“Become?”
They reached the next block, and the church’s silhouette rose in the distance—its tall, arched windows dusted in frost, its wooden doors looming under the weight of years.
Amayah exhaled shakily. “I’m in the process of buying it.”
“You’re . . . buying it? The old church?” Disbelief scraped Luke’s tone. “Since when do you want to own a building like that?”
She turned toward him then, cheeks flushed from the cold and the run, eyes bright with something unguarded.
“It’s not what you think, Luke.” Her breath caught. “I’m turning it into a soup kitchen. A community space. A place people can go when they’ve got nowhere else.”
His mind stuttered.
Asoup kitchen.
She kept going, words tumbling out now, the dam finally cracked.
“I’ve been trying to keep it quiet until everything’s set. It’s early—too early. I didn’t want to make promises before I could keep them.” Her voice thinned, but she forced it steady. “I didn’t start this influencer thing to make money or take shortcuts. I started it because people matter. And that place—” Her voicebroke just a little. “That place could become hope for people who don’t have any.”
Luke just stared at her.
Hard.
Because this didn’t fit Linda’s narrative.
But this fit exactly into Amayah’s character.
Suddenly, everything made sense. The real estate deal. The redecorating request. The whispered phone calls.
Warmth fought its way up his throat—part admiration, part guilt.
“Why didn’t you tell anyone?” he asked.
Her eyes flicked away as she continued forward. “I didn’t want to. Not until I was sure. There have been too many hoops to jump through. Too many reasons why this might fall through.”
Up ahead, the old church loomed larger—cracked stone, boarded side windows, snow-dusted steps leading to those massive wooden doors.
A faint light flickered inside.
Amayah’s breath hitched. “They’re here.”
Luke followed her gaze, pulse tightening.
Whatever was behind those doors . . . it was about to change everything.
They reached the bottom step.
Luke touched her arm gently. “Let’s go.”
Together, they stepped toward the entrance.
CHAPTER 33
The heavy doorgroaned as Amayah pushed it open, the cold winter air following them into the dim, cavernous space.
“Eli?” she called gently. “Clara? Benji?”
For a heartbeat, only silence answered.
