“That doesn’t exactly make me feel better.”

“But it’s the truth, isn’t it? You found your something.” Nikola squeezed her shoulders. “Or maybe it’s someone.”

Yes, someone whose dedication to the farm and love for Maggie and his sisters had reeled her in until she’d lost her heart to him. Did she really think she could just walk away? Say goodbye to Neil and his thoughtful ways and his quiet faith, his complete and utter goodness?

But there was something too. The sense that she could’ve had a place here. A purpose. When she’d created that website for Neil, when she’d manned the market booth with Lilian, when she’d helped Maggie bake, and even when she’d caulked those windows . . . she’d felt like she belonged.

She lifted her hand to swipe at her tears.

“Listen, if you’re convinced coming back to Chicago and resuming life as normal is what God wants for you, then okay. But if He’s given you a new dream, then how could it be anything but good and noble to chase it?”

“How do I know it’s Him and not just me and my own silly heart?”

“Why couldn’t it be both?” Nikola dropped her arms. “Tell me this: Does staying here and starting a whole new life scare you a little? Because if so, that’s probably a good sign He’s behind it.”

Did it scare her? Yes. Yes, because there were so many ways it could go sideways. There was Maggie and her health to consider. And the girls—what would Indi and Lil say when they found out she wasn’t Cynthia Muir? And how could she just . . . just stay when she didn’t truly have a place?

Maybe she could stay with Tate for a while. But his father wasn’t her biggest fan just yet . . . his father, her grandfather. Oh goodness, that hadn’t even gelled in her mind yet. And though Tate said he wanted to get to know her, did that really mean he wanted her lingering in his life after disrupting it so suddenly?

And Neil. Good, kind, caring Neil. He’d come right out and asked her to stay but . . .

But what?

But what if I’ve built this up in my head to be more than it is? Just like when she’d gone looking for CarleeAnn.

That had led to so much hurt.

But it’d also led her to the photo, and the photo had led her to accepting Wilder Monroe’s theory, which had led her to Maine in the first place. From her place of deepest hurt, God had brought something amazing. Something she never could’ve expected.

He’d brought her here.

“But . . . Micah.”

“He’s going to be okay. I’ve already been talking to an uncle of mine—he’s a cop who’s dealt with this kind of thing before. Given the under-the-table shadiness of this whole thing, this Harmon guy might not have a leg to stand on as far as legally demanding repayment. But even if he does—”