Was that why she’d made the sudden decision to host Thanksgiving, too? He wanted to ask—that and so many other questions. Like what it was she’d remembered last night and whether she planned to keep looking for Cynthia. Or did she even know yet about Sydney? Lilian had said Maggie was still asleep when Sydney stopped by, so for all he knew—

“Neil Ian Muir, how can you look so worried after we’ve just shared such a meaningful moment?”

Neil Ian Muir. His heart thumped against his chest. “It’s just . . . Sydney . . .”

“I know.”

“You know . . . what exactly?”

“Enough. I was in a fog but I heard . . . I know she’s not who we’d hoped. But she’s still who we loved.”

Who they loved. Yes, there was no other word for it. “So I guess you’re not going to sell the land to Tatum Carter?” That was another thing he wanted to ask her—what Tate had meant when he’d said Maggie and his father had a past. But that could wait, as could all his other questions.

“Not your smoothest attempt ever at changing the topic.” Maggie sank farther into her pillows, her eyes closing, a peaceful smile on her face.

Someday they’d unravel the mystery of Diana’s accident. Perhaps they’d find the real Cynthia Muir. Someday he’d put the pieces of Maggie’s past together and have a deeper understanding of the woman who’d changed his life before ever changing his name.

But for today, for right now, this healing moment with Maggie was enough.

Sydney slid from Tate’s passenger seat and thanked him for the ride—again. At his nod, she closed the door and turned, squinting against the late-morning sunlight glinting off the metallic sign in front of Muir Harbor’s police station.

What in the world was she supposed to say to Micah when she walked through those glass doors? This wasn’t like the other times. This hadn’t been a bar brawl or a fender bender or some minor instance of being with the wrong people in the wrong place at the wrong time.

He’d broken into Maggie’s house through the back door with the intention of robbing her. Might’ve been fear and desperation pushing him into it, but they weren’t excuses. And even if he somehow got out of this with nothing more than a night in jail as punishment, how would things ever return to normal once they were home?

Home. The word had taken on an edge and it scared her to think of how long it may take to sand it away once she was back in the Midwest.

Inside, she stopped at the front desk and gave her name, waited as the woman behind the counter disappeared for a few moments. She returned soon. “He’s already on his way up. Someone else came to see him and they just finished the paperwork for his release.”