Chapter 2

2

Chloe

The steering wheel shook under my hands, a constant reminder that the old silver sedan was hanging on to its last breaths. I squinted against the glare of the morning sun, the road to Sunshine Acres unfurling like a promise in front of me. I could practically hear my brother’s voice, “Chlo, you sure that thing will make it another mile?” But here we were, defying odds and low expectations.

“Come on, Betsy,” I muttered to the car, patting the dashboard as if encouragement could bolster the engine. A chuckle escaped my lips, a rare sound these days. The humor felt foreign, almost like it belonged to someone else—someone not scarred by the kind of past that clung to me like a shadow.

The gravel crunched beneath Betsy’s tires as we pulled into a parking spot, a cloud of dust marking our grand entrance. I killed the engine, and the world fell silent save for the ticking of the cooling metal. My heart thudded—a drumbeat of nerves and anticipation.

“Okay,” I whispered to the rearview mirror, meeting the gaze of the blue-eyed girl with the jagged scar along her temple. “You’ve got this.”

I stepped out, the door creaking a protest, and my boots hit the ground with purpose. The air was fresh with a hint of pine, and I filled my lungs, willing the calm of the surrounding nature to seep into my bones.

Sunshine Acres wellness retreat stretched out before me, a sanctuary painted with gentle hues of green and gold. My fingers brushed over the fabric covering the scars on my back—scars no one here knew about, scars I intended to keep to myself.

The walk towards the main building was short, but each step felt laden with meaning. This was it—the fresh start I’d been seeking ever since everything went dark. Each patch of sunlight that kissed my skin seemed to whisper, “Welcome.”

“New beginnings,” I breathed out, feeling the tight coil of anxiety loosen ever so slightly within me. My heart pounded, not just from fear, but something else. Hope? Yeah, maybe that was it. Hope felt like a luxury I couldn’t afford, yet here it was, welling up despite my defenses.

Warmth spread through me, not from the sun, but from the knowledge that this was more than a job; it was a chance at healing. At living. I reached for the door handle, my pulse racing with a cocktail of dread and excitement.

The chime above the door tinkled its greeting, slicing through the silence. I stepped into the foyer of Sunshine Acres, and the scent of lavender and eucalyptus enveloped me—nature’s own welcome mat.

“Chloe Beecham?” A voice like warm honey called out from across the room.

I nodded, my throat too tight to trust with words just yet.

Eryn Blake glided toward me with an ease that made her seem more a part of the serene environment than an intruder in it. She was even more beautiful in person, her brown hair catching the light that streamed through the large windows, her amber eyes immediately locking onto mine with a depth of understanding that startled me.

“Welcome to Sunshine Acres,” she said, her smile reaching her eyes in a way that felt genuine, disarming. “I’m Eryn.”

“I know.” I cringed. “I mean, yes. I’m Chloe.” I thrust out a hand and hoped she dealt with that kind of weirdness often. She was Eryn-freaking-Blake for God’s sake. But my nerves were present due to more than just her fame.

“It’s so nice to meet you,” she said with a serene smile that seemed radiate calmness. “I’m sorry I wasn’t the one to interview you, but Enzo said you would make an amazing addition to the retreat staff.”

Oh. My heart “I appreciate that. I appreciate all of this.” I waved my hand around. The gratitude was heavy on my tongue, but it needed to be said. “For the job. For having me here.”

“Of course.” Her head tilted ever so slightly, a silent acknowledgment of the walls I’d built around myself, then she extended her hand. “Let’s show you around, shall we?”

As we walked, Eryn pointed out the meditation gardens, the yoga pavilion, and the therapy rooms, all while explaining the daily operations. I followed, nodding occasionally, taking mental notes, and trying not to trip over my own feet. I should’ve been overwhelmed, but there was something about her presence that made it all seem manageable.

“Here’s the staff break room,” she said, pushing open a door to reveal a cozy space, filled with the chatter and laughter of employees.

“Everyone, this is Chloe, our newest addition.” Eryn’s introduction was met with a chorus of welcomes that swirled around me like a warm breeze.

“Hey,” I managed, offering up a small wave that felt embarrassingly timid.

“Chloe’s going to help out with client care and some admin work,” Eryn continued, her tone casual, inclusive.

“Great, we could use the extra hands.” A guy with a ponytail and tattoos offered me a grin as he passed by with a stack of yoga mats. “Name’s Pete. Need anything, just holler.”

“Thanks, Pete,” I said, feeling my lips twitch into the faintest of smiles.

“Watch out for his herbal tea concoctions,” someone else quipped, and a ripple of laughter spread through the room.

“Hey, my blends are legendary,” Pete protested, mock offense coloring his tone.

“Legendary for tasting like grass clippings,” another voice added, sparking more laughter.

“Okay, okay,” Eryn intervened, still smiling. “Let’s let Chloe get settled, shall we?”

“Sure thing, boss lady,” Pete said, winking at me before sauntering off.

“Sorry, they’re a lively bunch,” Eryn confessed as we exited the break room.

“Seems . . . nice,” I said, my voice still soft, but I allowed a thread of my dry humor to surface. “If you’re into the whole ‘friendly workplace’ vibe.”

“Terrifying concept, isn’t it?” Eryn’s chuckle was light, easy, and I found myself relaxing just a fraction more.

The rest of the day was a blur of faces and names, tasks assigned with gentle guidance. I folded towels, stocked shelves, and greeted clients with a tentative smile. And somewhere between showing a woman named Judy to the relaxation lounge and learning the art of scheduling appointments without double-booking anyone, I found myself slipping into the rhythm of this place. It was like a dance I didn’t know I’d been practicing for in secret, movements becoming smoother with each passing hour.

“Hey, Chloe?” A client approached tentatively, an older lady with kind eyes. “Could you help me figure out this schedule?”

“Of course,” I said, stepping closer. “Let’s take a look together.”

“Thanks, dear. You’re a lifesaver.” She patted my hand, leaving behind a sense of warmth that lingered.

“Happy to help,” I replied, and meant it. The words came a little easier now, less rehearsed.

“See, you’re a natural,” Eryn said as she passed by, a stack of fresh linens in her arms.

“Natural disaster, maybe,” I quipped, surprising even myself with the response.

“Chloe, humor suits you,” she said, her laugh genuine, and for a moment, I almost believed her.

The day wound down, and the sun dipped low, casting long shadows across the retreat grounds. I sat on a bench outside, watching the last rays of daylight play across the garden. There was something peaceful about the quiet after the hustle of the day, a stillness that seemed to say, “You did good.”

After saying goodbye to Eryn, I headed back to the rundown motel on the edge of town that I was temporarily calling home. As I drove, I took in the beauty of the sunset over the mountains that framed Whittier Falls. The fiery oranges and pinks were so vibrant that for a moment, I could push aside the lingering darkness that clung to me.

But reality came crashing back as soon as I pulled into the motel’s cracked parking lot. My room was in the farthest corner, purposely chosen for its isolation .

The Brighter Days Motel had definitely seen better decades, but it was all I could afford until my first paycheck came in. Unlocking the faded teal door, I stepped inside and flipped on the light, taking in the peeling wallpaper and stained shag carpet.

Home sweet home. For now, at least. But it was a roof over my head, and I tried to ignore the musty scent mingling with stale air.

I sank down on the lumpy mattress, every muscle aching. It had been a good first day, better than I expected. The folks at Sunshine Acres didn’t seem to care about my past. They welcomed me in, no questions asked. Even Eryn took me under her wing right away.

Maybe this really could be a fresh start.

As I stared up at the water-stained ceiling, doubts crept in. What if they found out? Would they look at me differently?

I leaned back against the headboard, letting out a long sigh. The motel room was depressing, but it was only temporary. This job at Sunshine Acres was my chance to build a new life, far away from the tragedy and darkness of my past.

Closing my eyes, I thought about my first day and felt a spark of hope. The work had been calming, almost meditative. Folding towels, stocking shelves—simple tasks that kept my anxious mind quiet. And Eryn . . . her peaceful energy and easy laugh put me at ease. For the first time in a long while, I’d felt the faintest sense of belonging.

Of course, the nerves were still there. I was constantly bracing myself for the moment when someone would discover the truth about me. About my family.

What would happen when they realized I was damaged goods? The familiar panic rose in my chest, tight and suffocating.

“That’s not what I am.” I repeat it to myself as many times as it takes to settle my mind. Maybe not enough to believe it, but to stave off the impending panic.

“First day down,” I whispered to myself, a tiny bubble of pride swelling in my chest. Maybe, just maybe, I could do this. Maybe Whittier Falls was where I was meant to land.

Maybe hope wasn’t such a dangerous thing after all.