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“We’re a team. We help each other out,” Verity says gently.

Delilah drops her hands and grins. “More than that—we’re sisters.”

I’m still trying to wrap my head around how easily they’ve welcomed me when all three—Adena, Verity, and Delilah—suddenly leap to their feet, popcorn flying as party poppers explode in a burst of color.

“Welcome to Hightower, Samantha!” they shout together.

Mick

As I jump out of my truck, my feet hit the gravel, and I skid slightly in my haste to make up the time I’ve lost. I peer into the distance, squinting as the sun hits the lake surrounding the cemetery. Picking up my pace, I check the time. I’m five minutes late. Not off to a good start.

I can’t mess this up. Not when there is so much at stake.

With every step, I start to pray for guidance and for the right words that will get me the desired result. I don’t think I’ve ever spent so much time with my nose buried in my Bible as I have done these past few weeks. I’ve barely slept, nerves keeping me awake, until I gave up pretending that there was anything I could do.

My ego isn’t big enough to try to take on the entire defense force. All I have is Caleb’s and Silas’s word that they are going to do everything in their power, to do whatever it takes. That, and relinquishing the idea I had any control to begin with, has allowed me to wait on the verdict and the answer that will send me in the direction God chooses.

Everything hinges on today’s result, but strangely there’s only one result that’s dominating my mind.

My phone chirps in my pocket, and I yank it out. I pause, adjusting my sunglasses as I prepare for the worst news, then quickly read the message as I crest the small hill. When my eyes snag on three little words—“Non-Judicial Punishment”—I look up and send my praise skyward.

At least I won’t have to havethatconversation with my parents.

It gives me even more hope that I didn’t make a mistake trusting Hightower. They might be unconventional, but whatever Silas Hightower and his father, Justus, did has saved my career. I tap out a message, thanking the bearer of good news, switch the phone to mute, and continue my trek toward the lakefront.

One down. One to go.

The sun beats down on me, making me wish I’d changed into something less formal than a suit and tie, but a promise is a promise, and if there is one promise I’m going to keep, it’s to do this right. I adjust my tie, scan the waterfront, and know we made the right call when I spot the figure standing at the water’s edge.

A smile curls at my lips as I take in the flowing ankle-length dress she’s chosen to wear for the occasion. Her hair is shorter and darker, and at her feet is a simple plaque with her name and the day she was born and the day she would have died.

As I step up to her and take in the words carved there, my heart squeezes in my chest. This could have been for real. Instead, the media is reporting on Samantha’s innocence, branding her a mysterious heroine, and Mona’s corpse has been buried in Samantha’s stead.

“Sorry I’m late,” I say.

Samantha turns, smiles, and pushes her sunglasses atop her head, a wisp of hair falling into her eyes. If possible, the haircut makes her look even more desirable.

I slip my fingers into hers and draw her closer, relishing the scent of her perfume. After a month apart, I don’t know which question to ask her first. I settle on one. “How are things at Hightower?”

She looks down, taking her time to answer. “It’s been intense… They work hard. Train hard. But it feelsgood.”

I glance down at the plaque. “Glad you’re making friends.”

She smiles and lifts her head so the sunlight catches flecks of auburn in her hair. “I thought I’d feel trapped. But I feel… free.”

Good to get confirmation. Silas said she was doing well and was spending every moment she could learning more about Christ and how she can best serve Him.

Stealing my chance, I slip my hand into my pocket.

My friends are going to say I’m nuts, and I’m going to be the butt of endless jokes when they learn Samantha is the woman I was chasing, but I’m way past the point of caring whatpeoplesay or think about me.

It’s about restoring honor and placing the glory where it belongs.

I release her hand so I can open the velvet box, my stomach twisting in knots as I gauge the reaction on her face.

She freezes. Her lips part, and she swallows hard. Her eyes go wide, breath hitching, like she’s not sure what she’s seeing. A flicker of panic crosses her face as I offer her my heart to go with the princess-cut diamond on a platinum band.

“Will you marry me?” I say.