Page 218 of His Reckoning

Then I find it near the end. It’s a quiet moment. No big drama. Just the heroine watching the hero when he doesn’t realize it.

My fingers still on the page as I read. This is it, the way she saw me. Not the version I’ve spent years controlling, but the real one.

My grip tightens slightly on the edge of the page. Now I understand something I didn’t before. She wasn’t exposing me. She was honoring me.

The thought settles deeper than I expected.

I lean back against the couch, staring at the page for a long moment.

I’m going to stand in front of a room full of people and read this out loud. The idea should feel insane.

It kind of does.

I don’t do public vulnerability—or any kind for that matter. I don’t stand in front of people and say things that matter. And yet?—

I look back down at the page, at the way she described him.

Strong. Disciplined. Someone who carried more than anyone realized.

I exhale quietly. If she could write that about me, then the least I can do is say it out loud, even if it terrifies me.

I close the book carefully and set it on the table. I run a hand through my hair. Now there’s nothing left to do but follow through.

My phone buzzes.

Melissa.

Melissa: When?

I glance at the book again and picture the stage I just walked through in my head.

Me: Tomorrow. 6 p.m.

Three dots appear almost instantly.

Melissa: You’d better not hurt her.

A small huff of air leaves my chest.

Me: I promise.

I set the phone down and lean back into the couch, staring up at the ceiling. I’m finally not thinking about what I lost, but about what I need to get back—and exactly how I’m going to do it.

* * *

By the time I step onto the stage, the room is already full. It’s not packed, but there are enough bodies in chairs and people standing near the back with books in their hands, curiosity written all over their faces.

A low hum of conversation fills the space, soft and expectant. They don’t know what they’re here for.

Just a surprise reading, a new release. Something different for a Thursday night.

My hand tightens slightly around the book as I step behind the podium.

The microphone is already set. The lights are warmer up here … brighter. There’s nowhere to hide.

Good.

I glance out over the room once, scanning.