Page 2 of A Place Like You

After that, I moved to Los Angeles and tried to start fresh, but bad luck follows me everywhere. It’s been years since I’ve gone through the motions, keeping up appearances, trying to forget the shitstorm that’s my life. That’s when Dad’s call came in, pulling me back into the vortex of the Thorndale family. He needed me, and because of some twisted sense of family obligation, I had to comply.

It wasn’t like he was asking. It was an order. One I followed, and now here I am, in the middle of nowhere, Colorado, off the grid, cooped up with my siblings.

Whoever thought putting the Thorndale family in the same place doesn’t understand the dynamics of a dysfunctional family.

Our family reunions resemble a game of Survivor or Hunger Games complete with alliances, backstabbing, and challenges. Seven of my eight siblings, two of my former stepmothers, and I are sharing the same space. There’s a rumor that Slade might join us.

Some are trying to figure out what the fuck we’re doing here, others are fighting to get the hell out, and I’m just wondering who’ll be the last man—or woman—standing.

Let the games begin.

Chapter One

Drake

I push open the wooden door to Heartwood Brew Bar, and the aroma of freshly prepared coffee envelops me, instantly transporting me to a different place and era. The cozy little coffee shop nestled amidst the breathtaking mountains of Colorado is a charming blend of nostalgic ’90s vibes and modern elegance. As I step inside, a wave of warm, earthy hues greets me, emanating from the plush couches, modern tables, and walls adorned with vintage posters.

The soft murmur of conversations fills the air, accompanied by the gentle melodies flowing from the speakers overhead, playing classical music. I find myself drawn to the sleek, state-of-the-art espresso machines standing behind the counter, their polished chrome surfaces reflecting the soft glow of the pendant lights hanging above. It’s a juxtaposition that flawlessly captures the essence of this place—blending the simplicity of yesteryears with the modern days.

The line is long. They definitely need more than just one coffee shop in this small town. My attention swivels to the barista, who gives the person in turn a friendly smile. “What can I get you today?” The acoustics in this place are great since I can hear her voice all the way to where I stand.

“Why is this place swamped?” one of the women standing in front of me muses aloud impatiently.

Her complaint drifts in the air until the woman next to her softly chuckles, responding, “Because the newbies have been coming around since yesterday.”

Their conversation catches my attention. “They’re definitely not following instructions,” the first woman mutters, her voice taut with an underlying tension. “How hard is it to stick to the golden rule . . . blend in?”

Laughter bubbles from the other woman, warm and rich, sending a shiver of electricity skittering along my spine. I shudder, closing my eyes to steady myself. “How can they blend in when they look like they’re children from the divine? Or one of those sculptors, like Michelangelo, Donatello, or—”

“Are we now naming Ninja Turtles, Wren?” her companion interrupts, teasing her.

Wren tosses her head, a cascade of auburn curls catching the soft lighting in the room. “No. I’m just saying they’re too pretty, too polished . . . too perfect not to draw attention. Their type doesn’t blend in. They never do.”

Laughter sparks inside me. This woman is wrong if she thinks my brothers or sisters are perfect. We Thorndales are imperfect at best. A quilt of flaws stitched together by our father’s blood and a history that might get us all killed.

Of course we can’t blend in easily in this town. Everyone knows each other. If anyone asks me, we would’ve been better off in some big city. This is all Callahan’s fault. He’s the one who made the impartial decision to uproot us from our lives in the name of saving us.

He claims someone is after us—Thorndales. That whoever tried to kill him two nights ago is trying to eliminate all of us. I doubt it. He’s an FBI agent. There’s no doubt that there are a lot of criminals who’re seeking his demise.

“Are we amusing you?” Wren swivels around, her beautiful brown eyes widening as they take in my features, piecing together the unsaid. There’s a glimmer of recognition in her gaze, a silent acknowledgment that I’m one of those “too beautiful to exist in this town” people.

“Why not? After all, my family and I seem to be your favorite topic of conversation,” I respond.

As the other woman turns around, I instantly recognize her—Regina Banks. She’s the sheriff’s daughter and part of my new identity. According to what we were told during orientation, she’s my long-lost cousin.

My lips curve into a smirk. “Ah, here’s Cousin Gina,” I drawl, infusing my words with a rich layer of sarcasm. “How are you, cuz?”

Regina blinks, processing my words. Seizing the moment, I add a dash more discomfort. “Shouldn’t you introduce me to your charming friend?”

Regina composes herself, tightly pressing her lips together before she responds, “Of course, Wren, meet . . .”

“Drake,” I interject with a hint of amusement. “You always confuse me with Magnus. Not sure why. I’m three years older and better looking than him.”

Regina scoffs, wearing a smirk. “Maybe because both of you are arrogant as fuck?” She then gestures toward Wren. “Wren, this is one of my cousins, Drake. Drake, meet one of my best friends.”

I make an entire production of taking her hand and brushing my lips against her skin. “Tout le plaisir est pour moi.”

Big mistake. Big. Mistake.

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