Chapter 6

Chapter Six

Clark

LOOSE GRAVEL CRUNCHES under my car’s tires as I pull into a parking lot where logs mark each spot rather than neat painted lines on asphalt. There’s no asphalt to be found out here. Not a single drop of it. There’s nothing but gravel and trees and dirt paths winding away into the forest.

“Are you sure this is right?” I say.

“Of course I’m sure. It looks just like the website,” Megan says.

She insisted on carpooling with me to the retreat, and I don’t think it was to save on gas. I know she feared I’d bolt at the last minute. To be honest, I thought about it when my alarm went off this afternoon and I realized I was supposed to go pick her up. If I was late, she would have driven to my place herself, so eventually I dragged myself off the couch, grabbed the suitcase I’d packed the night before and hauled myself over to her place. Now, here we are, sitting in this dusty parking lot with the towering trees around it dropping all kinds of crap onto my car.

“Come on,” Megan says. “Don’t try to stall.”

I follow her out of my car, popping the trunk so we can grab our suitcases. We won’t need much beyond clothing and toiletries for the next week, but I stuffed my work laptop into my bag just in case. Megan would probably have a few things to say about that, so hopefully she’ll never know.

We wheel our bags noisily over the gravel and onto one of the paths. Fortunately, it hasn’t rained recently or the little wheels on the suitcases would stick in the mud. Today, it’s firm, packed down dirt, but this is Washington State. We definitely got lucky on that front. Seriously, did no one here think about these things? Or were they so fixated on an “all natural” experience that they overlooked basic conveniences for the sake of the aesthetic?

This is already feeling phony to me, even as the trees close in around us. In moments, they swallow up any sight of my car. I glance over my shoulder, but all I find is more trees, more green, more junk. It’s like we’ve marched off the edge of the world and into the middle of nowhere.

“Are you sure this is right?” I ask.

“Yes, isn’t it gorgeous?” Megan says. “Ah, the air smells so good out here. You don’t realize how polluted the city is until you get into nature.”

I, for one, could go for some city smells about now. We arrived in the evening, and though the days are getting longer as we move deeper into spring, the trees cast a deep shadow over the whole world. The temperature drops, and the only sound I detect is me and Megan trundling along. There’s no cars, no voices, no hum of electricity, absolutely nothing but the damn trees.

Finally, we pop free of the forest. The trail deposits us at a clearing where some of the trees have been cut down to make room for a huge, multi-story structure. It’s like a mansion in the middle of the forest, with several windows framed with green shutters, a massive porch wrapping around it and wings that stretch back behind it for even more rooms.

“Ah, it’s so cute,” Megan squeals. “Oh my God, I can’t believe we get to stay here for the next week. This is heaven.”

I strategically don’t respond to that. Megan leads me across the grass, which is even harder to roll a suitcase through, and up a couple garishly green steps to the front door. At least we find electricity and running water inside. I was starting to get worried we’d be living by firelight for the next week.

The main room of the house (or is it a hotel? A lodge? I truly don’t know what to call this thing) seems to be some sort of reception room. A broad hallway stretches before us, and a desk sits to one side. There’s a woman at the desk who greets us.

“Welcome to Lakeview Retreat,” she says. “Could I have your names please?”

“We’re with the Demarco Group,” Megan supplies. “Megan and Clark.”

“Ah, Hannah’s group?”

“That’s right.”

The woman looks us up on a computer and slides two keys attached to wooden keychains onto the desk. Each bears a number as well as a key.

“Those will be your rooms,” the woman says. “You can get settled in, then join the rest of your group downstairs. Tonight will be informal, but we hope that enjoying a meal together will help everyone feel more comfortable.”

I take my key without comment. 301. I presume that means floor three, room one, but there’s no elevator in sight, so I have to haul my suitcase up creaking wooden stairs. Megan stops on floor two, and she narrows her eyes at me when she does.

“Don’t hide in your room,” she says. “If I don’t see you downstairs in the next half hour, I’m going to come banging on your door.”

I roll my eyes. “Relax. I’m here, aren’t I?”

“That doesn’t mean you won’t try running away. I know you, Clark.”

I can’t really argue with that. I’ve already thought about whether I might sneak out and drive home at some point. Megan could get a ride with someone else, I’m sure. And really, would anyone notice I was gone?

I don’t say any of that, offering a placating nod instead before I drag my bag up a second flight of stairs in order to reach floor three. I’m the first door off the landing, but when I unlock it, there’s already another suitcase inside. Right. We have to share rooms. Of course. I think I got stuck with Evan, the HR guy Megan always invites out to lunch. At least we sort of know each other. It could be worse, I assume, though I struggle to think of how as I wheel my suitcase into a narrow room that feels cramped with just a bathroom and two beds inside it. There’s not even a television. There’s nothing but the bathroom, the beds, two nightstands and the sliding glass door leading out to the balcony.

Evan leans on the balcony railing, apparently enjoying the monotone scenery. I don’t know what there is to enjoy. It’s just trees, trees and more trees in every direction. I knew that lake on the flyer was bullshit.

Evan startles when he notices me setting my suitcase on the open bed. The sliding door hisses as he pulls it back to let himself in.

“Hey, man,” he says. “You okay with that bed?”

I shrug. “They’re both the same, right?”

“Yeah, but I don’t know if you mind being farther from the balcony or not.”

“Makes no difference.”

It really doesn’t. If anything, it’ll keep me from being annoyed by the sunlight coming in in the morning.

Evan settles on the edge of his bed.

“This place is pretty nice,” he says. “I have to admit, I was skeptical about all this team building stuff, but if it means I get to hang out in a beautiful place like this for a week, I could get on board.”

“It’s wasteful,” I mutter.

Evan laughs. “I guess. My wife is annoyed that I’ll be gone so long, and I’m sure I’m not the only one in that position, but it’s nice to get away once in a while. The time will pass quickly.”

Easy for him to say. He isn’t dreading absolutely every stupid second of this stupid exercise. I hold that back. Evan seems into this whole thing, so I’ll only antagonize him by speaking up, and just about the only thing that could make this any worse is antagonizing a guy I have to share a room with for an entire week.

I open my suitcase so I can set my toiletries in the bathroom. I don’t have much besides my electric toothbrush, the clippers for my beard and some deodorant. I leave the clothes in my bag and take out my laptop while I have a chance, plugging it into an outlet beside the bed and opening it up to see if I can get onto their Wi-Fi. I can (the password is, of course, “trees123”), but the connection is shit, and I barely manage to get through a couple emails before Evan interrupts.

“Hey, we aren’t supposed to be working,” he says.

“It’s just emails.”

Evan rolls his eyes. “HR, remember? I’m not gonna let you get away with working all week.”

Oh, great. I thought I might have gotten off lucky getting a roommate I sort of know, but it seems Evan is almost as bad as Megan.

“Why don’t we head downstairs?” Evan says. “I hear they have a buffet set up. Besides, we’re supposed to meet everyone, right?”

I doubt he’s going to let me worm my way out of this one, so I give in, reluctantly closing my laptop. I allow Evan to usher me out of our shared room and back down those three flights of stairs. The moment we return to that broad entry hall, conversation bubbles up, a low din emanating from one of the rooms farther down. I follow Evan down the hall. We take a right at the end, heading into one of the wings branching off from the main building. At the end of this hall, double doors stand open, allowing us into a massive and brightly lit cafeteria.

Round tables cluttered with chairs fill the space. There’s a café at the back where people line up with trays, snagging pizza, drinks, fruit, pasta — whatever they could want to eat. It’s all included in the deal, so Evan heads right for the food. I dutifully join him, but I can’t muster much enthusiasm for a meal. I heap some pasta onto a plate and grab a water bottle I plan to hang onto for later. Then Evan locates the rest of our team.

The conversation is already well underway when we join our co-workers. I sit back and ignore it, pushing pasta around my plate. This feels like a high school lunchroom, and I left high school behind a long, long time ago. Hell, I’ve already had my ten-year reunion for college , let alone high school. I have no interest in the chatter, the noise, the fake camaraderie. All I want to do is put my head down and get through this next week as unscathed as possible.

Megan, I am seriously going to kill you for this , I grumble to myself.

Luckily, no one is talking to me, but that doesn’t mean I go unnoticed. Because only a few minutes later, a hand lands on my shoulder.

I startle, almost jumping up out of my seat. Some of my co-workers are staring past me, eyebrows raised. Come to think of it, all of my co-workers are sitting in front of me, so who the hell could possibly have their hand on my shoulder?

I turn slowly, the realization dawning even before I look up at the (thankfully not shirtless) yoga teacher from the cat café. He’s smiling down at me, his gray eyes so pale they’re like crystal, his blue hair spilling loose past his shoulders. Was his smile that charming three weeks ago? Heat tries to crawl up my neck, but I shove it down as the definitely handsome but definitely young teacher looks at me like no one else exists in this entire crowded forest-mansion.

“I’m glad you made it,” he says. He doesn’t raise his voice, yet it feels like the whole world hushes so I can hear him. “I’m really looking forward to working with you.”

He doesn’t so much as glance at my co-workers. With a quick squeeze, he lets go of my shoulder and wanders away, presumably greeting other students, but the warmth and weight of his hand lingers on my shoulder, and that heat I shoved down simmers somewhere deep inside me.

This is going to be one hell of a long week.