Light filters in through my eyelids, and it takes me a second to sort out my surroundings. The sheets are stiff and colder than I’m used to. The surrounding air carries a rich humidity scented with alpine and a hint of dust, without a fan to soften the heat pouring in from behind me.

I’m in Balsam Grove.

In the cottage.

There was a storm last night.

My eyes open wide as I recall the familiar gaze that stared back at me in the flash of lightning, like the universe wanted me to see him. I shiver at the glimmer of hope buried deep in my chest that he was real and not a figment of my dreams. But if that was him, he made it pretty clear he didn’t want to see me.

Shame washes over me. He bolted just like I did six years ago.

Moaning, I make my way to the bathroom. Thoughts like these will only distract me. I need to focus on why I’m here: to heal and to move on. Nodding with conviction, I turn the knob at the sink, fill my palms with cold water, and lean down to splash my face.

After managing to lug my suitcases inside, I sort through it all downstairs. My clothes are a jumbled mess from last night, but I manage to find a pair of khaki shorts and a flowy white blouse with short bell sleeves. After strapping on a pair of sandals, I hop in my car, and it only takes a few seconds to remember the direction I need to head to reach the small section of shops in town. It’s interesting how some parts of my memory are so clear, like I never left, and some are held hostage in a black box I can’t access.

A few minutes later I pull in to a parking lot at the end of a block of shopping centers. Nestled between a sprawling incline of the mountain and the French Broad River are several short blocks of two-story brick buildings in assorted colors and sizes. The river is narrower in this part of town, and the water flows hard and fast as a result of the storm last night. I want to capture it. Frame it. And carry it with me always so I’ll never forget it again.

It’s easy to lose sight of the beauty that lies in simplicity. A small town like this has so much to offer, all of it free: the landscape, the natural resources, the adventure, the quiet. Yet there are those who have lived here their entire lives who feel restless, trapped, and want nothing more than to leave. I always appreciated my small summer doses of Balsam Grove, but now that I’m here taking in the air with eyes wide open, I realize how much even I had taken for granted.

My steps slow as I peer in the windows of the three dozen or so shops that line the main drive. The grocery and hardware stores look familiar, their hanging signs unchanged—paint worn and in need of straightening—but most of the sidewalk shops seem to be new.

A sign in one window calling attention to a weekly waterfall tour with a few spots remaining catches my eye. My heart beats fast as I push through the door, my curiosity winning out.

Balsam Grove was always a great tourist town, off the beaten path but worth the drive for those who’re looking for a challenging hike or a day lounging at the falls. I’ve never taken a tour, though, not in all the time I spent here. Mostly because there was no need to hire a tour guide when I was busy exploring the woods with Jaxon.

A woman in her mid-fifties sits behind the desk and acknowledges me with a distracted smile when I enter. She’s nodding into a bright blue phone receiver, the kind with a spiral cord attached.

“Absolutely,” she says. “You’re all booked for Saturday, and I just emailed you some forms. You’ll need to bring them in when you arrive so we can clear you for the group hike.” Her smile brightens. “Wonderful. Then I’ll see you Saturday, Mr.—”

The voice on the other end of the line distracts her again. I turn to the rack of pamphlets against the wall and leaf through them. Balsam Grove sure seems to be thriving. There’s a tour for just about everything. Mountain biking, leisurely scenic hikes, fishing, horseback riding, waterfall adventures, whitewater rafting, tubing down French Broad River. Geez. The options are endless.

One flyer in particular catches my eye, advertising Canvas and Wine classes, whatever that is. I smile when I see a waterfall hiking brochure beside it that describes the history of the changing landscapes since the first hiker documented them in the early 1920s. I don’t have to read it. I remember the landmarks well. I spent hours staring at each one, memorizing every jagged edge and concave, noting at what points the flow increased or calmed in speed. I remember the crescendo of water at the lips of the falls, the sound of the powerful water being swallowed by the pool below.

It’s true what they say about experiencing the world through a bigger lens as a child. The colors are brighter. Senses are new. Dreams aren’t limited by roadblocks and failures—they are infinite. But when you’re a child, the shadows are also darker. Vulnerabilities are raw, unprotected. And the weight of a single disappointment can be crushing.

Still, no matter what life handed me over the years, good or bad, the falls became my safe haven. From a deteriorating home life. My rising doubts about my future. My love life gone awry. The falls were always there. Despite their changing landscapes, they were the sturdiest place for me to stand.

Or so my young mind thought.

The receptionist’s phone clatters onto its base, bringing me back to the present.

“Thank you for your patience, dear.” The woman smiles. “Are you interested in a tour? If you give me an idea of what you’re looking for, I can point you in the right direction.”

“I-I’m not sure.” My gaze drops to the brochure again. “Hiking, maybe? I’d like to get to know the area again.” I bite my tongue and cringe. She doesn’t need to know I’ve been here before. “I mean, it was a long time ago, and I don’t really remember much.”

She smiles again, her small, almond-shaped eyes piercing me with their brightness. “Well, then you have some options. We have hiking tours daily. One stops at the waterfalls for lunch, and one goes a bit further up the mountains. We have weekend and weekly tours that leave on Fridays and Mondays too if you plan on staying awhile. Otherwise, we can book you on a half-day or day-long hike.”

“Any tour is fine.” I can’t handle the plethora of options.

There’s a curiosity in her expression now as she looks me up and down. I’m not dressed the part of a hiker. I’m not even sure what I’ll wear when I go on this hike. The wardrobe I brought is scarce and simple in style, but I figured I could buy what I needed when I arrived.

She turns to her computer. “How long will you be in town?”

How do I answer that? The decision to come back here to mend the wounds of my past didn’t come with a manual. There’s no end date. No deadline. I’m just here to figure out what’s next for me. Balsam Grove is a pit stop on the way to the rest of my life. When I’m ready, I’ll sell the cottage and put a deposit on a place of my own…somewhere.

“Oh, I’m not sure. Maybe a month.” The idea of being here for more than another day knots my insides with live wires. After experiencing the storm last night and the rise of panic that came with it, not to mention the man who appeared on my back porch… I’ll need to take this one day at a time.

“I see.” She taps away on her keyboard. “I can put you on a waterfall day hike next Wednesday. You’ll leave at ten in the morning and arrive back at base at eight.”

That sounds perfect. A tour of the land to bring me back to that state of mind where anything felt possible. When the rush of the river lived in my veins, and when the storm wasn’t a warning but a celebration. I’m desperate for a taste of it all.

I hand her my card with a smile. “Great, I’ll take it.”

But as she’s entering my information into the computer, I see the recognition register on her face. For a moment, her eyes lock on the screen and I swear her fingers tremble on the keyboard. At first I think I’m imagining it, but when her face crumbles and she looks back at me like she’s preparing me for bad news, I know she recognizes me.

“Oh dear.” She shakes her head dramatically, failing to meet my eyes. “This is quite the unfortunate event. It looks like the last slot for the waterfall tour just got booked up. I can put you on a waitlist for another tour. No guarantees, though.”

“Wait,” I lean in trying to glance at her screen. “You just said there was an opening.”

“It’s been filled.” Her voice is colder now, less friendly.

My mouth opens, shock slicing through me. “I’ve been standing here the entire time. How did someone take my spot?”

The woman’s faded red lips shake for a second, a tell that she’s not being completely honest. If there’s one thing I’ve learned to do over the years, it’s how to read people. Their mannerisms, their ticks. I’ve become quite good at it.

“It was an online reservation.” She’s still not looking back at me. “It happens all the time, really.” She waves her hand in the air. “It’s something we intend to fix, but unfortunately, we’re all filled up for the next few weeks.”

My jaw snaps shut, and I push away from the counter with a huff.

“Let me just get you onto our waiting list…”

She drones on in a nervous rush while I’m quiet, too busy assessing her every flinch and tremor, certain she refused me a hiking spot on purpose. But now that I’m examining the older woman’s aerosoled blonde hair, her light blue eye shadow, and the long tap of her cherry red acrylic nails, familiarity sparks in my chest. I can’t put my finger on how or why, but I know this woman.

The click and creak of the door followed by heavy footsteps averts my attention. I swivel toward the sound. A man in a dark brown suit and tie with a decorative patch on his arm walks in. He’s wearing a gold badge in the shape of a star above his lapel, and his eyes flicker between the woman behind the counter and me.

He studies me hard, as if I’m a mystery he’s piecing together. Chills shoot down my spine, making me shiver.

The deputy’s eyes move over me, the scowl on his face growing like he’s just made a connection. I swallow. No, I am not being paranoid. He knows who I am. And he is not happy to see me.

My heart is lodged in my throat but that doesn’t stop me from matching his once-over with one of my own. He’s young, just a few years older than me, with short, sandy blond hair, bangs cut too short, and hazel, almond-shaped eyes. In fact, he eerily resembles the woman behind the counter.

That’s when it hits me. “Tanner.” My voice may come out small, but there’s confidence in my tone.

I didn’t have many friends when I lived here, but the few acquaintances I made were thanks to Jaxon. Tanner was one of them. He was Balsam Grove’s sports hero, competitive to a fault about pretty much everything. He was also the definition of entitled, being that his father was the town’s sheriff. He was always getting into some kind of trouble, but he’d get away with it every time. Pranks, theft, loud arguments with anyone who dared ruffle his feathers. A few times his rage got the better of him, and his fist would wind up buried in someone’s cheek. Sheriff Brooks would always pull some strings and get him out of trouble.

How the hell did he end up on the other side of the law? I guess it’s obvious, but it’s still hard to imagine the people of Balsam Grove take their orders from him. It’s laughable, really.

“Aurora June. Holy fuck. What’s it been, seven years? You have some nerve showing your face in this town again.” It’s an odd thing to say with a shit-eating grin, but that’s Tanner. Awkward humor at the most inappropriate times. And he revels in it.

I know he said it as a joke, but I have to fight the twist of discomfort in my chest. It’s enough verification that I’m unwanted. Unwelcome.

I look back at the woman behind the counter. Now that everything is beginning to click, I know she’s Tanner’s mother.

Sighing, I turn back to Tanner, taking in his attire one more time. “There is no way your pops gave you a gun and a badge. Who in their right mind would let you protect them?”

His lip curls with the competitive flair I remember all too well. “You bet your ass they do. Balsam Grove has never been safer. And now that we’re finally booking tours again, we intend to keep it that way.”

“Booking tours again?” What an odd thing to say.

“That’s right.” His brows pinch together. “Hiking wasn’t so popular around here for a bit. Rumor got out about the hiker disappearances, and it destroyed business around here. A lot of locals went out of business. A couple years ago when all the smoke had cleared, we started offering new tours and accommodations, and slowly but surely things started picking up again.”

My skin crawls at the way he’s looking at me now, testing me, like he thinks I’m my father reincarnate.

“Yeah, well, congratulations.” My voice is dry as I shift with unease. “I’m just passing through. I have some things to take care of at the cottage, and I don’t want any trouble.” I hope Tanner knows this is a request as much as a statement.

Tanner exchanges a worried glance with his mother over my shoulder, triggering my eyes to roll before I start to move forward with annoyance. “Never mind. I need to get going.”

“Wait, Aurora,” he jumps in, stepping in front of me to block my exit. “Look. You should know…the town—these people—they don’t forget. And, well, things are finally going well again. With Pops out a lot helping search and rescue teams around the state, I’m second in command. It’s me who’s running things now.”

He pauses, as if uncertain how to phrase what’s coming next, an uncharacteristic move for Tanner. But then again, Tanner did always treat me like a little sister. Like he was trying to protect me from something—or someone. I always thought it was because our fathers were good friends.

I sigh. “I’m not here to stop any progress. Just let me be. I’ll stay out of your way. Everyone’s way. No one needs to know I’m even here.”

He calls me on my bullshit with a tilt of his head and raised brows, zeroing in on me with his eyes. “Seriously, Aurora? You think they won’t recognize you? You’re still carrying the June name, aren’t ya?” He leans closer, lowering his voice to a controlled whisper. “What are you doing here? The town will be up in arms when they realize you’re back. I’m trying to be nice here, but I’m not joking around about that. They won’t feel safe with—” He cuts himself off with a shake of his head.

My gut churns with a blaze. I don’t think I want to hear the rest of that sentence.

“If you don’t leave on your own, these people—they will run you out of town.”

“Let them try.”

He narrows his eyes. “It won’t be pretty.”

I adjust my stance, leveling him with my stare. A challenge. “And I’m sure you’ll just stand by and watch.”

He grows taller, ears reddening in anger. “This is my town. And I will do anything to protect the people here.”

Anger bubbles up inside me with his words. “You say that like I’m a threat.”

His silence and his hardened jaw tell me everything I need to know. Maybe Tanner isn’t the misunderstood boy I remember from my childhood. He’s clearly jumped on the June hate club bandwagon.

“He’s your blood. I’m sorry, Aurora. Like I said, I have nothing against you. I’m telling you all this so that you’ll be prepared.”

“Well hear me, because I’m only saying this once more. I will leave when I’m good and ready, and not a second before.”

The cold glare he shoots me in return fills my veins with ice. He leans in, the heat from his anger wafting toward me in warning. “I imagine staying in your daddy’s old cottage must bring back some feelings.” His voice is low, almost menacing. I hate the way my body trembles in response. “Doesn’t it? Especially being there alone at night. When darkness creeps in and you’re left isolated with your thoughts, those old memories must destroy you. After what he did to those girls. To you.”

This time my body shudders, visibly.

“I’m not alone,” I lie. After everything he said, that’s what I respond to. I feel compelled to arm myself with something he can’t control, even though it isn’t true. I am alone, but no one needs to know that. “I’m here with someone.”

Tanner looks out the door, searching—for someone or something. “There’s no one with you.”

I try to hide my swallow by raising my chin. “I came to town to get some things. He’s back at the cottage.”

“He?”

“A friend,” I blurt out, but it’s not enough to say friend. He needs to know I’m protected. “My fiancé.” The lie twists through me, knowing how happy the statement would make Scott. I saw the ring box in his computer bag when I borrowed a pen to scribble him a quick goodbye. Seeing it only hastened my departure. But I can’t think about that right now. I can’t think about how awful I was to him, leaving without a warning or an explanation.

But I hope the excuse will buy myself some time and hopefully get Tanner off my back. The last thing I need is to give him a reason to rile up the town. If he thinks my stay is temporary, which it is, and he knows I’m with someone, which I’m not, maybe he will keep his distance.

“I’m going to assume that fiancé of yours is aware of the situation we have here. You’re making a mistake, Aurora.”

His words hit me deeper than I’ll show. He wants me gone. Truly. To heed his warning and leave before I disrupt the financial progress of the town. But I can’t for the life of me see how me being here will disrupt anything. And as easy as it would be to pack my things and head back to Durham, I can’t leave. Not until I’m able to accomplish what I came here to do. To find peace. To face the past I’ve kept locked away for so long.

A pressure builds in my throat. “I didn’t do anything wrong, Deputy Tanner.”

“No, not yet. But you are a reminder of the hell your father rained down on this town. You should know, the talk hasn’t died just because your father has. We’re in a better place here now,” he says, straightening his stance. “Everyone is.”

The way he says everyone triggers erratic thoughts to spiral through me, winding and weaving through my chest. I get the feeling he means Jaxon is in a better place without me. And that fucking hurts.

While Jaxon and I kept our affection for one another on the down low, it was hard to hide from those we were closest to. No one approved. For so many reasons—our age difference and my father’s bad reputation, to name two.

Crossing my arms over my chest, I take in a deep breath. “Well, everyone is just going to have to get over it. I’m here. My dad’s cottage is mine now. And I won’t be driven away by a bunch of Balsam Grove assholes who feel the need to bully me out of town.”

Tanner dips down, lowering his face so his nose is almost touching mine. I flinch in surprise but hold my ground.

“I wish you would reconsider. I’ll be watching you, sweetie. Every wrong turn, every establishment you step into, every acquaintance you make. I’ll be watching that fiancé of yours, too.”

I chuckle, feeling the opposite of amused. “You’re going to spy on me, Deputy Tanner? I can’t imagine that’s legal, not even in Balsam Grove.”

His lip curls upward. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

I walk toward the exit, my entire body radiating an uncontrollable heat. I need to get out of here before I say something I’ll regret. I reach the door and wrap my hand around the cold metal knob, squeezing it beneath my palm. I turn it and take my first step out the door.

“Hey, Aurora.” Tanner’s voice crawls over my skin like a swarm of ants. I freeze and turn, meeting his cold-as-ice smile with an expressionless one of my own.

“Welcome back to Balsam Grove.” He winks. “Be careful out there.”