Chapter 23
Sierra
Something’s changed. Something’s wrong. Since the police came by, and since my awkward conversation with Reid and Luke, followed by the even more awkward encounter with Talon, things haven’t been the same.
The energy around the place feels… off. Charged somehow.
I think they’re avoiding me. All three of them. God, even thinking it like that makes it sound worse than it already feels. It’s not obvious. Not outright.
Luke still hangs out with me after his busy couple of days, still his usual gregarious self—taking me to sessions, encouraging me to try things, making me laugh.
Reid is polite too, the few times I run into him. Friendly. Controlled.
And Talon… we haven’t really talked since it happened. No hostility. Just a heavy, suffocating awkwardness.
But there’s a distance. Like a transparent wall between me and them.
It shows up in small ways.
Luke’s jokes feel a little more careful.
Reid’s smile is tighter, shorter, his body always keeping a measured distance.
Talon won’t even look me in the eye. If we end up within a few feet of each other, he finds a way to leave.
He’s probably planning to never speak to me again. Well, now that the car’s fixed, there’s no real reason for us to interact unless he actually wants to. Which he clearly doesn’t.
I both love and hate what happened between us.
The pleasure was… amazing. No denying that. But everything around it—the lead-up, the aftermath—twisted it into something I can barely think about without cringing.
I begged him.
He tried to say no. I kept pushing.
God… did I push him into it? Did I make him do something he didn’t really want to do? I assumed whatever I was feeling, he was feeling too. But thinking back, I don’t know that for sure. Was I asking for something I had no right to demand?
The thought makes my stomach turn.
It didn’t feel like that in the moment, but I was so caught up in what I wanted that I don’t know if I can trust my own judgment.
But if he was that uncomfortable, why didn’t he stop? Why did he keep going, even after I came?
I don’t know. My thoughts just keep circling without landing anywhere.
Maybe I should actually go to one of those therapy sessions and talk about it.
The next day, I tried to apologize. He shut it down immediately.
“It’s not your fault. It’s fine.”
But it doesn’t feel fine.
I still feel… off. Ashamed. As a result, I’ve stopped visiting him in his shed in the mornings.
And yet I can’t stop thinking about him.
His eyes. His body. The way he touched me like he didn’t want to stop.
And the quieter things, too.
His shy smile when he opens up and tells me something about himself.
The way he listens—as if every word matters and he doesn’t want to miss a single expression.
It used to feel intense. Overwhelming. Now I miss it.
Keeping my distance from him would be easier if things with Luke weren’t weird too.
Like I said, Luke still hangs around. We still talk. But it’s… cleaned up.
No more flirting.
No easy touches.
No hands at my back on hikes.
No mischievous winks.
I really miss the winks.
Sometimes I catch him watching me, almost as intensely as Talon used to. But the second I notice he looks away or throws on that easy smile of his.
Except it’s not quite the same. Similar, but not the same.
More polite. A little too… Midwest nice.
As for Reid—he barely shows up at meals anymore. He hasn’t sought me out once.
Not that I want him to. It’s just… I don’t even know what I want.
All I do know is that the whole thing is a mess, and somehow, it’s my fault. We might have had something good going between us, but now I’ve ruined it, like everything else.
It feels like they talked about it. Decided I’m off-limits.
And honestly, that makes sense.
For me, this is temporary. A fling that ends the second I leave this mountain.
For them, it’s different. They’re friends. Business partners. Sharing the same woman? That gets complicated fast.
I get it. Can’t even say I blame them. I’d probably do the same thing in their shoes.
Doesn’t mean it doesn’t sting.
The awkwardness is starting to bleed into everything else, taking the shine off what was supposed to be a reset.
So, I keep busy.
I take every class I can. Film little video journals during the day—something I can edit later into a full piece about the retreat.
Each morning, I sit on the balcony with a cup of coffee, watching the sunrise, feeling the breeze.
It’s a perfect view—the treetops whispering in a gentle wind, warm early sunlight spilling across the mountains, the occasional insect drifting past on some tiny errand of its own.
The peaks rise in the distance and fade into a cloudless, endless blue.
In many ways, this place is perfect. A comfortable retreat tucked into a remote corner of the Rockies. The weather’s beautiful, the accommodation’s great, and the staff and guests are warm and welcoming. As for the food… yeah, the food definitely doesn’t hurt.
But I didn’t come here for a vacation, and I definitely didn’t come here to get tangled up in awkward relationships.
Maybe if I focus on why I actually came, things will start to make more sense.
Bertha.
I’d been worried about her. Worried she was being taken advantage of, pulled into something she didn’t fully understand.
I haven’t seen any real signs of that since I got here, but I also haven’t actually sat down and talked to her.
Not properly. Not in a way that would tell me if she’s really okay.
That’s what I should do.
There’s some free time after yoga this morning. I could ask her to go for a walk—just the two of us, away from everything—and see how she really feels.
Hopefully she’ll laugh it off and tell me she’s perfectly fine.
And if she doesn’t…
Well, that’s the whole reason I came out here, isn’t it? To find out what’s really going on. To make sure she’s safe.
Yeah. That’s what I’ll do.
Just making the decision steadies something inside me. I finish my coffee, set the cup down, and head inside to get changed for yoga.
“How are you settling in?” Bertha had seemed genuinely delighted when I asked her to go for a walk, and we’d agreed to meet by the front door after getting changed.
Now we’re making our way uphill along one of the winding trails that crisscross the property, Bertha setting a brisk pace that has me working harder than I expected just to keep up, despite being at least ten years younger.
“Very well, thank you, Bertha.” “I was very surprised when I saw you here,” she continues with a bright smile.
“Just between you and me, I had you down as one of those rather cynical types. You know—the sort who think all this healing business is nonsense, and that everyone involved is just out to make as much money as possible.”
She lets out a delighted little laugh at her own description.
I manage a faint smile in return, even though she’s not entirely wrong.
“It was rather satisfying to think you’d taken in what I said about how much better I felt after coming here the first time—and actually decided to come and see for yourself.
” I nod, about to respond, but she continues without missing a beat.
“And apparently you already knew one of the men here. Small world, isn’t it? ”
For a moment, I wonder who told her that. Then I remember how places like this work—information travels fast, carried on whispers and casual conversations.
“Tell me, Sierra,” she says, turning her head slightly, her sharp gray eyes catching mine. “Why did you come here?” The question lands more directly than I expect. Standing beside her—bright, composed, completely at ease in her surroundings—I feel something shift.
I’d come here worried about her. Now I’m not so sure that made any sense at all. If anything, she seems entirely in control. For the first time, it occurs to me that I may have been getting more than a few things wrong.
I stammer out something I hope sounds believable about the importance of being open-minded and my commitment to ongoing professional development.
I’m not sure she buys it. Her expression gives nothing away—no doubt the result of years spent negotiating in high-powered boardrooms. I remind myself that Bertha is not some timid, inexperienced housewife. Far from it.
“And what about you?” I ask, finally steering the conversation back on track. “Do you still feel the same way about this place as you did when you first told me about it? Back in my treatment rooms in downtown Denver?”
“Oh yes.” She smiles broadly, flicking her hair back before gathering it neatly with a scrunchie.
“That’s better,” she says, fanning her neck.
“It does get warm once the sun’s been up for a while.
Now, what was your question? Ah yes—the retreat.
” She beams. “I love it. In fact, when I get back to Denver, I’m planning to offer free weekend trips up here as performance incentives for my staff.
It’ll cost a bit, of course, but I expect I’ll make it back in increased productivity.
It’s remarkable what even a short stay can do.
” She glances at me. “Don’t you agree, Sierra?
Now that you’ve experienced it for yourself? ”
I hesitate, just for a fraction of a second too long. “Yes,” I say finally. “It’s… been interesting.”
“Mm.” Bertha hums softly, as if filing that away.
We walk on for a few moments in comfortable silence, the crunch of gravel underfoot and the distant rustle of trees filling the space between us.
Then, lightly, almost as an afterthought, she says, “You didn’t come here for the reasons you just gave me, did you? ” The question catches me off guard.
I let out a small, awkward laugh. “What makes you say that?”