Chapter 10

Chapter Ten

Clark

VOICES SPILL INTO THE hall the moment I enter the lodge house. They’re coming from somewhere nearby. Maybe the cafeteria. Or perhaps one of those little side rooms I haven’t had any reason to explore yet.

I’m grateful either way. It suggests everyone else is too busy to notice me as I climb the stairs to the third floor. I wait outside my door, listening, and open it when only silence greets me on the other side. Still, I breathe a sigh of relief when I find the room empty. I toss my yoga mat on the floor and jump into the shower as quickly as I can.

The warm water crashes over me, washing away the lingering scent of River’s body and my own pleasure, scrubbing away those kisses, those touches, those soft words beside the lake.

I shiver and turn the water up so hot it scalds. Good. I need it to strip this night off of me. I need the water to take what I’ve just done and flush it down the drain — mostly because I don’t think I’m strong enough to do it myself.

I lean against the wall of the shower, letting the water pour over me as I gingerly run my fingers along my lips. River lingers there, warm and steady, hungry for me. The memory of the encounter fuzzes around the edges like a half-remembered dream. There’s no way we actually did that right there next to the lake. There’s no way I let him do that. But even the denial stirs the heat that’s awakened within me, and I quickly steer my thoughts elsewhere.

I turn off the shower, dragging myself out and toweling off roughly. Clean and wearing fresh clothes, I feel a little more like myself. I brush my teeth and get into bed, opening my work laptop. The comforting ping of several new emails settles my nerves. This is probably what Megan and Evan and everyone else has assumed I’ve been doing all night. At least, I hope this is what they assumed. I can’t have them thinking I had a private yoga lesson with River, let alone that I took things well, well past a yoga lesson, but the deception weighs down my shoulders. Does Megan believe this is all my life amounts to, emails and meetings and work? If I was in her position, I’d pity someone who spends their vacation this way. Is that how she and the others feel about me?

Even worse, are they right?

I never considered that before now. It’s like touching River beside that lake unlocked something lurking inside me, something I’d been holding back until he showed up. What is it about him that makes me lose myself? Why does my whole life feel like a lie when he hints at a different possibility?

I refuse to call my whole life a waste, however. I have a good career, a nice apartment, financial security. My retirement accounts look way better than most people my age, but what is it all for when I can’t remember the last time I watched a sunset?

Answering emails pulls me into a safer headspace. I fall into the comforting boredom of responding to questions about meetings and website updates. Technically, I set up an out of office email this week, but everyone expects me to respond regardless. I’m the guy who never takes a vacation, the guy who’s always on call, the guy who hasn’t taken a sick day in five years. Why wouldn’t I answer emails tonight? Certainly not because a young, attractive yoga teacher dragged me out to a lake to seduce me.

I huff a harsh laugh at myself, physically shaking my head even though I’m alone. How did things go so far off track so quickly? Both of us could get in trouble for what we did, though the stakes are much higher for River. Even so, he seemed far less afraid than me. And the way he touched me…

A trembles quakes through me. I shut my laptop, giving up on emails. I’m not going to be able to focus with River’s touch lingering against my skin. He left my body and mind in chaos, a chaos I haven’t felt in years.

If I’m being honest, it’s kind of nice…

WE DON’T HAVE ANY yoga on our schedule during the second day of the retreat. We aren’t here simply to admire nature. In order to get this approved, Hannah had to show there was tangible business value.

I don’t know what tangible business value a hike provides, but apparently it’s enough. After breakfast, we lace up our sneakers so one of the retreat instructors, a short, lively woman, can lead us on a hike.

This is Washington State, so naturally we find ourselves heading uphill almost the moment we step onto the path behind the lodge house. I get the sense we’re heading away from the lake, leaving the water at our backs as we climb winding switchbacks nestled among towering trees.

I’m huffing and puffing after a half hour of this, but Megan sidles up beside me regardless.

“Have fun last night?” she says.

I almost trip over a tree root snaking its way across the rocky path through the forest. “What?”

“No one knew where you were,” she says. “Were you doing doing something fun?”

She doesn’t know, right? She can’t possibly know. The question sounds innocent enough, nothing sinister or suspicious beneath the surface, but it comes out of nowhere. I do my best to match her casual tone, even with my heart thumping.

“I answered some emails.”

Megan huffs a sigh so powerful it leaves her breathless as we keep climbing the trail. Our co-workers snake out ahead of us, most of them farther up the path than us.

“Of course you did,” she says. “Clark, please.”

Her exasperation is strangely heartening. It means she believes me. It means I don’t sound like a complete wreck.

The trail turns steep, truly steep, so steep it precludes further prying into my evening. I’m grateful, even as my legs burn from climbing. Megan is huffing and puffing just as hard beside me, both of us putting our heads down until the ground suddenly levels out.

We find ourselves in a clearing at the very top of the trail. It pushes away the trees without warning. One moment, I’m staring down at my feet willing myself to keep walking, and the next I look up and discover nothing but clear sky all around me. The clearing is rocky, with only a few particularly hardy trees growing out of cracks between boulders of crumbling granite. The dirt path winds on, but after a few feet it turns into loose rock arranged roughly like stairs.

Megan and I follow those “stairs” to a flat area between clusters of rock. There’s a bit of cleared out dirt here, as well as low, scrubby plants. The wind whips across the hilltop, blowing hard with nothing to interrupt it. It cools the sticky sweat gathering inside my T-shirt from the walk. Our co-workers array themselves around us, everyone sitting on whatever clear spot they can find to enjoy the view and the sandwiches we carried up with us.

Megan takes me to one side of the clearing, a broad ledge looking out over the forest below. At first, I’m lost. Then I spot the lake like a blue stone set into the land. The trees are less dense there. I even see the clear space beside the water, the spot where our yoga class took place yesterday, the spot where I met up with River at night, the spot where he…

I cast my gaze down to my sandwich. The bread is crumbling in my hands. I didn’t realize I was crushing it while looking out at the lake.

“What a view,” Megan says beside me. “They made us work for it, but it was totally worth it.”

“It’s pretty,” I agree, head lowered. I might have fooled Megan on the way up here, but if I peer at that lake, the memories will be too strong and I’ll give myself away.

“Oh, hey, look at that,” Megan says. “I think there’s a yoga class going on.”

My head pops up before I can stop it. Megan is pointing, though I know exactly where to look without any assistance. My eyes go right to the bright jewel of the lake, right to the cleared out shore. We’re high enough that the people moving about on the grass are tiny blotches of color, but that doesn’t stop my heart from jolting as though from an electric shock. Most of the figures on the shore are sitting or standing in rows, but there’s one moving around, pacing among them.

It’s River.

It can’t be anyone else. He’s one of only two yoga instructors here, and the other is a small, slender woman. He must be leading the class. My heart beats as hard as it did during the final steep push up the hiking trail, except I’m standing still now, and have been for long enough for the sweat to dry off my skin. The sweat I break into this time is cold with fear.

I watch, incapable of looking away as River winds among his students. I don’t know why it didn’t occur to me that he’d have students besides us this week. Of course he will. He’ll work with everyone at this retreat, dozens of different people.

As I watch, he draws close to one of the students. Even from up here, I can tell he’s touching them, adjusting their hips the way he once adjusted mine.

A spike of something ugly and dark stabs into my chest. I’m crushing my sandwich again, but I can’t stop myself. Is this that easy for him? Can he touch me one night and move on the very next morning? He is young, after all. I knew that would be a problem. I knew there’d be misunderstandings. You can be nine years apart and never encounter issues like this.

I shake myself. What am I thinking? It was one encounter next to the lake. It was nothing. Of course he’s moving on. He’s beautiful. He can get anyone he wants. Men, women, whatever. There’s no reason he’d come back to some cringing old man like me.

I turn abruptly, so abruptly it startles Megan.

“What are you doing?” she asks.

“I want to check out the view from the other side,” I say.

She follows me, but when we look out over the sprawling, forested hillsides, I barely see them. I’m replaying that moment in my head, the moment when River touched his student down there by the lake. I shouldn’t be jealous. I’m not jealous. I just … I just need some clarity about what’s going on between us. Young people these days, they don’t think about relationships the way my generation did when we were twenty-three. Everything is a game to them. Nothing is real or serious.

Which is fine , by the way. I mean, it was one dry handjob. Plus, I don’t have time for anything serious. I don’t have time for a relationship. That’s why I’ve avoided them for so long. If anything is going to happen, however, even something casual, I need to get clarity about the boundaries. I have no choice in the matter. I have to find a way to talk to River about this. We both knew we were breaking the rules with what we did last night. If we have any hope of not getting caught (or maybe even doing it again, part of my brain suggests), we’ll have to be on the same page.

I need to get him alone.