Page 1 of A Place Like You
Wren’s Prologue
Secrets are as plentiful as pines in Heartwood Lake, Colorado.
Heartwood Lake is an enigmatic town where whispers of hidden truths fill the air, are kept concealed and unspoken, and reserved solely for a chosen few. Every cobblestone, evergreen, and old wooden structure holds secrets known by only a few. We don’t have many tourists, and if we do, they pass through quickly and quietly, blending in with the surroundings like wildflowers in the grass, soon fading away into forgotten memories.
Except for them. No one can ignore the Kershaw family.
They’re not your average person and can’t blend with the rest of us.
It’s impossible to pretend they aren’t here, since they’re like a bold splash of color in an otherwise green-scale palette that makes our town unique. There’s something strangely captivating about them, a charisma that fractures our town’s usual monotony.
At least, I know one of the reasons why they’re here. The entire family is hiding their past and their sins. They’re escaping their truths and hoping to live another day.Someone wants them served on a silver platter—and they hide several secrets of their own.
How do I know? I work for Crait Quantum Shield, the people who run the Endor Concealment program—a privately owned witness protection program.
Now, you might be wondering why a family doctor for a small town is working for a high-security intelligence company. The answer is simple. In my other life, I used to be a trauma surgeon. I might not know any fighting moves, but I know how to save lives when people are hanging by a thread.
And no, it wasn’t like being in the middle of Chicago Med, Grey’s Anatomy, or any of those medical dramas everyone loves. It was real life emergencies with no rehearsals and victims who sometimes didn’t make it.
The owners of Crait Quantum Shield and I have a symbiotic relationship that works well for both parties. They need my experience, and in exchange, they protect my five-year-old son and me.
But let’s focus on the Kershaws—at least, that’s the last name they go by. For all we know, their last name could be Smith, Thomas, or Brown. This is the first time that so many people—eleven—have come into the program simultaneously pretending to be related.
We’re not sure if they’re a family, or if the program made up the relationship between them. For all we know, they could be siblings, cousins twice removed, or neighbors who witnessed a crime. Everything about them is a mystery that wraps around them like twisting ivy.
There’s something about this family that makes me want to uncover their truth—but technically, I’m not allowed to.
Still, I have to know what the deal is with them. It’s in my nature. And have I mentioned they don’t look normal? All the men are extremely handsome, and the women are beautiful—even their mothers are attractive. They resemble models who have been hired to be a part of a reality show unfolding right in our own backyard.
My three best friends and I have front row seats, drinks and snacks in hand, waiting to see what’ll unfold in front of us, while also trying to figure out what they hide. Are they guilty of a crime or just hiding from a serial killer?
We have to know who’s in our town and why. We always figure it out.
And without the boss or his team knowing, we’ll figure things out. It’s simply a matter of putting our heads together and protecting our hearts.
Drake’s Prologue
I didn’t ask to be born, and I certainly didn’t choose my life.
And sure, that sounds too fucking dramatic, but it’s just a fact in the life of Drake Cillian Thorndale—that would be me.
If I had been given a choice, I wouldn’t have chosen to be the firstborn of Eric Thorndale.
Eric Thorndale, the man with a reputation larger than life and a heart smaller than a mustard seed.At twenty-three, he knocked up the family maid—that’ll be my mother. A woman I never met since my grandparents paid her to disappear. I don’t think I’ll ever forgive them for robbing me of the opportunity to get to know her.
She’s not mentioned on my birth certificate, and there’s no trace of her. I wouldn’t be surprised if anyone told me the Thorndales killed her and disposed of her body.
When I was two, Dad married his first wife. At the request of his parents, he dragged me along. She was nice enough, but dear ol’ Dad built a concrete wall between Donna and me and attached a “Not Your Mother” sign on it. It was his sweet way to remind me I’m his bastard and nothing more.
I resented my brothers Magnus, Callahan, and Bach who were the bona fide sons of Eric Thorndale. Magnus was groomed to become Dad’s sole successor since day one even when I was his firstborn.
Unsurprisingly, four years after the happy nuptials, Donna and my father went through a bitter divorce.
When Flora, wife number two, stepped into the picture, she yanked me into her frosty embrace. She hated me, and the feeling was mutual. During that marriage, there were two new Thorndales: Gael and Genevieve. I wasn’t a fan of them, but now that we’re older, I get along with Gael well enough. He’s pleasant with everyone. It’s hard not to like him.
Leonora Marchesani, wife number three, barely made it past the honeymoon phase before she was out the door. However, she left with a small Thorndale as a souvenir—Slade. My younger brother has a chip on his shoulder. Anger runs in his veins. I can’t say that I like him, but he hates us all.
Then there was Suzie. Picture-perfect, full-of-love Suzie. I didn’t see her as my mom, but I loved her like an aunt—or a family friend. She made the effort to get to know me, and I learned a lot from her. Thanks to her, I even decided to go to med school. She was patient with all her stepchildren—and loved my father. Her death messed us all up, mostly her children, River and Elmira.
