Chapter 7
Sierra
Ican’t sleep.
Partly because it’s far too early in the evening. Usually, I’m wide awake and working around this time, but I already checked, and the Wi-Fi signal isn’t conducive to work.
That’s probably because they want to enforce a technology detox so everyone can focus on their healing.
Stupid.
I can heal just fine with a good Wi-Fi signal.
At least they didn’t take my phone, so there’s that.
I stare at the ceiling, wide awake, replaying everything that just happened. In less than twenty hours, I’ve met my ex, cried in the arms of one stranger, and then got into bed with a different stranger.
Great.
This isn’t uncommon for me. Once upon a time, I would’ve called that a Saturday night. But I’ve worked hard not to be that person anymore. I thought I wasn’t that person anymore. I thought I’d changed… maybe even grown up a little.
Yet here we are.
It’s Reid’s fault. Seeing him again threw everything off and dragged me right back into my old, destructive habits. I need to get out of here.
You’d think all this would exhaust me, but it doesn’t. My mind races, jumping from one thought to another, one memory to the next.
Reid is here.
He’s running this “wellness retreat” place, pretending he’s some kind of spiritual guru, and his business partner is a hot chef I just slept with. This is insane.
A knock on the door cuts through my thoughts.
“Coming.” I push off the bed and head for the door, assuming it’s Luke making good on his promise to bring me food.
But when I open it, the thank-you dies on my tongue.
Reid gives me a half-apologetic smile. “Luke mentioned you were hungry.”
Damn you, Luke.
I wasn’t expecting that betrayal, and it irritates me more than it should. Not that I asked him to keep Reid away from me, but still…
It’s a good reminder. The only person I can rely on is myself.
“You don’t have any food on you,” I point out, eyeing his empty hands.
“Yeah. I thought you might want to have dinner with us in the dining room.”
“You thought wrong. If I wanted to have dinner with you, I would have said so.”
“Really? That’s a shame. Bertha Lowenstein heard you were here and wanted to see you.”
My temper flares. Of course he told her. Of course he’s using her to get me there.
And the worst part? It works.
Because I find I do want to see her. Aside from anything else, I want to know what he’s done to her.
Maybe if I confront him in front of her, it’ll break whatever bullshit spell he’s woven around her.
Also, I want to see this place in action—see how he runs it, how he pulls people in. Makes them believe they’re magically being fixed.
He’s changed. The Reid I knew was restless, sharp-edged, always looking over his shoulder. Angry or amused, but never calm. Beneath it all, there was always that deep, buried pain.
We fought more than we got along. Some days I hated him. Other days he was my best friend. It was chaos—addictive, destructive, impossible to walk away from.
But this version of him? Calm. Grounded. Easy-going.
Is it real?
Or is it just a part of some kind of act?
My curiosity builds, and I hate that he can see it. A small, knowing smile appears on his face that makes me want to refuse just to wipe it off.
But I’m only here for one night. I might as well find out what’s going on. After all, that’s why I came all this way in the first place.
Ten minutes. That’s all he gets.
Maybe twenty.
“Fine,” I say.
To his credit, he doesn’t smile.
He steps back and gestures. “After you.”
This feels like a mistake. Still, I sigh and step out.
He falls into step beside me, matching my pace. The silence isn’t as tense as before, but it’s not easy either. Too many things unsaid.
“So,” I say, “you’re a spiritual guru now?”
“I wouldn’t say guru. I practice Reiki and mindfulness techniques.”
“Never took you for the type.”
“Me either. But they’ve been helpful.”
Did they fix your messed-up childhood? I want to ask. I don’t. I’m too angry to soften it, and too tired to deal with the fallout.
“Happy for you,” I say instead.
“Yeah. It’s good to find a purpose. Even better when it helps other people.”
“I’m sure the money doesn’t hurt.”
The old Reid would’ve snapped back. This one just chuckles and lets it go.
Weird.
“So, you run this place year-round?”
“Yes. About thirty staff. We keep the number of guests limited.”
“And how do you decide who deserves help?” I glance at him. “I’m guessing it depends on their bank balance.”
“Didn’t I already tell you some of our clients don’t pay at all?”
“That doesn’t mean they don’t donate. Or refer wealthy friends.” I meet his eyes. “Or give generous tips and leave five-star reviews, or... I don’t know, write you legacies in their wills, for all I know.”
His gaze drops to my lips, heat flickering there.
The implication hits hard.
Everything that happened earlier crashes back.
No. Don’t go there.
“Luke tells me you think we’re running a cult,” he says.
I shrug. “You have to admit, a place like this… it’s not an unreasonable conclusion.”
“Is it?” He studies me. “Is it so hard to believe we actually help people? Was I that bad?”
I bite my lip. Regret flashes in his eyes.
“Don’t answer that,” he says quietly. “I know I was.”
We walk in silence for a few steps.
“It’s not about you,” I say finally. “I just can’t believe mindfulness fixes a slipped disc.”
“I don’t claim it does. Some pain is psychological, some isn’t. We treat both.”
“You mean actual physical therapy?”
“Yes.”
That makes me pause. “Oh.”
“Give it a chance,” he says. “You might be surprised.”
“I’m only staying one night.”
“Right. Let’s get some food into you first.”
We reach the dining room.
It’s more of a hall—open, warm, wood and stone, with the soft light of dusk filtering in, and silhouettes of trees visible beyond the structure. Bells chime somewhere overhead, and a fountain trickles through an archway, the sound low, constant, and somehow comforting.
About two dozen people sit around a long table.
I spot Luke immediately. He winks and gestures to the empty seat beside him. I glare at him, ready to ignore it, but there’s nowhere else to sit, so I make my way over to him.
Fine.
“You made it,” he says with that infuriatingly charming smile.
“Don’t talk to me, traitor. You were supposed to bring me food, not sic my ex on me.”
“In my defense, he caught me in the act. Then convinced me you’d be better off eating with us.” He sighs dramatically. “I tried to resist. Truly. But his cult-leader charm is devastating.”
“Idiot,” I mutter, though I can’t quite suppress a smile.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Reid watching us. I ignore him.
“Besides,” Luke adds, “this gives you a chance to see how crazy we all are.”
I glance around.
They don’t look crazy.
If I have to be honest, they look… normal. Relaxed. Happy.
Several conversations are all going on at once in a low hum. People talking to whoever is to their left or to their right. The occasional sound of laughter, the toss of a head. One man picks up a jug and pours water for the person next to him and then for himself. It all seems very natural.
And then I spot her.
Bertha.
She lights up when she sees me, gets up from her seat, and hurries over, all smiles.
“Sierra! What a lovely surprise!”
I stand to hug her. “After your recommendation, I had to come.”
“You two know each other?” someone asks.
“She was my physical therapist,” Bertha says brightly. “One of the best I’ve had.”
I laugh, a little embarrassed. “I wouldn’t go that far—”
“Unfortunately, she didn’t have the right tools to help me,” Bertha continues cheerfully. “But that’s okay. Now she’s here, maybe she’ll learn something.”
I freeze as all eyes turn to me.
Luke coughs to hide a laugh.
She didn’t mean it as a jab. That’s the worst part. She genuinely believes it.
A server rolls in a trolley piled high with plates of food, and the mood shifts instantly.
Everyone perks up.
When the dish is revealed, I understand why. Buttered lobster, potatoes, herbs—rich, fragrant, perfect.
“Wow,” I murmur.
“Wait till you taste it,” Luke says, sliding a plate toward me.
I take a bite.
“Oh God.” My eyes close. “That is sinful.”
“Thank you,” he says, watching me.
“You made this?”
“I mentioned I was a world-famous cook, right?”
“Not like this.” I take another bite, barely holding back a moan. “I didn’t expect it to be this good.”
“This is nothing. You should see what we’re having tomorrow. But you’re not staying.”
“What will it be?”
“Lamb chops. Caramelized eel. White chocolate. Caviar.”
I nearly groan.
Maybe staying one more day wouldn’t be so bad.
No. That’s ridiculous – what am I thinking? I need to leave.
I look around again. Everyone is eating with enthusiasm.
Everyone except one woman, sitting near Reid.
She barely touches her food. Just pushes it around, her eyes fixed on him.
Not admiration.
Something else.
Fear. Need.
When Reid stands, her whole body tenses like she wants to follow—but she stays put.
A cold suspicion settles in my gut.
What is he doing to her?
Why does she look at him like that?
That’s not normal.
Not at all.
I need to find out.
Maybe I should stay one more day after all. After all, I didn’t come all this way just for a nice dinner.