In the rugged embrace of Nova Scotia’s rolling hills, where the air carries the whisper of pine needles and the promise of second chances, Sullivan’s Crossing has emerged as more than a television series—it’s a beacon for the weary, a heartfelt homage to healing, homecoming, and the quiet miracles that reshape a life. Premiering on The CW in October 2023 and now streaming all three seasons on Netflix as of August 2025, this Canadian romantic drama—adapted from Robyn Carr’s beloved novels by the same team behind Virgin River—has captured hearts with its tapestry of tangled family ties, small-town secrets, and the slow burn of rediscovered love. At its emotional core stands Chad Michael Murray, the 43-year-old heartthrob turned heartfelt everyman whose portrayal of Cal Jones isn’t just a performance; it’s a profound personal pivot. In a candid revelation that has fans reaching for tissues and rosaries alike, Murray disclosed that landing the role of Cal was no stroke of serendipity—it was the answer to two years of fervent nightly prayers, a divine intervention that allowed him to prioritize fatherhood over fleeting fame. “It was a very specific, very detailed prayer that I put out every single night,” he shared in a heartfelt interview, his voice thick with gratitude. “And then came Sullivan’s Crossing, and here we are going into season 4. It’s awesome. It’s crazy.” For Murray, who once embodied the brooding bad boys of early-2000s teen dramas, this series isn’t merely a job—it’s the purpose he prayed for, a miraculous mooring in the stormy seas of Hollywood.

The genesis of Sullivan’s Crossing unfolds like one of its own plotlines: a tale of return and redemption set against the breathtaking backdrop of Scalp Point, Nova Scotia—a fictional haven inspired by the real-life locales that Carr so vividly evoked in her books. At the helm is executive producer Roma Roth, whose track record with Carr adaptations (Virgin River‘s cozy conundrums) made her the natural choice to helm this intimate saga. Premiering amid The CW’s post-WB shuffle, the series quickly became a sleeper hit, blending the pulse of medical drama with the warmth of small-town romance. Season 1, which drew 1.2 million viewers for its debut, introduced us to Dr. Maggie Sullivan (Morgan Kohan, luminous in her breakout role), a high-powered neurosurgeon whose world crumbles when her business partner is indicted for fraud, dragging her into a negligence suit that strips her of her scalpel-sharp confidence. Fleeing the fluorescent glare of Boston’s hospitals, Maggie retreats to Sullivan’s Crossing—the rustic campground her estranged father, Sully (Scott Patterson, channeling Luke Danes’ gruff charm from Gilmore Girls), has stubbornly tended for decades. What begins as a reluctant refuge spirals into a revelation: amid leaky cabins, bonfire confessions, and the relentless rhythm of rural life, Maggie unearths buried family fractures, forges unlikely bonds, and rediscovers the roots she thought she’d outgrown.

Enter Cal Jones, the enigmatic handyman played with understated intensity by Murray—a newcomer to Sullivan’s Crossing whose quiet competence masks a well of personal loss. Cal isn’t the flashy leading man of Murray’s youth; he’s a man adrift, a former military medic haunted by the ghosts of deployments and a divorce that left him hollowed out. When Maggie arrives, all sharp edges and city skepticism, their paths collide in a spark of friction: she needs a plumber for Sully’s ramshackle retreat, he needs a reason to stay put. What blooms is a slow-simmering romance laced with levity and longing—shared hikes through fog-shrouded forests, midnight repairs under starlit skies, and tentative touches that hint at healing for two souls scarred by circumstance. “Cal’s a fixer—not just pipes and porches, but people,” Murray explained in a People exclusive, his drawl softened by reflection. “He’s me in a lot of ways: steady, searching, learning to let love leak through the cracks.” The chemistry between Kohan and Murray crackles like dry kindling: her fiery intellect bouncing off his gentle resolve, their banter a balm against the series’ heavier heartaches. Kohan, a Toronto native whose poised portrayal earned her a 2024 Canadian Screen Award nod, shines as the prodigal daughter grappling with forgiveness, her Maggie’s arc a masterclass in measured metamorphosis—from armored achiever to open-hearted wanderer.

The miracle of Murray’s involvement, however, transcends the script—it’s a story of faith forged in the fire of fatherhood. At 43, the actor who once commanded teen screens as the smirking Lucas Scott in One Tree Hill (2003-2012) and the brooding Austin Ames in A Cinderella Story (2004) has traded tabloid tempests for tandem strollers. Married to actress Sarah Roemer since 2015, Murray is dad to three: Harrington “Riggs” (born 2015), Marlowe (2018), and Jones (2021)—a brood that reshaped his red-carpet runs into bedtime rituals. The early 2020s were a wilderness for him: a string of indie flicks (Fortress, Viral) and guest spots (Riverdale, The Bold Type) that kept the lights on but left him longing for legacy. “I was typecast as the troubled hunk—the guy who breaks hearts, not builds homes,” he admitted in a Parade sit-down, his eyes crinkling with self-deprecating warmth. “But after Jones arrived, I hit my knees. Every night, for two years, I’d pray: ‘Lord, send me a role that’s family-first—a show in a beautiful place, where I can be the dad my kids need, not the absentee star.'” The plea was precise: no grueling L.A. shoots, no gratuitous grit; something wholesome, heartfelt, close to home.

Then, like manna from the Maritimes, Sullivan’s Crossing arrived. Casting calls landed in early 2023, and Murray’s audition tape—a raw read of Cal’s confessional monologue about loss and letting go—sealed the deal. “It was like the universe exhaled,” he marveled, recounting the moment his agent called with the offer. “Not just a job—a gift. Filming in Halifax? That’s paradise: ocean breezes, family flights on weekends, kids running wild on set. And the story? It’s healing in human form.” The location shoot in Nova Scotia’s verdant valleys—standing in for the fictional Scalp Point—became a balm for Murray’s nomadic soul. Halifax’s harbor views and hiking trails mirrored Cal’s restorative arc, allowing the actor to blur the lines between page and personal. “I’d bring the boys to craft services—Riggs chopping wood with the grips, Marlowe sketching Sully’s campfire. It wasn’t work; it was worship.” His faith, a quiet cornerstone since recommitting to Christianity at 25 after a youthful detour into Hollywood’s haze, infused the set: morning devotionals with the crew, Bible verses scribbled on call sheets. “God’s got a sense of humor,” he chuckled. “I prayed for purpose, and He sent me a handyman with a hammer and a heart. Cal fixes what’s broken—inside and out. And in playing him, I fixed a few things in me.”

Murray’s Cal is a character cut from the same cloth as the man himself: rugged reliability wrapped in reluctant romance. A local with a military past, Cal arrives at Sullivan’s Crossing seeking solace after a divorce that left him questioning his compass. His days are spent mending fences and mending souls—tinkering with Sully’s leaky roof while trading war stories over whiskey, or guiding Maggie through her emotional minefield with a steady hand and a sly smile. The role demands depth Murray delivers in spades: a quiet scene in Episode 4, where Cal confesses his deployment demons by a crackling fire, his voice cracking like embers, had viewers DMing Murray en masse with their own tales of trauma. “Fans say Cal’s their mirror—the guy who stays when the storm hits,” he reflected. “That’s the miracle: art as anchor.” Off-screen, Murray’s mirrored that ethos: hosting family movie nights with Gilmore Girls reruns (a nod to co-star Patterson’s Luke), teaching Riggs guitar licks from his One Tree Hill days, and channeling his prayers into philanthropy—donating Season 1 proceeds to Nova Scotia youth shelters.

The series’ ensemble elevates its emotional ecosystem, a rich weave of redemption and resilience. Scott Patterson’s Sully is a grizzled anchor—his gruff exterior hiding a heart softened by regret, his chemistry with Kohan a masterclass in muted reconciliation. Kohan, stepping out from The Porter‘s shadows, imbues Maggie with a fierce fragility: her journey from scalpel-wielding surgeon to soul-searching sojourner is the series’ spine, her chemistry with Murray a slow-simmering spark that ignites without scorching. Andrea Menard shines as Frank Cranebear, the wise Indigenous elder whose cultural wisdom grounds the Crossing’s chaos, while Morgan Kohan’s aunties—Lindura and Tom Jackson—add layers of familial fire. Recurring turns from Lindsey Morgan as Maggie’s sassy bestie and Reid Price as the comic-relief deputy inject levity, ensuring the drama never drowns in its depths.

Production on Sullivan’s Crossing was a love letter to its locales, filmed over six months in Nova Scotia’s unspoiled splendor—Halifax’s harbors doubling for the Crossing’s campgrounds, Lunenburg’s colorful facades framing romantic rambles. Roth’s vision, honed on Virgin River‘s verdant vibe, blended Carr’s cozy conflicts with cinematic sweep: drone shots soaring over fog-kissed fjords, intimate interiors lit by lantern glow. The score, a folk-infused fusion by composer Jeff Cardoni, weaves fiddle flourishes with orchestral swells, underscoring the series’ theme of mending what’s mired. Challenges abounded—a nor’easter delaying Episode 2’s bridge scene, SAG-AFTRA strikes pushing the 2024 hiatus—but the cast’s camaraderie conquered: Murray leading cast karaoke nights with Gilmore Girls tunes, Kohan hosting “healing hikes” for the crew. “Nova Scotia’s magic seeped into us,” Patterson quipped. “We didn’t just film healing—we lived it.”

Since its CW bow, Sullivan’s Crossing has crossed into cult status: Season 1 averaged 1.5 million viewers, Season 2 spiked 20% with Cal-Maggie shippers, and Season 3’s August 2025 Netflix drop rocketed it to #2 globally, trailing only Stranger Things reruns. Social media’s a sanctuary of shares: #SullivansCrossing trends with 800,000 posts, fans recreating Cal’s campfire confessions in TikTok duets, petitions for a U.S. spin-off hitting 50,000 signatures. Critics crown it “Virgin River with vertebrae”—The Hollywood Reporter praising its “soulful slow-burn,” Entertainment Weekly hailing Murray’s “mature metamorphosis from teen dream to tender dad.” Emmy whispers swirl for Kohan (Lead Actress) and Murray (Supporting), while Carr’s novels fly off shelves, up 300% in sales.

For Murray, the miracle manifests in margins: mornings with his boys before call times, evenings scripting bedtime stories laced with Cal’s wisdom. “I prayed for purpose, and God sent a prayer answered in plaid shirts and pine trees,” he muses. “Sullivan’s Crossing isn’t a set—it’s my salvation.” As Season 4 lenses (filming in spring 2026), teasing Cal’s proposal and Maggie’s maternity, the series stands as testament: sometimes, the role you land isn’t landing at all—it’s lifting off, wings unfurled by faith and family. In a town of transients, Murray’s found his mooring: a crossing not of roads, but of reckonings. And for fans adrift in their own tempests, it’s a map home—imperfect, improbable, profoundly purposeful.