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1
The bright, afternoon sun flooded Izzy Sterling’s car. The warm rays couldn’t chase away the chill racing down her spine as she stared at the construction site, the towering equipment and crates of supplies stealing her attention away from the majestic peaks of the Smoky Mountains beyond. The spring weather had done nothing to beat back the gloom and fear that had clung to her since before Christmas—since she’d barely escaped being tortured and sold into a life she couldn’t imagine.
A life she couldn’t stop envisioning, no matter how hard she’d tried.
And now she sat in her beat-up sedan, willing her body to move and climb out of the car. She’d dreaded this day as soon as she’d agreed to help the woman who owned the place—Brooke Mather—restore some of the old cabins behind the half-built log building that currently dominated her view. A suggestion made by her therapist. Dr. Kirkton recommended facing her fears in an attempt to handle the anxiety that had swept in and stalled her life for months.
Not knowing what else to do, Izzy accepted the challenge. She’d called Brooke and asked if she could lend a hand at Crossroads Mountain Retreat. A place Brooke hoped to make a destination for injured law enforcement and veterans, but for Izzy, it was where she’d been taken. Held captive as she waited for rescue, trapped in a nightmare. Brooke was thrilled for the extra help, and Izzy was now committed to spending time in the place where her life had changed forever.
A petite woman with her long brown hair piled on top of her head rounded the corner of the building with a large man in a yellow hard hat and bearded chin. Izzy watched them, the woman’s hands moving in sweeping gestures as she spoke, like she could convey whatever she needed.
As if she could feel Izzy’s eyes on her, the woman faced the car and smiled before waving her arm in the air.
Izzy sighed and secured her long, blond locks in a low ponytail. Great, she’d been spotted. No way she could change her mind and leave now. Shutting off the engine, she stepped onto the gravel that covered the wide parking lot and made her way to the woman’s side.
“Hi! Are you Izzy?” The woman extended a hand. “I’m Brooke. We spoke on the phone.”
Izzy forced a tight smile and shook Brooke’s hand before draping her arms across her middle. “Nice to meet you. Thanks for letting me do this.”
Brooke beamed but understanding lit her brown eyes. “Are you kidding me? Anyone who volunteers to help me get the old cabins back into shape is my new best friend. Scrubbing all the crud out of them won’t be easy, but a little hard work can be good for the soul.”
Relief loosened the knots tying up Izzy’s insides. Brooke might know exactly why Izzy was here, but not mentioning it put her more at ease. If only her mom and sister could be the same way.
Pulling in a deep breath of fresh mountain air, she pushed aside her real reasons for being here. She just wanted to get this over with. “I can scrub with the best of them. Where do we start?”
Brooke hooked her arm through Izzy’s and steered her around the building. “Why don’t I give you a little tour first? There’s not too much to show yet, but hopefully you can see my vision.”
“Sounds good,” Izzy said, falling into step beside her. She might be a good cleaner, but she didn’t relish the thought of scouring through dilapidated cabins. She cast a quick glance at the side of the building, spotting the interior walls and blocks of large spaces inside. “What’s this building for?” She asked, nodding toward the construction site.
“This will be the main lodge,” Brooke said, halting to turn them toward it. “Therapy sessions, dining hall, gym. The whole works. When I was at my lowest, I needed a variety of outlets to lift me back up. I want to make sure I have those same outlets, and more, for everyone who comes here.”
Questions burned the tip of Izzy’s tongue, but she kept them to herself. If she didn’t want to jump into her own issues, she had no right to ask Brooke about hers. Instead, she rounded the building, keeping a wide berth around a giant bulldozer, and the scene before her squeezed her breath from her lungs.
“Beautiful isn’t,” Brooke said, nudging her shoulder.
Unexpected tears filled her eyes, and she sniffed them back. The view of the large lake surrounded by miles of evergreens and looming maples transported her back to a simpler time. “I have so many memories of this place. I didn’t expect being here again to hit me like this.”
Brooke took a step closer, as though wanting to comfort her but also respect her personal space. “Did you come here as a kid? Back when it was a summer camp?”
She nodded and rubbed a hand back and forth over her collarbone—a nervous habit she’d picked up recently. “My sister and I always came to camp. We looked forward to it every year. I even had my first kiss here. We were heartbroken when the camp closed down.”
“Me, too. My grandpa owned it. I spent a lot of time here. Helping out any way I could. When my grandpa left me the land, I wasn’t sure what I wanted to do with it. Then it hit me. This land—this place—was always my refuge. I want this place to be a refuge for others who experienced setbacks like I did. Give members of law enforcement and veterans a place to heal. A place to rebuild their lives.”
Emotion clogged Izzy’s throat, and she coughed to clear it out. Nostalgia and cherished memories battled against the constant fear churning in her gut. “That’s nice. So you mentioned cabins needing scrubbed?”
Brooke clapped her hands and rubbed her palms together. “Yes. I’m salvaging the old bunk houses around the lake. Turning them into individual cabins for the guests. The ones deeper in the woods will be used for storage or torn down.”
The reminder of the cabins tucked deep in the forest made Izzy wince. The memories of huddling in the corner of a run-down cabin, her body shaking from cold and terror, made her muscles rigid.
A gentle hand on her shoulder helped her release a shaky breath. “I’m sorry I brought up those cabins,” Brooke said. “No need to think about what happened. Let’s just lose ourselves in a little work. Maybe crank up some music. I promise I won’t force you to listen to my horrible singing voice.”
Izzy choked out a laugh and nodded. “Sounds good.”
“Brooke! Come quick!” A man emerged from the edge of the trees. His pronounced frown and wide eyes clear from yards away.
Brooke broke into a jog toward him, Izzy following close behind.
“What’s going on, Cruz?” Brooke asked, stopping in front of a clean-shaven police officer she recognized from town.
