Chapter 1

One

Cory

“Damn, I’m already spoiled.”

I pulled the cabin door shut, listening to the solid click of the lock echoing in the morning air. My hand lingered on the key for a second, feeling that strange reluctance tugging at me. This cabin wasn’t much—just a modest little place with a view of the lake, tucked far enough from town that I could breathe out here. But it already felt like a refuge.

Taking a deep breath, the crisp air ruffled my sandy hair, carrying a subtle hint of the nearby lake. Cedar Cove exuded a unique charm—serene, unassuming, populated by individuals who seemed to have mastered the art of living free from the burdens of city life in Dallas. Hell, I’d only owned my cabin for a few days, and I already felt less grumpy than I had in years.

And now I had to go back.

I shoved the key into my pocket, scowling. No matter how many billions I had or how much good I was doing as a philanthropist, it was still the same old song—meetings, strategy sessions, and board members nitpicking over details. Important work? Sure. But tedious as hell.

“If it weren’t for the damn board, I’d be out here for good,” I muttered, shaking my head.

I took one last look at the lake through the trees, then turned toward my SUV, still grumbling about the emails and calls waiting for me. It wasn’t that I didn’t believe in the work—few things in my life meant more than giving back, especially considering where I’d come from. But sometimes, I wished I could just disappear here in Cedar Cove, make the lake my world, and let everyone else figure out how to save the world without me.

Something stirred at the edge of my mind as I climbed into my unassuming vehicle. Maybe it was the morning light, the quiet of the town, or just the damn pull of the cabin itself, but I felt an odd kind of calm. It almost made me believe I could leave the past behind out here.

Not likely. I thought, chuckling to myself.

I reached for my sunglasses, caught a glimpse of my reflection in the rearview mirror, and frowned. My hair was longer than usual, a little too close to looking unkempt for my taste. Back in Dallas, I’d have taken care of this last week, but it almost seemed to fit out here.

Still, I figured a quick cut wouldn’t hurt. Besides, a few more hours in Cedar Cove sounded better than facing the traffic back home. I started the engine and pointed the SUV toward town, feeling the excuse roll around in my head like a damn good reason to delay getting back to the grind.

A few minutes later, I parked on Main Street, right in front of a cozy little salon called Reflections . Its painted sign swung gently in the morning breeze. It looked like the kind of place that was more concerned with friendly chatter and regulars than anything else.

Fine by me.

I pushed open the door and the bell jingled as I stepped inside. The place was bright and warm, with polished wood floors and the scent of lavender hanging in the air. Honestly, it didn’t have a bad vibe.

The receptionist looked up with a polite smile. “Good morning! Do you have an appointment?”

“Not exactly,” I said, glancing around. “Just hoping someone could fit me in.”

She scanned her screen and nodded. “You’re in luck. Ellie just had a cancellation, so she can take you right now. Go ahead and have a seat.”

I nodded and settled near the window, letting my gaze wander around the place. Cedar Cove had a laid-back feel that suited the town. It had this way of slowing everything down, of making you feel like you could actually breathe.

“Cory?” A soft voice pulled me out of my thoughts.

I looked up, and there she was—Ellie. The name didn’t ring any bells, but something about her face felt familiar—like a memory hovering just out of reach. She smiled, professional and warm, and motioned me over to her chair.

“This way,” she said, leading me to an empty space in the back.

I followed, feeling strangely out of place as I sat down. She draped the cape over me with smooth, practiced hands, moving with a confidence that said she knew exactly what she was doing.

“So, where are we going with this?” she asked, eyeing my hair with a slight grin.

“Just a trim. Nothing fancy.”

She chuckled, reaching for her scissors. “Got it. Have to say, though, you’ve got nice hair. Not many guys keep it in this good shape.”

I smirked. “Guess I don’t have much of a choice.”

As she combed through my hair, the quiet snip of scissors started up, a steady, rhythmic sound that was oddly calming. I leaned back a bit, letting myself settle in. I wasn’t usually one for small talk, but something about this place, about her, felt… easy. Comfortable, like I could let my guard down a little without anyone giving a damn.

“So,” she started, breaking the silence in a way that felt natural, “are you just passing through, or are we going to be seeing you around here more often?”

“I’m hoping to make it a regular thing,” I said, glancing up at her in the mirror. “Just bought a place on the lake. Figured I could use a spot to escape to when the city gets a little too much.”

She smiled, not looking the least bit surprised. “Dallas, right? It’s funny how many people come here for exactly that reason.”

“Yeah?” I raised an eyebrow. “Guess I’m not as original as I thought.”

Her laugh was soft and friendly. “There’s plenty of room for everyone. Cedar Cove might be small, but it’s got its hidden treasures.”

I gave a half-smile, nodding. “I could use a few of those right about now.”

She paused, studying me for a second, and I wondered if I’d said too much. But she just went back to cutting, her tone easygoing. “If you’re looking for quiet spots, there’s a trail just west of the lake. Not many people go out there, and the views are worth it. You can see the whole valley from the top.”

“Sounds perfect,” I replied. “Can’t say I’ve done much exploring around here.”

The scissors kept snipping, and I let the tension slip away bit by bit. She finished trimming the top, moving around to the sides with a focused look. “What kind of work do you do?”

“Philanthropy,” I said, the word feeling both foreign and familiar in my mouth. “Big-city stuff. Keeps me busy, even when I’d rather it didn’t.”

She gave a knowing nod, her hands steady as she worked. “Bet the view from your office isn’t quite like the one you’ve got here.”

I let out a small laugh. “Not even close. This is… different.”

“Different can be good,” she replied, giving me a smile in the mirror. “Sometimes we need a change to remind us of what matters.”

Her words settled over me, and I couldn’t help but wonder how much she knew about my life. Of course, she didn’t know anything—I guessed this was just how people talked here. Open, honest, none of that guarded politeness you got in the city.

“You’ve been here a while?” I asked, trying to turn the conversation back to her.

She nodded. “Moved here about ten years ago. I wanted something small, a place to settle down. It’s been good for me. People here are friendly, and it’s nice to know your neighbors.”

“Sounds like you found your place,” I murmured, noticing she wasn’t wearing a wedding ring. Yet she seemed genuinely happy and settled. I couldn’t remember feeling that way in a long time, maybe ever.

She gave me a curious glance, pausing mid-cut. “You sound like you’re still looking.”

“Maybe,” I admitted, surprising myself. “Guess I didn’t realize I was until I ended up here.”

Her smile was understanding, like she knew exactly what I meant without me having to spell it out. As she moved around me, I couldn’t help but notice the way her auburn hair caught the light, soft waves falling over her shoulders, framing her green eyes with a warmth that felt both familiar and unsettling. Her blouse clung just enough to hint at her curves, a glimpse of black lace peeking through the sheer fabric. I found myself looking a little too long, and when I finally met her gaze in the mirror, I caught a spark in her eyes—like she’d noticed me, too.

She stepped back, giving my hair one last look, and I felt something unexpected—a flicker of regret that the conversation and the haircut were almost over.

As she tidied up my hairline, my gaze drifted around her station, capturing the essence of her workspace—the array of professional tools meticulously arranged, a well-loved coffee cup with a faded floral pattern, a small potted plant thriving under the soft glow of a desk lamp, and a framed photograph delicately placed beside the mirror. It was a boy, probably around ten, grinning wide in a little league uniform, baseball cap slightly askew. The kid had that look—the one only kids with endless energy and a dash of trouble in them managed to pull off.

Something about him struck me and made me pause. Sandy hair, a touch of mischief in his eyes… There was a familiarity there, like looking at an old memory that didn’t quite fit in. I couldn’t shake the feeling, though I brushed it off as a coincidence. A lot of kids look alike, right? Still, the thought lingered in the back of my mind.

Ellie noticed me looking and smiled, her face softening as she glanced at the photo.

“My son,” she said, pride and warmth in her voice. “He’s ten. Full of energy and always on the go.”

I nodded, feeling a strange pang in my chest that I couldn’t quite name. “Looks like he keeps you busy.”

“Busy doesn’t even begin to cover it,” she laughed. “But it’s a good kind of busy. Keeps me grounded.”

Her words hung between us, and I felt something twist inside me—a mix of admiration and something harder to pin down. She wasn’t just another stylist in another small-town salon. She was someone who seemed to have her life set, a sense of purpose that felt… solid.

I glanced back at the kid in the photo, that unsettling sense of familiarity nudging at me again, but I brushed it off. Just my mind playing tricks. After all, it’d been years since I’d thought about settling down, let alone with a kid.

I forced myself to look away, back up at her in the mirror, watching as she removed the cape.

Just as I was reaching for my wallet to pay, Ellie’s phone rang, cutting through the quiet hum of the salon. She glanced at the screen, and her face instantly tightened, the ease from moments before evaporating. She held up a finger, a quick “just a sec” before answering.

“Hello?” Her tone shifted, filled with that edge of a mother’s worry. I didn’t mean to listen in, but she didn’t exactly have anywhere private to go.

“What?” She stiffened, the color draining from her face. “He’s where? At the ER? How bad is it?”

My stomach dropped. ER? I didn’t know her, not really, but something about the fear in her voice hit me hard. She was standing just a few feet away, but she may as well have been in another world, gripped by panic.

She listened for a little while longer—eyes darting around the room like she was already halfway out the door. “I’ll be there as fast as I can. Yes, I understand. Thank you.”

Ellie hung up, fingers trembling as she shoved her phone back in her pocket. Her usual calm was gone, replaced with an urgency that left no room for anything else. I could tell she was barely holding it together.

“Is everything okay?” I asked, not sure if it was my place, but I just couldn’t seem to stay quiet, either.

She nodded quickly, a forced motion. “It’s… my son. He got hurt at school, and they took him to the ER just to be safe.”

Without another word, she turned to gather her things, every movement brisk and efficient, but there was no hiding the worry shadowing her face. I felt something stir deep in my gut, an urge to help, to do something. I barely knew her, but damn it, that didn’t seem to matter right now.

As she rushed out after explaining to her coworkers what had happened to her son to her coworkers, I noticed the curve of her back and how her body moved with a kind of grace that felt strangely familiar. There was something about the sway of her hips as she walked, the way her shoulders held a quiet strength even in the face of worry.

It hit me with another flicker of déjà vu, that feeling like I knew her… but that didn’t make any sense. I didn’t know any woman named Ellie. I brushed it off again, telling myself it was just my mind playing tricks.

She glanced back at me for a split second, just enough for our eyes to meet, her vulnerability stark and raw. And then, just like that, she was out the door, disappearing into the daylight outside.

I stood there, rooted to the spot, staring at the empty space she’d left behind. The sound of the door closing still echoed in the silence, and the usual salon chatter seemed to fade, leaving an odd quiet around me.

What the hell was that?

I’d just come in for a haircut. No ties, no complications, nothing more. Cedar Cove was supposed to be an escape, a break from everything and everyone. And yet here I was, feeling a pull I hadn’t felt in years, the kind that made me want to step in, help, maybe even stick around a little longer.

Reaching into my pocket, I casually tossed my credit card toward the receptionist and waited for a beat, my thoughts consumed me. As I stepped outside, the sun was bright—almost too bright—and the warmth did little to settle the gnawing feeling in my chest.

I was supposed to head back to Dallas, back to the grind. But as I got into my SUV, an unwelcome but persistent thought crept in.

This town was supposed to be my escape, not a walk down memory lane.