Page 51 of The Christmas Door

He didn’t move.

Amayah’s face surfaced in his mind again—the way she’d crouched beside Maisie. The quiet strength in the way she’d seen the beauty she created destroyed, yet she still offered grace. The warmth—and exhilaration—of her kiss.

Exhaustion settled deeper in his bones.

He missed Amayah already.

Missed the way her kitchen smelled. The way she spoke to the children as if they mattered. The way her eyes searched for hope even when fear crept close.

He wanted to reassure her that what had happened with her former boyfriend wasn’t her fault. Tell her that she couldn’t save the world—even if he knew she wouldn’t listen.

His thoughts shifted to dinner and the kids they’d shared it with.

Something was wrong at the Crump house.

He could feel it.

And whether or not Amayah wanted him to, he decided one thing with solid clarity: While he investigated the story he’d been assigned, he’d also look into the Crumps.

Because they deserved to have someone paying attention to them.

CHAPTER 25

The next morning,Amayah watched from her front window as the Crump kids trudged down the sidewalk in a loose line, backpacks bouncing, breath puffing white in the frigid air as they headed to the bus stop.

When she saw the bus pick up the kids and then pull away, her gaze shifted to the house next door.

The Crumps’ house.

A quiet weight settled in her chest.

Don’t let them make us go away.

Clara’s words refused to loosen their grip.

Before she could change her mind, Amayah crossed the narrow stretch of yard and stopped on the small, decaying porch stretching in front of the Crumps’ door.

The boards sagged beneath her weight, softened by years of rain and snow. A mismatched pair of boots sat abandoned near a ratty welcome mat, and the railings leaned inward as if tired of standing. The curtains behind the front window hung unevenly, one side pinned up with a clothespin.

She knocked.

She needed to have a one-on-one conversation with Ms. Crump. This was the most responsible thing she could do. It was the first step, at least.

Nothing.

She knocked again, louder this time.

Still nothing.

Her hand hovered over the knob.

It turned.

Unlocked.

A cold thread of unease slid down her spine as she pushed the door open just a few inches.

“Hello?” Amayah called.