Chapter 4
Luke pulled into Refuge Cove and sat in his truck a moment before getting out.
The farmhouse looked the same as always. The place was broad and white, with a wrap-around porch stretching the length of the front. The long gravel drive curved past the pond in the front yard, the water still and gray in the early afternoon light.
At the back of the property, the framed walls of six new cottages stood against the tree line. His crew was there working, just as they were supposed to be.
His sister Sarah and her husband, Richard, had purchased these three hundred acres of Blue Ridge Mountain property. Sarah had wanted to open a Bed and Breakfast here, so Richard, an architect, had designed the house to fit that vision.
Tragically, she hadn’t lived long enough to see her dreams come true.
In Sarah’s memory—and to combat domestic violence, the very thing that had killed her—Luke’s family had turned her former home into a women’s shelter.
Their cover story involved the kennel that sat on the right side of the property, where they boarded dogs.
But they also advertised Refuge Cove as a private, invite-only retreat center that operated as a nonprofit.
Only the people who truly needed to know were aware that this place was also a domestic violence shelter.
And it was quickly growing, which was why they were building these cottages.
Luke climbed out of the truck, and three dogs instantly ran to meet him. Hamilton was Caleb’s husky, Good Boy was a golden retriever belonging to his sister Naomi, and Thunder was Wyatt’s search and rescue dog.
At any given time, there were multiple dogs on the property. His entire family was full of dog lovers, plus they ran the kennel. He himself didn’t have time to take care of a dog.
He gave all the canines a good head pat before glancing around.
A fourth dog watched from the edge of the lawn.
She hung back near the corner of the porch, a chocolate Lab with a deep brown coat and soft, folded ears. By every rule of her breed should have been the friendliest dog on the property. Instead, she remained standoffish.
Her name was Freya, and she’d come to Refuge Cove a few weeks ago with one of the women who’d passed through. When that woman finally moved on to somewhere safer, she hadn’t been able to take the dog with her.
So Freya had stayed—fed and sheltered and bonded to no one, watching the family from a careful distance with a measured gaze.
Luke had tried more than once to win her over, but he’d gotten exactly nowhere. Freya trusted no one and had decided for herself that distance was safer.
He couldn’t say he blamed her.
It was spring break, which meant his kids were with his mother today while he worked. She’d brought them here. Refuge Cove was their new favorite place—especially since it had dogs and chickens.
Luke heard his kids before he saw them. Cora’s voice carried across the lawn, and Jonah’s higher pitch answered her. He smiled at the sound.
His kids were his whole world. And he’d protect them at all costs.
However, did protecting them mean keeping their mom away or did it mean letting her back into their lives?
He wasn’t sure.
He came around the corner of the house and saw his mother on the back porch steps with a coffee mug in her hand, watching Jonah crouch in the grass over something he’d found.
Meanwhile, Cora circled him with boundless energy, hands flying through the air as she talked.
Liam walked a small dog on a leash in the distance.
His mom gave him a slight nod and turned back to the kids. Even though he was late, she didn’t ask any questions. It was one of the things he’d always loved most about his mother. She had an instinct for when to push and when to simply stand alongside, and she’d never once gotten it wrong.
Right now, Luke needed to find his brothers.
He spotted Caleb and Wyatt talking at the back of the property. They both looked up when he approached.
It was just the two of them, Luke noted. Millie was still out at the partner ranch in Arizona, where she’d spent the better part of the month helping the women they’d relocated settle in while the construction wrapped up.
She’d volunteered for the job before anyone could ask. That was just who she was. The place felt quieter without her, and Luke knew Caleb felt the quiet more than anyone.
Their wedding was only a month away.
“Hey.” Caleb turned toward him. “I thought you’d be here an hour ago.”
“I got held up.” Luke glanced back toward the lawn. The kids were still in the yard, well out of earshot. “I need to tell you both something.”
“Sounds ominous,” Caleb said.
Luke sucked in a deep breath as he tried to figure out where to start.
He decided not to soften the announcement. “Jenna’s back.”
Caleb blinked. “What?”
“No way . . .” Wyatt muttered.
“I ran into her this morning. At Hartwell’s. She’s been in town a while, apparently.” He kept his voice level. “She’s staying at Hollow House.”
Wyatt stared at him, not bothering to hide his disbelief. “You’re serious?”
“As serious as a crack in the foundation.”
Caleb swung his head back and forth. “Why? Why would she come back now? After two years?”
“She said it’s complicated.”
Wyatt let out a short breath. “Complicated. She disappears, walks back into Blue Ridge Hollow, and that’s what she gives you.” He shook his head. “Why does everyone use that word like it means something?”
Luke agreed. “I don’t know. But that’s what she said.”
“That takes nerve.” Caleb’s jaw flexed. “I’ll give her that much.”
Luke had thought the same thing.
Wyatt shifted, still looking at him. “Are you going to talk to her again?”
“I don’t know yet.”
“What about the kids?” Caleb asked. “Does she want to see them?”
“She didn’t say.” He paused. “I didn’t give her much chance to say anything.”
“Good.” Wyatt narrowed his eyes before shrugging.
Caleb shot him a look.
“I’m just saying.” Wyatt crossed his arms. “We watched what happened to you after she left. We watched what it did to the kids. You don’t just walk back into that without some answers first.”
“He knows that,” Caleb said.
“I know he knows it. I’m saying it anyway.”
Luke looked across the yard at his children as they played.
Jonah had abandoned whatever he’d found in the grass and was now climbing onto the bottom porch rail, his grandmother positioned to catch him.
Cora was talking—she was always talking—beside them, her hands moving the way they did when she told her stories.
Liam held a chicken, saying something to it as he walked.
His kids. His whole world.
And it was his job to protect them. Sometimes, protecting them required making hard choices—choices he didn’t want to make.
His spine straightened. “She’s not seeing them. Not yet. Not until I know what’s going on.”
Neither brother argued with his statement.
“We’ll help you figure it out,” Caleb said. “Tell us what you need.”
Wyatt nodded once. “That’s what family’s for.”
Gratitude filled Luke. He was so thankful for his family.
And he just might need them now more than ever.
That night, Luke stood at the stove and stirred marinara sauce into some cooked spaghetti noodles.
The meal wasn’t gourmet by any stretch. Then again, he’d never set out to be a cook—that had always been Jenna’s domain. Necessity hadn’t done much to change his skills.
But the kids usually ate his meals without complaint, and tonight that was all he could ask for.
He dished out the food at the stove and carried the plates to the table, setting a cannister of parmesan cheese in the middle where everyone could reach it. If he’d had more energy, he would have made a salad. But tonight he hadn’t been up for it.
Then he sat at the table, ready to pretend like everything was normal. Like he hadn’t just seen Jenna.
Acting had always been his youngest sister’s talent—not his.
He glanced at his youngest. “Jonah, sit down please.”
Jonah, who’d been standing on the bottom rung of his chair like it was a stepladder, dropped into his seat with a thump. “I’m sitting.”
“You weren’t.”
“I am now.”
Luke gave him a look. Then they all joined hands, and Luke prayed over the food.
After he said “amen,” they all dug in.
Within mere seconds, Cora was twirling spaghetti around her fork with more ambition than technique. A streak of sauce almost immediately appeared on her chin. Luke handed her a napkin.
For a few minutes, there was nothing but the ordinary noise of dinner—forks against plates, Jonah asking for more bread, Liam eating with focused quiet.
His thoughts again wandered to Jenna. He thought about how much his children’s lives would change if they knew their mom was back in town.
He thought about the trauma they’d already been through. He didn’t want to put them through that again.
He wouldn’t do that.
But there could also be trauma if he purposefully kept them away from their mom.
What was the right thing to do?
“I meant to tell you—Sadie’s mom braided her hair last week,” Cora announced halfway through the meal. “It went all the way down her back. It was so pretty.”
“That sounds nice.” Cora had always liked pretty things.
“A French braid. That’s what Sadie called it.” She demonstrated with her fingers, her fork still in hand. “I don’t know how to do that kind.”
“Neither do I, Bug.” He’d mastered a simple braid, but that was about it.
“I know.” She twirled another forkful of spaghetti, studying it. “Daddy, do you think Mommy knows how to do French braids?”
The table went quiet. His kids had talked about their mother a lot for the first year. But over time, mentions of her had faded.
“I’m not sure.” Luke chose his words carefully.
“I think she probably does.” Cora spoke with the easy confidence of a six-year-old who didn’t know any better. “I think she probably knows lots of things about hair. I think about that sometimes, about how things would be different if she was here.”
Jonah looked up from his plate, his mouth ringed with sauce. “I don’t have a mom.”
“You do have a mom,” Luke corrected. “Everyone has a mom.”
Jonah’s brow furrowed. “Then where is she?”
Luke set down his fork. He wasn’t ready to have this talk. Not now. Not after all of today’s events.
“That’s a conversation for another time, Bud.” Luke just couldn’t handle this talk right now. He needed to sort some things out first.
“Okay.” Jonah picked up his bread and took an enormous bite, already moving on. “Can I have more juice?”
“Of course. Liam, would you help him?”
“Yes, sir.” Liam nodded and slid from his chair.
Cora still looked at Luke. She didn’t push or look upset. Instead, she watched him with those wide, dark eyes.
She had Jenna’s eyes. Jenna’s face too, for that matter.
This little girl had no idea how much she looked like her mother.
But Luke was reminded of it every time he saw her.
Luke reached for his fork and took a bite of spaghetti. But his meal was suddenly tasteless.
He had some big decisions to make—decisions that wouldn’t just affect him.
He couldn’t afford to get this wrong.