Chapter 17
Sierra
“Welcome, everyone.” The man at the front of the class speaks in a calm voice that doesn’t match his appearance.
He’s lean, with close-cropped hair and a few old scars.
I’m a little surprised—I’d been expecting some kind of young hipster type, maybe dyed hair or a big beard with his hair tied back in a bun.
Instead, this guy looks more like someone you’d see in a drunken fight outside a bar at closing time than someone who teaches meditation.
His relaxed, steady gaze moves around the room, sharp and assessing, lingering on Talon and me for a moment.
“I see a few new faces,” he says. “Welcome if you’re new. Don’t worry, I’m not going to make you stand up and introduce yourselves. The first time’s stressful enough without that, so just relax and make yourselves comfortable.”
Thank God. I’ve always hated that part of these things.
Bertha’s here too, sitting near the front, back straight, eyes already closed like she’s been doing this her whole life.
That alone is enough to unsettle me. She really does seem to be under some kind of a magic spell.
Half of me is concerned for her—after all, she’s the reason I came out here in the first place—the other half wishes I could be as relaxed as she seems to be.
I glance at Talon, wondering if he feels as awkward here as I do. Hard to tell. He’s staring straight ahead, avoiding everyone’s gaze.
I almost smile.
This can’t be easy for him. Everyone’s been staring since we walked in, and I know he hates it. I’m still glad he came with me. I’d half-suggested it as a joke, complaining about a Pilates class where I felt completely out of place. Having him here as another newbie makes this easier.
I hadn’t expected him to say yes. Thinking back, I’m not even sure he fully registered what I was asking—but I’m not about to point that out now. For better or worse, we’re here.
“We’re just here for a guided meditation,” the instructor continues. “Don’t worry if you’ve never done this before. It’s simple. Find somewhere comfortable to sit. Cushion, floor—whatever works. Don’t worry, it’s clean.”
Talon sits on the floor. I grab a cushion and settle beside him.
As I do, I notice the woman who had been hanging around Reid. What was her name—Ashley? Amanda?
She keeps glancing over her shoulder, tense. I’ve been meaning to talk to her, figure out what her deal with Reid is. Not for personal reasons.
No. Definitely not.
I don’t care who Reid sleeps with—but if he makes a habit of it here, that’s a problem. Especially with someone who looks as young and vulnerable as she does.
She catches me looking and immediately turns away.
I do the same.
“When you’re ready,” the instructor says, “close your eyes and lower your gaze.”
I obey. The darkness sharpens everything else—the rustle of clothes, quiet shifts as people settle.
“Take a slow breath in through your nose, hold for a count of two, then let it out through your mouth.”
I inhale, immediately aware of Talon beside me. His scent, the warmth of him. We’re not touching, but his presence feels… solid.
And somehow quiet at the same time.
Like he could disappear if you blinked.
“Inhale again… feel your chest rise… exhale, let your shoulders soften…”
I follow along. Some of the tension in my body eases—tension I didn’t even realize I was holding.
Usually, I keep busy so I don’t have to think.
Now there’s nothing else to do.
“Don’t worry if thoughts come up. Just notice them, let them pass, and return to your breath.”
He’s good. It’s like he’s reading my mind. I try to follow, and for a moment, I actually relax.
“Let your breath return to its natural rhythm. Don’t control it. Just notice it—the cool air in, the warm air out.”
I glance across the room and see Bertha, sitting completely still—too still. Like she’s slipped into something deeper than the rest of us.
A flicker of unease tightens in my chest.
Is this real… or am I just seeing what I expect to see?
The room smells faintly of eucalyptus, mixed with soap and fresh wood from Talon. Clean. Grounding.
The longer I sit like this, the more I feel… surrounded.
Part of something larger.
For a second, I want to reach out. Take Talon’s hand. Or Reid’s.
The eucalyptus makes me think of him—how he smells now. Herbal, calming, but underneath it, leather and something darker.
It’s a scent I know too well.
I remember it from earlier. From his body over mine. The way we fit—like nothing had changed.
Like we still worked, even when everything else didn’t.
“If your mind wanders,” the instructor continues, “just notice it and bring it back. No judgment.”
Easier said than done.
When I push thoughts of Bertha and of Reid away, they shift to Luke instead—his easy smile, the scars on his arms.
What happened?
I’ve been wondering for days, and I can’t let it go. Some cuts are deep, some shallow. None are fresh.
But still—why?
“Let your awareness expand to your body,” the instructor says. “Notice the weight of it. If there’s tension, breathe into it. Let it soften.”
I breathe, letting the tension ease. Maybe I should just ask Luke and get it over with.
Then my mind drifts again.
To Talon.
To the garage.
The way he looked—tense, strained…
Stop.
He never meant for me to see that. I definitely shouldn’t have kept watching.
But now I can’t stop thinking about him.
Luke says he grew up on this mountain. I can’t even picture that. No family except a grandmother. Living alone out here.
Why?
“Now shift your attention outward,” the instructor says. “Listen to the sounds around you. Just let them exist.”
Almost there? This was supposed to be thirty minutes. It doesn’t feel like it.
“Take one final breath in… and out. Begin to move your fingers and toes.”
I do, relieved no one’s watching.
“Gently open your eyes.”
Light floods back in. Most people still have their eyes closed. Some are smiling. One woman is crying.
They took this more seriously than I did.
Towards the front of the class, Bertha opens her eyes slowly, calm, almost serene. She looks… happy. More at peace than I’ve ever seen her—but somehow that doesn’t reassure me nearly as much as it should.
Talon’s eyes are still closed. I study him—the sharp lines of his face, the calm expression.
Then his eyes open and catch mine.
My heart jumps.
That same pull—tight, invisible.
For a second, everything else fades.
“Hello.”
“Oh!” I jerk, startled to find the instructor behind us.
“Sorry,” he says, grinning. “Didn’t mean to scare you. I was curious. Haven’t seen you before.”
“Yeah. I just arrived a couple of days ago.”
“Welcome. How was the session?”
“It was good,” I say, because I’m not sure what else to say.
“How about you?” he asks Talon.
Talon nods.
“Good. It gets easier. We run sessions most days. Come by anytime.”
“Sure,” I say. It’s not like I have much else to do until my car’s fixed.
Outside, Talon makes his excuses and heads off to work, exactly as expected.
I go looking for Luke and find him sitting on the steps with a mug of coffee.
“Hey,” I say, dropping beside him.
“Hey, yourself.” He grins. “How was mindfulness?”
“It was okay. Not really sure it’s for me.”
“Same. I fell asleep the first few times. Got told off for not being present.” He shrugs. “Guess I’m good at repressing shit. You?”
“I don’t have anything repressed.”
He raises an eyebrow. “Really?”
I cross my arms. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means you don’t share anything real about yourself. Not your past. Nothing.”
“Yeah? And you don’t either.”
His grin widens. “What do you want to know?” He tilts his head. “Want me to tell you about the first time I cut myself?”