Gathered By the Green Man

Chapter 1

Sam

Everyone claims that cacti are impossible to kill. Yet there I was, staring at the shriveled remains of my third attempt this year, just as my phone chimed with a calendar reminder: “Presentation Monday: Reimagining Urban Green Spaces.”

I rubbed a hand over my face, sighing. “Oh, Sam,” I sighed at my reflection in the window, “you’ve designed three award-winning eco-developments, but you’ve still managed to unalive a cactus.”

The irony wasn’t lost on me.

A glance at the time sent a fresh wave of irritation through me. I should be getting ready for that presentation. Instead, I was standing in my apartment, debating whether I had packed enough essentials for what was surely about to be the most unnecessary road trip of my life. All thanks to Callie.

Somehow, my BFF had managed to rope herself into a cult.

Okay, technically, she called it a spiritual retreat, but I wasn’t buying it.

Ever since she quit her marketing job last year, she’d been bouncing from one New Age community to the next—wellness retreats, sound baths, experimental mushroom therapy.

She was a chronic dabbler. But something about this latest endeavor felt different.

For starters, she wasn’t answering her phone.

And then there was her last text:

CALLIE: Babe. The spring equinox will be life-changing. You have to come. Stay a few days. Just…be open.

That’s the thing. I wasn’t “open.” I was too busy designing green spaces to traipse off and frolic in them.

But Callie was Callie, and despite her questionable life choices, she was still my best friend. I owed her. Even if it meant trekking into the middle of nowhere to stage a well-timed intervention.

We’d met years ago through her brother—my evil ex, the one I never spoke about—but we stayed friends long after I kicked him to the curb. It wasn’t her fault that he was a self-absorbed disaster, just like it wasn’t my fault I was too naive to see his manipulation for what it was.

Callie was the only good thing to come out of that relationship. We understood each other in a way that had nothing to do with him. She’d seen me through the breakup, through career wins and failures, through every crisis of self-doubt.

Now, she needed me…even if she didn’t know it yet.

I picked up the sad, brittle remains of my once-thriving cactus and turned it over in my hand.

A thing meant to survive anywhere, somehow failing under my care.

It crumbled between my fingers as I tossed it into the trash.

“Sorry, Kevin,” I sighed. Who knows why I even bothered to name them?

Maybe Callie was right. Maybe I was missing something.

Fine. A weekend. I could do a weekend. Get in, drag Callie back to civilization, and get out.

Three hours into the drive, my perfectly paved highway turned into winding, tree-choked backroads, and my phone’s GPS decided to start downloading an update, leaving the dot that represented my car frozen at the last intersection.

I double-checked Callie’s directions. Turn left at the old fire road, keep going until you see the crooked tree. If you think you’re lost, you’re almost there.

Super helpful.

The trees pressed in as I rounded another curve, and the shadows knit together overhead. The road narrowed, more weeds than asphalt now, and my cell signal blinked down to one bar.

A flicker in the rearview mirror—just a deer. Better there than in front of me, but still. Who on earth found all this nature relaxing?

I was just about ready to give up and call in a rescue drone when I spotted it: a tree bent nearly in half with a wooden sign nailed to it. The Morning Wood – Growth Begins Now.

I squinted. Did they…did they hear themselves?

No doubt Callie thought it was hilarious. I shook my head and kept driving.

Hopefully, the only thing standing at attention out here was the forest. It looked…normal. Rustic, sure, but not the kind of place that required an emergency extraction.

I pulled into a clearing where a handful of dusty Subarus and Jeeps were parked. A cluster of wooden cabins sat at the tree line, and a winding path led deeper into the woods, disappearing beneath a canopy of budding spring leaves.

And standing in the middle of it all, waiting for me like a smug golden retriever, was my best friend.

“Sam!”

As soon as I got out of the car she was already rushing toward me, arms open.

Her coppery curls bounced with each step, looking shampoo-commercial perfect…

until you looked closer and saw the odd twig poking out.

Her wide grin sparked equal parts of annoyance and relief.

Before I could protest, she crashed into me, and enveloped me in a hug that smelled like campfire smoke and patchouli.

“You came!” she beamed.

“Against my better judgment.”

She took me in—my sleek, all-weather hiking jacket, my very expensive eco-friendly boots that had never touched actual dirt—and snorted. “You look like a Patagonia ad. Were you expecting to summit Everest?”

“You tease me now,” I shot back. “But at least I won’t need you to pull off any ticks.”

Callie just laughed. “Come on, I have so much to show you!”

She grabbed my arm and started pulling me into the camp. I dug my heels in. “Not so fast. Where’s your phone? Why haven’t you answered any of my texts?”

Callie waved a dismissive hand. “Signal’s bad out here. And I’ve just been…present, you know?”

I did not know.

Before I could press further, a new voice interrupted.

“You must be Samantha.”

I turned, and my first impression was…bathrobe.

The man before me was wearing a long, earth-toned linen robe, belted at the waist with what I assumed was a repurposed curtain tie.

Maybe it was the facial hair that made him look like he’d just rolled out of bed.

He hadn’t shaved for weeks. So either his electric shaver was on the fritz, or he was trying to cultivate a beard.

And he was worse at facial hair than I was at houseplants.

“This,” Callie said proudly, “is Randy. One of our elders.”

Elder? The guy looked maybe forty.

Randy spread his arms in welcome. “Callie has told me all about you. We’re honored you’ve come to experience the energy of the equinox.”

“I’m actually just here for Callie,” I corrected.

Randy nodded, oblivious to my tone. “Understandable. Many who come do not yet realize the pull of the earth. But rest assured, nature always calls us home.”

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes.

Callie elbowed me. “At least pretend to be polite.”

Fine. I held out a hand. “Nice to meet you, Randy.”

Randy grasped it between both of his own and squeezed meaningfully. “May the roots of your journey grow deep.”

“Uh…thanks? Same to you?”

Randy didn’t let go right away, holding my hands like he was waiting for some deeper acknowledgment. When I finally pulled free, he beamed, completely unbothered.

“Come.” He gestured toward a nearby path. “The others are gathered in The Sacred Grove. You’ll feel its energy the moment you step inside.”

No doubt that’s what they all said before asking you to hand over your worldly possessions and join a commune.

The forest thickened around us and the trees pressed in tighter. The air carried the scent of something earthy and herbal, like burning sage mixed with damp moss. I braced for the moment we’d step into something truly bizarre. And then the undergrowth parted before us.

The Sacred Grove was not what I expected.

I’d envisioned ritual fires, ominous chanting, maybe a few unsettling symbols carved into trees. Instead, it looked more like…a potluck.

Long wooden tables were covered with mismatched ceramic dishes—salads, fruit, steaming pots of stew. A woman in a crocheted vest was refilling pitchers of lemonade. A guy was strumming an acoustic guitar.

It was less “sacrificial ceremony” and more “co-op farmers’ market.”

“Not quite what you imagined, huh?” Callie teased.

“No,” I admitted. “Where are the blood sacrifices?”

Callie smirked. “You joke, but wait until you try Yvonne’s fresh-baked sourdough. Now, that is a spiritual experience.”

I was still mentally recalibrating when my gaze snagged on someone across the clearing.

Unlike the others—who looked like a mix of lost Phish fans and ex-tech bros finding themselves—this man stood apart.

His dark, unruly hair fell in thick waves just past his shoulders, and he clearly had no trouble whatsoever cultivating a beard.

Mostly, though, what I noticed was that he was big.

Tall. Massive. Like he was built on a scale that made everything around him seem too small—people, spaces, the very idea of containment itself.

And then there were his eyes—startlingly green, even from where I stood. Too deep, too knowing. They settled on me like he’d been expecting me. Like he recognized me, though we’d never met.

Something in my chest did a weird tightening thing.

“Who’s that?” I asked before I could stop myself.

Callie followed my gaze and grinned. “That’s Faelan. He’s the one person here who won’t care that you showed up.”

I frowned. “Why?”

“Because he’s strange.”

“Strange how?”

Callie shot me a sideways look. “If you think my brother is rude, this guy’s another thing entirely.”

That caught my attention. She rarely brought up her brother, and when she did, it involved lots of swear words. “Meaning?”

She huffed out a breath. “Meaning, he doesn’t talk to people. Not really. Sticks around, does his own thing, and when he does open his mouth, it’s usually to make you feel like an idiot for asking a question in the first place.”

I looked back toward the trees where he’d disappeared. “Then why’s he here?”

Callie spread her arms in a vague, all-encompassing gesture. “Why is anyone here? To seek, to grow, to connect with the energy of the land—”

I cut her a flat look. “Callie.”

She sighed, dropping the theatrics. “I’m serious. No one really knows. Maybe he’s on the spectrum or something. Or he’s like a walking ley line, just channeling too much energy to function like the rest of us.”

That didn’t make sense, but neither did the way my mind kept circling back to the guy. I wasn’t attracted to him–obviously. He was too wild, too intense, and apparently a pretty lousy conversationalist.

But still, those piercing green eyes lingered in my mind, sharp as cut glass, like he’d seen straight through me in the half-second our gazes met.

I shook it off. Nope. Not attracted. Just…mildly unsettled. That was all.