“So what’s the problem?” Harry shrugged. “Sounds like nice girl meets emotionally constipated journalist.”
Luke glanced away, ignoring the jab—and resisting the urge to scowl. “Linda wants me to expose her. Tear apart her platform. Prove she’s fake.”
Harry’s eyebrows shot up. “And you don’t believe that’s true.”
“No.” His throat ached as he said the word. “Before today, I thought it might be true. After tonight? I don’t even know what this feeling is, but it’s not professional.”
Harry studied him a moment. “Then don’t hurt her.”
“It’s not that simple.” Luke paced the small kitchen. “If I don’t deliver this article, I could lose my job. This piece is supposed to put me on the map.”
Harry set his mug down. “Since when did you care about being on the map?”
Luke stilled, jaw tightening. “Since this story promised to be one of the few things that might impress my father.”
He hated to say the words aloud, but they were true. Though it defied his logic, Luke knew that after he’d learned about his birth mother rejecting him, proving himself had suddenly felt like the most important thing he could do.
Harry softened slightly. “And what about this girl? What happens if she gets hurt in the process?”
Silence filled the kitchen until Luke finally said, “That’s the problem.”
“So what are you going to do?”
He let out a slow breath. “I don’t know. But I can’t be the one who destroys her. She’s trying to live her faith instead of selling it. That shouldn’t make someone a target.”
Harry crossed his arms. “Then tell her the truth.”
Luke rubbed the back of his neck. “I probably should. The problem is . . . despite all of that, I sense that she’s hiding something. It could be the evidence we need that proves she isn’t as saintly as she seems.”
Harry nodded once, his voice gentler now. “Then don’t walk through the wrong door.”
Luke looked up sharply.
“Yeah,” Harry added with a small grin. “I watch her clips too. Don’t judge.”
Luke almost laughed—then sobered again. “I’m not sure how to protect her without burning down my own life.”
Harry shrugged. “Sometimes that’s how you find out what’s actually worth saving.”
Luke didn’t answer.
But the question lingered long after the kitchen light went dim.
CHAPTER 15
The next morning,frost clung to the edges of Amayah’s windows when she stepped into the living room. Not the picture window at the front of the house, of course. That was still covered in plywood.
She peered outside just in time to see Luke’s car pull to the curb. He’d texted that he’d be there at eight, and he was prompt.
When he got out of the car, something immediately struck her about his posture. His shoulders were straighter, his expression more guarded. He wore a faint, polite smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. Gone was the easy warmth from the night before—the one that had made the whole world feel gentler for a few hours.
Her heartbeat flickered.Did something happen? Did I do something?
Flashbacks of Isaac hit her. He’d always been moody—punishing her with the cold shoulder if she did something he didn’t approve of.
Was Luke the same?
She shoved away those thoughts as she opened the door. Not every man was like Isaac.
