himself for possible danger.
The earlier shadowed man still clung to the edges of his mind, unwelcome and insistent. He’d briefly glimpsed the man. The guy hadn’t appeared dangerous—only like another bystander.
His presence had clearly shaken up Amayah. She hadn’t seemed willing to admit anything, and Luke didn’t push. But he was curious, especially considering how frightened she’d looked.
However, the figure that appeared in front of them wasn’t the man from earlier.
It was a young woman—maybe twenty-two at most—breathless, cheeks flushed pink from the cold, a knit hat slipping sideways over her dark curls.
“Oh my gosh,” she cried, skidding to a stop. “Oh my gosh, it is you!”
Amayah’s posture eased the tiniest bit, but Luke still saw the guardedness lingering in her eyes.
The young woman clasped her hands under her chin. “I’m sorry—I didn’t mean to scare you. I just—” Her voice cracked into a squeal. “I’m your biggest fan!”
A small laugh escaped Amayah, polite but still edged with adrenaline. “Thank you. That’s very kind.”
“No, you don’t understand.” The woman stepped closer, eyes wide with devotion. “Your videos . . . the ones about courage and stepping into the life you’re meant to live? They changed everything for me.”
Amayah’s expression softened, genuine warmth replacing her earlier fear. “I’m glad they helped you.”
“They didn’t just help me,” the woman insisted, clutching her tote bag tighter.
“They saved me. I was stuck at this awful job—like, soul-crushing, toxic—and when you said we were made for purpose and not performance . . . that God doesn’t waste our steps .
. . well, those words really hit me, and I quit.
Last week. I’m finally chasing my dreams, just like you did. ”
She beamed, radiant and expectant.
And Amayah froze.
It was subtle—just a small, tight inhale—but Luke felt it like a crack in the air.
His own stomach pulled taut.
Because he’d heard this before.
Seen it.
Lived through the consequences.
Hannah had said almost those exact words.
A knot formed at the base of his throat. How would Amayah handle this? Would she encourage the woman’s decisions? Make a show of it for the camera?
Amayah found her voice and gently said, “That’s . . . a big decision.”
The young woman nodded a little too eagerly. “I know! But when you said we should walk through the doors God opens? I felt like He was opening one for me.”
Amayah’s smile trembled—kind but weighted. “Have you . . . made a plan for what’s next?”
“Oh, definitely. Mostly. But I’m trusting the process.”
A cold thread snaked down Luke’s spine.
Trusting the process had been Hannah’s mantra too—right up until trust had led her to death’s doorstep.
Amayah placed a hand on the woman’s arm. “You are valuable beyond what you do. But please take care of yourself, okay? Doors are meant to be walked through with wisdom.”
The woman nodded, still starstruck. “I will. Thank you. This is the best day of my life.”
She snapped a quick photo, waved, and jogged away toward the next block.
The moment she disappeared around the corner, Amayah let out a shaky breath.
Luke did too.
Their eyes met for just a moment—hers uneasy, his troubled—and Luke felt the echo of Hannah’s ghost settle hard in his chest.
That girl adores you, he wanted to say.
She’ll follow you anywhere.
And one wrong step could destroy her.
But instead, he just said quietly, “You okay?”
Amayah nodded, though he didn’t believe her.