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.
CHAPTER 8
“We got that all on camera!”Miranda called from behind the crew. “It’s gold. Someone see if we can get a release form from that woman before she’s gone!”
A crew member scrambled after the woman.
Amayah winced as she watched everything play out. “I don’t know that we should use that footage.”
Miranda hustled closer, headset bouncing around her neck. “Are you kidding? It was authentic. Heartfelt. Peoplelovethat stuff.”
“Maybe too much,” Amayah murmured.
Miranda blinked. “What do you mean?”
Amayah’s gaze drifted down the street where the young woman had disappeared. “She said she quit her job because of something I said.” Her voice tightened. “That’s not . . . I don’t want people tearing their lives apart because they misunderstood a thirty-second clip. Not every open door is meant to be walked through.”
Miranda softened just a fraction. “You can’t control what people do with your content.”
“But I can control whether I amplify moments like that.” She exhaled, cold air stinging her lungs.God, what if I saysomething careless? What if someone takes it wrong? What if I hurt someone without meaning to?
Her fear was real: People thinking she had answers she didn’t. People following her when she barely trusted herself.
“I just . . .” She shook her head and forced a fragile smile. “Let’s talk about something else.”
Miranda searched her face but didn’t push. “Fine. We’ll revisit this later.”
Amayah turned toward the nearest house, grateful for the out.
“You see that door?” She pointed to a pine-and-cranberry wreath woven with frosted berries. “Excellent use of natural elements. I love a foraged vibe. But I’m deducting points for the blow-up Santa in the yard.”
Luke huffed a quiet laugh. “Harsh but fair.”
She glanced at him, warmth flickering behind her eyes. She was grateful for his steady presence after the exuberant fan encounter. More than anything right now, she wanted to know about him.
“So what about you, Luke Cross?” She slowed her steps.
He angled toward her. “What about me?”
“Is being a journalist everything you expected it to be?”
