Chapter 1

Jenna

The final bell rings, signaling the end of another chaotic day wrangling my kindergarten class of rambunctious five-year-olds. I sink into my chair with an exhausted sigh as the last of the little ones scampers out, their high-pitched giggles fading down the hallway.

"I swear, they have more energy than the Energizer bunny," Sarah chuckles, collapsing into the tiny chair next to me. Her curly blonde locks tumble haphazardly around her face, a few loose strands sticking to the sheen of perspiration on her brow. We share a commiserating look, the weariness in each other's eyes betraying the toll of another demanding day teaching the youths of Whispering Pines Elementary.

Despite our mutual fatigue, we dissolve into a fit of laughter, the kind that comes from bonding over the shared insanity that is teaching. Sarah's been my good friend since we started here three years ago, her level-headed presence a grounding force amidst the daily chaos.

"So, any big plans for your Friday night freedom? Is Hannah coming over?" she asks once our giggling subsides, idly straightening the disheveled classroom.

I shake my head, thinking about my best friend. "Not this week. Tonight, it's just me, a bottle of merlot, and a cheesy rom-com on the couch. Heaven."

She snorts. "Sounds like my kind of party." A wistful smile tugs at her lips. "No romantic entanglements to complicate our lives, just the way we like it."

A pang of wistfulness echoes within me at her words. As much as Sarah and I joke about being perpetually single by choice, a part of me longs for the kind of deep connection and stability that seems so elusive. My parents' tumultuous marriage and tragic death loom like a specter, the root of my fear of intense romantic bonds and instability.

"You know, as fun as our pity parties are, maybe we should get back out there," Sarah muses, oblivious to my melancholic reverie. "It's been, what? Two years since either of us has been on a real date?"

My breath catches at the reminder of how long it's been since I've let anyone get truly close. The memories of mom and dad's constant fights, culminating in that fateful night when the call came about their car accident, still haunt me. Swallowing hard, I force a reassuring smile. "It's been a while. You know how it is—just focused on my career."

But Sarah knows me too well to be fooled by my nonchalance. Her expression softens, understanding flickering in those compassionate blue depths. "Jen, you can't let your fear hold you back forever. I know it's hard to lose someone you love, but you have to take a chance sometime."

I stiffen, the words striking a tender nerve. "I know that." I offer her a rueful smile, my voice dropping to a quieter murmur. "But for now, maybe it's better to just appreciate what I have—my job, my wonderful friends, a cozy home to call my own."

Sarah regards me with a mixture of sympathy and exasperation, reaching out to give my hand a gentle squeeze. "One day, you'll find someone who makes you want to take that leap, Jen. And when you do, I'll be right there to kick your stubborn behind if you let your fears hold you back."

I manage a soft laugh at her playful threat, my heart swelling with gratitude for her unwavering friendship. Perhaps she's right—perhaps one day, the idea of taking that risk won't seem quite so daunting.

But not today.

After bidding Sarah goodbye, I make my way home, eager to slip into the comforting embrace of my cozy home. As I drive around the corner onto my street, the first tendril of smoke assaults my senses, carrying the acrid scent of charred wood and extinguished dreams.

Smoke. Thick, billowing plumes of it snake into the twilight sky from...oh god.

Dread coils in my stomach as I park my car, my heart pounding a staccato rhythm against my ribcage. Please, no. Not my home, the one sanctuary that's been mine since...

The sight that greets me is a waking nightmare. Flames lick hungrily at the windows and roof of my cozy three-bedroom bungalow, the structure that had once been my parents' house now little more than a smoldering husk. Firefighters battle the blaze with hoses, their figures haloed by the hellish orange glow.

I stumble out of my car, dimly aware of the curious crowd of neighbors watching in mute horror. This can't be happening. Not again, not when I thought I'd finally found some stability...

My legs buckle beneath me, and I sink onto the sidewalk, the world tilting violently around me. Distantly, I'm aware of the wail of sirens, but it does little to pierce the fog of shock and despair enveloping me.

With the acrid scent of burning wood thick in the air, my senses are overwhelmed. The sight of the firefighters battling the inferno numbs my mind further, but I force myself to approach one of the officers overseeing the scene. His grim face softens when he notices my distress, recognizing the look of a person whose world has just turned to ashes.

"Ma'am, is this your residence?" His voice is firm but gentle, an anchor in the swirling chaos.

I nod, trying to find my voice. "Y-yes, it's my home."

He lets out a measured sigh, consulting his clipboard. "I'm very sorry for your loss. Right now, it's important to stay at a safe distance. Is there anyone you can call for support or shelter?"

My heart is awash with anxiety. The closest person I can think of is Hannah. "I... I can call my friend."

"Good. Make that call. Meanwhile, once the scene is secure, we'll have the Red Cross come out to assist with immediate needs. Do you have any identification or essentials in your car?" he asks, his eyes flicking sympathetically over my distressed frame.

I shake my head, the reality of my loss settling in. "Everything was in the house..."

His expression softens even more. "We'll do everything we can to help you through this. Right now, focus on getting somewhere safe."

With trembling fingers, I fumble for my phone, my thumb instinctively finding Hannah's contact. She answers on the second ring, her warm voice a lifeline in the midst of my spiraling panic.

"Jenna? Is everything okay?"

The words tumble from my lips in a breathless rush. "Han, it's my house—there's a fire. Everything..." I trail off, choking back the swell of despair that threatens to overwhelm me.

There's a sharp inhalation on the other end, and I can picture the concern etching her delicate features. "Jenna, breathe. I'm coming to get you, okay? Just hold on."

I nod numbly, not bothering to remind her that she can't actually see me. Somehow, I know she'll make it right, that her presence alone will be enough to anchor me. Like she always does.

True to her word, Hannah's sleek sedan pulls up within minutes, the familiar purr of its engine like a beacon in my unraveling world. She emerges in a whirlwind of sandy curls and worried energy, her green eyes wide as they find me huddled on the sidewalk.

In an instant, she's by my side, wrapping me in the kind of fierce, protective embrace only a lifelong friend can provide. I cling to her, burying my face in the crook of her neck as the first ragged sobs tear from my chest.

"It's okay, I've got you," she murmurs, her voice a soothing lullaby amidst the chaos. "Let it out, Jen."

And I do. I release the torrent of grief and fear, letting the salty tears scald my cheeks as I mourn not just the loss of the physical dwelling, but the fragile sense of home and safety it represented.

When the worst of the anguished sobs finally subside, Hannah gently pries me from her shoulder.

"You're coming home with me," she states, her tone brooking no argument. "We'll get you settled in at Thorne Estate until we can figure this out."

A fleeting tendril of panic winds through me at her words. The Thorne Estate...her family home, the heart of the Whispering Pines pack's territory. A place where I, a human, have only been peripherally welcomed due to my bond with Hannah.

"I can't impose like that," I protest weakly, my throat raw from crying.

Hannah's expression softens infinitesimally as she regards me with those too-perceptive emerald eyes. "Jenna. You're my best friend, my family. Where else would you go?"

Of course, she's right. I have nowhere else, no one else to turn to in the wake of this fresh upheaval. Exhaustion settles over me like a leaden cloak as I give a minute nod of acquiescence.

"There's my girl," Hannah murmurs approvingly, brushing a few stray strands of hair from my face in a tender gesture. "Besides, you know we're basically the same size. You can borrow my clothes for now."

A wan chuckle escapes me at the familiar refrain. How many times had we traded garments over the years, our petite frames rendering us nearly indistinguishable from behind? It's a comforting reminder that despite the cataclysmic shift my life seems poised to take yet again, some things remain constant.

"Okay," I whisper, letting her help me to my feet. "Lead the way."

The drive to Thorne Estate is a blur, Hannah's soothing voice and the purr of the engine lulling me into a trance-like state. Before I know it, her car is gliding up the long, winding drive.

As the grand, rustic mansion looms before us, I can't help but feel a pang of unease. This place—this world—is so far removed from the simple life I've known. But with nowhere else to turn, I have no choice but to accept Hannah's kindness and the refuge her family offers.

As if sensing my trepidation, Hannah reaches over to give my hand a reassuring squeeze as she kills the engine. "Don't worry, Jen. We'll get you settled in no problem."

She ushers me inside, her arm looped through mine in a gesture of solidarity. The interior is breathtaking—soaring vaulted ceilings, rough-hewn wooden beams, and stone accents that give the space a warm, rustic ambiance. Despite its grand scale, the atmosphere manages to feel oddly intimate and cozy.

"Come on, let's get you settled in," Hannah says, leading me up a winding staircase to a spacious guest suite.

The room is a haven of tranquility, with plush rugs and rich fabrics in soothing earth tones. A private bathroom adjoins the bedroom, complete with a luxurious clawfoot tub that beckons me to sink into its depths and let the world fade away.

"Thank you," I whisper, my voice hoarse from the onslaught of tears.

Hannah's gaze softens, and she cups my cheek with a tenderness that speaks volumes. "You're family, Jenna. This is where you belong, at least for now. Go ahead and get cleaned up, and I'll leave some fresh clothes for you. Why don't you take a nice, hot bath and try to relax? Dinner will be ready in a couple of hours."

I nod, my throat constricting with gratitude. Words seem inadequate to convey the depth of my appreciation for this woman—my dearest friend, my lifeline in the storm.

Hannah pauses at the door, a gentle smile playing on her lips. "Oh, and you'll finally get to meet my brother tonight. I know you two will hit it off."