Page 50 of Twisted Paths

I freeze, my fingers tightening slightly around my mug.

His eyes stay locked on mine, unreadable, unblinking. Certain.

“I think I’ve fallen for you.”

I swallow hard, my heart racing like I’ve just sprinted up a hill.

A thousand butterflies explode in my stomach.

He says it so simply, like it’s just a fact. Like he’s stating the weather.I think I’ve fallen for you.

I open my mouth, then close it again. Because what do you even say to that?

Before I can gather a single coherent thought, Luke exhales and leans back slightly, rubbing a hand over his jaw. “There’s something else,” he says.

His voice is different now. Hesitant.

I grip my mug a little tighter. “Okay…”

He shakes his head. “No. I need to show you.”

Before I can even process that, he takes my hand and pulls me up from my chair, leading me out of the kitchen and up the stairs.

His grip is firm but not hurried, like he’s decided something and now there’s no turning back.

I follow, my pulse thundering, my mind spinning through a thousand possibilities.

We stop outside a room, and he pushes the door open.

It’s an office. His office.

It’s what I’d imagined: bookshelves lined with more crime novels, legal texts, and hardback editions that I assume are his own. A large wooden desk, an expensive-looking chair, a coffee mug half-full and forgotten beside a stack of notebooks.

Luke strides to his desk, opening his laptop. I watch as he scrolls purposefully, his eyes flicking across the screen until he finds whatever it is he’s looking for.

Then, without a word, he turns the laptop towards me.

I step closer, my breath catching as I read.

Character Description: Reverend Nancy Ward

Reverend Nancy Ward carries herself with an effortless confidence, the kind that makes people instinctively trust her—or fear they can’t get away with anything. At 5’10, she stands taller than most, with an easy grace that makes her presence known without demanding it. Her long golden-blonde hair is usually pulled back into a loose ponytail or tucked behind her ears, though it never quite stays in place. Bright blue eyes (sharp, watchful) miss very little, and when she tilts her head in consideration, it usually means she’s already figured something out before the other person has finished their sentence.

She moves through the village with a natural ease, her coat swishing around her long legs as she strides over damp cobblestones, greeting shopkeepers and parishioners alike with a warm smile. People notice her, not just because she listens, but because she sees. Really sees.

Her features are striking and delicate with a natural warmth she carries. She’s a woman of presence, with a lean, toned frame, strong from years of walking the hills and dales that surround St Claire. Despite her height and elegance, she’s never intimidating, unless she wants to be.

Nancy is the kind of person who makes people feel comfortable, yet completely unable to get away with half-truths and nonsense. A habitual perfectionist, she furrows her brow when she’s deep in thought, and her lips twitch in amusement when someone tries and fails to charm their way out of a situation.

Her warmth is steady, unwavering, not the fragile kind that disappears when things get difficult, but the kind that soothes as easily as it scalds. She’s kind, but not naive. Thoughtful, but relentless. She asks too many questions. People tell her this often. She doesn’t stop. She isn’t the type to sit quietly on the sidelines, waiting for life to happen around her. She digs in, sleeves rolled, eyes sharp, determined to find the truth, whether she’s welcome to or not.

Nancy doesn’t go looking for trouble. But trouble finds her.

I stare at the words, my heart pounding.

“Is that me,” I whisper.

“Yeah. Until I met you, I had a terrible case of writer’s block and then, words were just flowing. I didn’t even realise I was writing about you until Philip pointed it out,” he says sheepishly, like he’s just confessed something far more scandalous than accidentally making me the lead in his new book.

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