“Call him.” Deanna flopped onto the sofa across from Samantha.

They sat in her Malibu Canyon house and looked out the wall of glass. The sky was blue and crystal clear, but her mood was black. Not even chocolate made her smile. What seemed like a reasonable choice a few weeks ago was clouded with uncertainty now.

She’d done what she could for Aspen Cove and followed up on the recovery of Doc and Bobby. She’d even taken measures to build the town a firehouse so they could have their own truck. If they couldn’t afford to pay for firemen, she was prepared to cover that expense as well. No person should have to depend on volunteers to save their life.

Samantha thought she’d done the right thing by leaving, but her broken heart told her differently. She ached for Dalton. There wasn’t a second of any day where she didn’t think of him, feel the ghost of his love hold her, kiss her, and love her.

“I can’t call him. I left him. He probably hates me.” She’d recited the letter she’d written him over and over in her mind. “I’m a coward.”

“Why do you keep saying that?”

“Because I couldn’t face him. I left him a Dear John letter. Who does that? I write lyrics that every woman feels, but I couldn’t talk to the man I love. I should have told him face to face, but I knew … I knew he’d tell me to stay, and I knew I wouldn’t say no.”

“You need to fix this.” Deanna kicked her feet up on the coffee table.

“I have. Everyone is okay. Workers will start on Dalton’s house next week. He’ll show up, and it will be done. I’ve set up funds for the injured. Planned for the future. It’s fixed.”

“For being such a smart woman, you are so stupid.” Deanna turned her laptop toward Samantha. “Do you see this folder?” She pressed her computer across the space between them. “Over a hundred messages asking for you to call him. You think he wants to tell you he hates you? This isn’t fixed.”

“What was I supposed to do?” Her voice wavered. She thought she’d cried herself dry, but there seemed to be an endless supply of tears for Dalton.

“You were supposed to stay. You didn’t, so the next best thing is to go home and make it right.”

Samantha covered her face with her hands. “I don’t have a home.”

Deanna moved to the space beside her. “Home isn’t always a place. It can be a feeling. It can be as simple as knowing someone loves you, no matter what.” She pressed her finger against the computer screen. “Dalton Black is your home.”

Three days later, Samantha stood backstage while the crowd chanted, “In-di-go, In-di-go, In-di-go”. She couldn't believe that not too long ago a different crowd chanted the same. That night she’d walked into the mass of fans and disappeared, hoping to find clarity, only to come back more confused.

She adjusted the blue wig and applied her watermelon lip gloss. It reminded her of Dalton. Everything reminded her of Dalton. Since her return, all she ate was grilled cheese and tomato soup because it made her feel closer to him.

She gave Jake his exclusive interview, which was more about Dalton than about her. She asked him to send it to print the day before the concert. If people were going to talk about him, she wanted them to know the truth. Jake had found Bethany Waters and interviewed her as well. She told the world her story about the man who saved her life.

Samantha asked Jake to send a copy directly to Dalton because at the end of the interview when Jake asked her if she had any regrets, she told him yes. Her biggest regret was abusing herself. By leaving Dalton, she’d eviscerated her heart and soul. The longer she was separated from him, the more battered she felt. She’d given him her heart and left it behind. The last line of the story said, “I gave away my heart to the most deserving of men. I abandoned him in the most cowardly way. I only hope that he’ll forgive me and tell me to come home.”

Ray asked where home was for Samantha White, and she pressed her hand over her heart. The place where she’d tattooed his name. “Home is where Dalton is.”

“Indigo, you’re on in five,” Oliver Shepherd called from the door of her dressing room. They’d had several meetings concerning their future together. He’d released her from her last album, hoping to sign her for three more. He wasn’t the enemy. She’d been her own enemy. She’d allowed her fears to paralyze her. She’d allowed Dave to take over because it was easier. One thing she learned along the way was, easy wasn’t always best. Some things were worth fighting for.

Freedom.

Family.

The truth.

Her reputation.

Friendship.

Change.

Love.

Those were the things worth battling for. The hardest fight should always be for love.

Samantha looked down at her cast. In faded silver letters, she saw Dalton’s inscription. “It’s all about love.”

Yes, it is. She put on her headset and made her way to the side of the stage. Deanna stood by with a bottle of water.

“Everything you want is out there.”

Samantha gave her a weak smile. “Not everything.”

Deanna gave her a push. “Yes. Everything,” she said and winked.

The only thing Samantha wanted was a second chance. She put on her game face and rushed out to please the crowd. “Hello, Los Angeles!” Her voice didn’t reveal her brokenness. Dave had been right about one thing. The fans looked to her for hope and inspiration. She’d give it to them.

She looked into the crowd of thousands and wondered how many of them had ever felt a love as profound as she felt for Dalton. “I’m so happy to be here tonight.”

She looked at the signs people held that said, “I love you.”

“I love you, too, but I want to start off by saying that you have to love yourself first. Allow yourself to be loved. Many of you are the victims of abuse. Love doesn’t come easy, but open your hearts because love is worth it.”

She walked to the edge of the stage and shook a few hands. The band played one of the songs she wrote while in Aspen Cove. “This is a song I wrote for a very special man. I want Dalton Black to know that I love him. It’s called ‘One Hundred Wishes’. My wishes begin and end with him.” She took a deep breath. Saying his name made her heart race. “A woman told me that wishes cost nothing; that thoughts were important. Let’s hear everyone scream out a wish.” She held out her microphone while the crowd screamed their wishes.

Her headset crackled and hissed. She adjusted the volume, hoping the interference would disappear. She tapped on the earpiece, but it didn’t help. In a low voice she recognized, she heard, “My wish is for you to come home. Come home to me.” It played over and over and over until it was no longer in her headset but echoing through the stadium. The electronic displays flashed the words come home, come home, come home to me.

Confused, she turned to stage left where she’d left Deanna and found she was no longer there. She turned to stage right, which was also empty. The beat of the song got louder. Dalton’s voice was modulated to fill in the backbeat. She moved to center stage, confused. She lifted the microphone to sing. The crowd parted, and up the steps walked Dalton Black, dressed to kill. He was a man of simple tastes, but he made jeans and a black T-shirt look better than an Armani suit.

Samantha stopped dead still. She blinked several times to make sure he was there. The crowd went wild. Many held signs that read, “Dalton is my hero.” Her heart nearly seized.

“See … wishes do come true.” She threw herself into his arms. After he twirled her around and kissed her stupid, he set her down. “You’ve got a concert to perform.”

She looked into his blue eyes. How she ever thought they looked like cold steel, she didn’t know. They were filled with molten blue love. “Don’t leave me.”

He shook his head. “Never.”

“What happens next?” Afraid that he’d disappear, she didn’t want to let him go.

“I’m taking you home.”

“You’re here. I’m home already.”

For the next hour and fifty-two minutes, Samantha sang about love and hope, and she believed every word that came out of her mouth because clarity wasn’t always found in the messiness of life. It was found in the eyes of love.