Chapter 5 Sam
Sam
I stared at my phone. Its glow cut into the darkness, glaring artificial and sharp against the night. The texts sat there in a perfect little stack. My boss was waiting.
I might as well reply. After all, the damage was already done, wasn’t it? Yep, I’d ruined a perfectly mind-blowing hookup by checking my damn phone during the afterglow.
As I wondered what the hell I’d been thinking, another text popped up.
I’ll just assume you don’t care about this deadline.
It wasn’t simple anger that boiled in my gut—it was fury. My boss could take his deadline and shove it. With cold deliberation, I powered off the phone. It was too little, too late. But I refused to let my job take anything else from me tonight.
I brushed off the leaves that clung to my skin and pulled on my clothes. My body still felt warm, but the night air pressed in and cooled the heat Faelan had left behind. Like the forest itself wanted to erase what had happened here.
Now I was being dramatic.
It was just sex…great sex. Amazing sex, even. But it’s not like I thought we’d end up splitting utilities and shopping for throw pillows. Right?
Oh, who was I kidding? The woods felt empty without Faelan there. So even though I was no longer salivating over sourdough, I headed back to the cabins.
The celebration had only grown louder in my absence. People clustered around the fire pit, passing food and wine, leaning in close. The guitar had made its rounds, and whoever had it now was strumming just slightly out of tune. Further off, a few people were dancing in a circle.
The air smelled like bonfires and springtime, and for a cult, the members were acting remarkably chill.
Though off to one side, Mr. Bathrobe was still at it.
I barely heard Randy’s voice over the music and the hum of conversation, but his posture was tense, and his movements were too forceful. He was earnestly waving a bundle of dried herbs in the air, but one one was joining him in his little ritual.
One of the older women at the gathering gave him an indulgent nod before turning back to her drink. Another person laughed in the middle of his speech, clearly engaged in another conversation entirely.
Randy’s face fell.
I was too busy feeling sorry for myself to feel sorry for him.
“Sam.”
I turned toward Callie’s voice.
She sat at one of the wooden picnic tables. Her face was flushed from wine, and her curls were escaping the braid she’d attempted.
She wasn’t alone.
The woman in the oversized sweater sat beside her, close, leaning in just enough that I could tell she didn’t want to be anywhere other than where she was right now.
As if I didn’t feel dumb enough already for checking my phone.
Callie waved me over. “Come sit. Meet Bethany.”
I shook my head. “You’re good. I shouldn’t intrude.”
Callie scoffed. “You’re not intruding. Sit.” She patted the bench beside her.
I hesitated.
Bethany gestured for me to come join them already. “Seriously. We’re just talking about how Callie has no survival instincts.”
Callie laughed. “It’s a fair assessment.”
I sank onto the bench with a sigh. “So, Bethany,” I said, “has Callie told you about her villain origin story? Because technically, I met her through her brother, which sounds like a curse, but miraculously, it turned out well in the end.”
Bethany’s eyes flicked between us, intrigued. “That bad?”
I nodded. “That bad. But Callie’s nothing like him. Honestly, she’s the only good thing that ever came out of that whole mess.”
Callie grinned. “You know I love being the lone bright spot in your trauma.”
“You should.” I took the Solo cup of box wine she pushed toward me. “You’ve earned it.”
The two of them resumed their easy conversation, and I tried to join in, but my heart wasn’t in it.
Callie looked happy—the kind of happy that made it impossible not to root for them.
I wanted to be happy for her.
And I was.
But my chest ached anyway, because the difference was clear—the difference between what was happening here beside me and what had just happened in the woods.
Callie and Bethany were starting something solid. Something deliberate and careful, full of laughter and lingering glances and choosing each other over and over again.
And me?
I’d fumbled whatever had just happened with Faelan so completely that I wouldn’t get another chance to do it right.
Why hadn’t I just let that damn phone ring?
I was staring into my bad wine and marinating in my lousy decision when Randy startled us all with something that could only be classified as an invocation.
“We call upon the Green Man to grace us with his presence and his wisdom.” The robed “elder” stood by the bonfire like the Statue of Liberty, but instead of a torch in his raised hand, he held a bundle of herbs, or maybe ragweed.
Callie sighed, already exasperated. “Oh, for the love of—he’s really not letting this go.”
Bethany smirked. “I admire the commitment.”
“What’s a Green Man?” I asked, hoping that aliens weren’t on the agenda now.
Bethany leaned in, resting her elbows on the table.
“The Green Man is an ancient nature spirit. He’s a symbol of growth, renewal, the cycle of life.
All across Europe, you see his face carved into stone in old churches, hidden in architecture.
It’s a reminder that nature is always there, even when we try to build over it. ”
“Like a pagan god?”
“Not exactly a god. More like…a guardian. A spirit of the land. The connection between us and everything that grows.”
I knocked the words around in my mind as I stared out at the trees. The wind shifted, rustling the leaves, and some buried part of me reached toward the forest, listening.
Randy, undeterred by the absolute lack of interest from anyone, lifted his arms even higher. “Green Man! Hear us! Answer us!”
The trees did not reply.
Bethany sighed and shook her head. “He’s gonna strain something.”
Callie laughed into her wine, but I’d stopped listening. I was busy thinking about the way the earth itself seemed to breathe tonight—the way the leaves rustled high above us, whispering secrets I wasn’t meant to understand.
And then I saw him.
Faelan stood at the edge of the gathering, just outside the firelight, watching.
Something about him made the night feel sharper. The campfire shadows stretched long behind him as the fire caught in his eyes in a way that made my breath snag. He looked almost amused.
I barely had time to process that before Randy’s voice rang out, as loud and confident as ever.
“Green Man! I invoke you!”
A few people at the tables chuckled into their wine. Others ignored him completely.
Faelan, though? He was actually enjoying the spectacle.
“Faelan!” Randy turned abruptly, face lighting up. “Where’ve you been? Come, join us.” Randy eagerly waved him into the clearing. “We’re summoning the Green Man tonight. Properly, this time. I’ve refined the ritual—no more half-hearted drumming. We’re doing this with intention.”
Faelan blinked slowly, like he was weighing his response. “Intention is a powerful thing,” he mused.
Randy took that as encouragement. “Exactly! The others don’t take it seriously, but I can tell you get it—nature, the old ways, the need to connect with something bigger than ourselves.”
Faelan’s expression didn’t change. “And what do you expect to happen?”
Randy held up a badly hand-carved wooden symbol, some attempt at an ancient sigil. “If the Green Man is listening, he’ll make his presence known.”
Something flickered behind Faelan’s eyes. “You believe that?”
“Of course.”
Faelan nodded once. “Then I suppose we’ll see if he answers.”
Meanwhile, Callie was staring at me.
Hard.
Watching the way I looked at Faelan.
I dropped my gaze to my cup and tried to act normal.
“Uh-huh,” she said, not fooled in the slightest. “So when were you gonna tell me that you and Faelan already hooked up?”
I nearly choked on my wine. “Geez, Callie—lower your voice.”
She didn’t. “Am I wrong?”
I couldn’t even lie. The heat crawling up my neck would have betrayed me. Even in the dark.
Bethany leaned forward, clearly intrigued. “Wait—really?”
I groaned and dropped my head into my hands. “I didn’t think it was worth announcing to the entire gathering, thanks.”
Callie looked entirely too pleased with herself. “Oh my god. You never do random hookups. Was it good?”
“Callie.”
She gave me a smug grin. “It was good.”
“That is not the point.”
Bethany tilted her head, glancing toward Faelan, who stood by the bonfire now, looking impossibly at ease while Randy flailed his way through the ritual. “So why aren’t you over there talking to him?”
I froze.
Callie nudged me with her shoulder. “Yeah. Why aren’t you?”
“Because,” I said automatically.
Callie arched a brow. “Because?”
Because I don’t know what he wants. Because I don’t know what I want. Because I can still feel his hands on me—still feel him inside me, driving me to peak after peak—and I don’t know how to go back to normal after that.
“I don’t want to be weird about it.”
Callie snorted. “You’re already being weird about it. Are you just gonna hang back like a wallflower at a junior high dance when you could be dancing with the guy who clearly makes your heart go pitter-patter?”
Bethany nodded. “If you’re thinking about him this much, you might as well talk to him.”
Callie gave me a pointed look. “Unless you’re scared.”
“I’m not scared.”
Callie grabbed my solo cup and nudged me toward the fire. “Then go.”