Chapter 1 #2
My mood, which had been cautiously optimistic just moments ago, plummets. The weekend stretches ahead of me like a minefield: forced social interactions, watching my ex-girlfriend parade her new relationship, pretending to be fine when I’m anything but.
I return the baby goat to Slade, who accepts her with the same careful attention he showed before.
“Thanks,” I mutter.
“Sure.”
There’s something in his voice—maybe concern, maybe just politeness—but I don’t look at him. Instead, I watch as Maia tips her head back to speak to Jace.
Fine. If this is how the weekend is going to play out, I know exactly how I’ll handle it. I’m going to get spectacularly drunk and hope that booze will blur the edges of everything that hurts. It’s not the most mature coping mechanism, but it’s the one I’ve got.
At least I saw a well-stocked bar at the lodge. Small mercies.
***
I take another sip of wine, the alcohol barely dulling the edge, as I watch Maia laugh at something Jace just whispered in her ear. My fingers tighten around the stem of my glass. One weekend. I just need to survive one weekend without making a complete ass of myself.
The dining room is exactly what you’d expect from a place calling itself an “eco lodge.” We’re seated at a long wooden table that probably has some story about being salvaged from a nineteenth-century barn.
Soft light from fixtures made of recycled materials casts everyone in a flattering glow.
It’s the kind of place that makes you feel guilty for not composting.
“—don’t you think, Owen?” Ava’s voice cuts through my brooding.
“Sorry, what?” I blink, realizing I’ve missed whatever conversation was happening.
“I was just talking about the solar panels. This facility generates ninety percent of its own electricity. Isn’t that great?”
“Oh. Yeah, that’s…impressive.” I reach for my wine glass again. It’s already half empty.
“The whole concept is amazing,” Zara chimes in. “Everything here is either recycled, reclaimed, or sustainably sourced. Even the soap in the bathrooms is made by a local cooperative.”
“And did you notice the water system?” Bryce adds. “They collect rainwater for the gardens and have those low-flow fixtures in all the rooms.”
Naya nods. “The energy here feels so clean. I brought some of my crystals to recharge while we’re staying.”
“What about you, Owen?” Slade’s voice catches me off guard. It’s the first time he’s addressed me directly since we sat down. “Are you into all this sustainable living stuff?”
I meet his gaze across the table, those dark eyes steady and attentive. My brain fumbles for something intelligent to say.
“I recycle?” It comes out sounding like a question. “My building has those separated bins in the garage. And I have a reusable water bottle.”
Slade’s mouth quirks—not quite a smile, but a hint of one. “Small steps.”
“Speaking of work,” Ava interjects, glancing at Zara, “Owen’s a project manager at Vertex Tech. He’s a genius with organizing complex systems.”
I fight the urge to kick her under the table. Instead, I take another large swallow of wine.
“What kind of projects do you manage?” Zara asks.
“Software implementation, mostly. We build solutions, deliver them to customers, and I ensure everything stays on track, on budget, and that the clients get what they need.” It’s my standard explanation, sanitized of all the meetings, spreadsheets, and late-night troubleshooting calls that make up the reality.
“So you’re good at planning,” Zara says, giving me a flirty look. “I like a man who can plan.”
I offer a weak smile in return. “It’s just problem-solving. Breaking big issues into manageable parts.”
“We need more of that thinking in our design studio,” Naya says. “Our projects are always running behind because no one can decide on anything.”
“What do you do there?” I ask, grateful for the shift away from my own work.
Zara jumps in. “We’re a boutique digital design agency. Well, you probably know that from Ava. I handle visual composition and UX, and Naya does marketing strategy. Together with your brilliant sister, we create entire brand experiences for our clients.”
“Mostly we argue about font choices and hex codes for hours,” Ava adds with a laugh.
Jace, who’s been preoccupied with Maia, suddenly perks up. “I’m in software too. I do back-end development for a fintech startup.”
“Which one?” I ask, professional curiosity overriding my desire to ignore him.
“FinPulse. We’re still pretty small, but we just closed our Series B funding.”
“I’ve heard of you guys. Doing some interesting stuff with blockchain, right?”
Jace nods, looking pleased. “That’s us. We’re trying to democratize financial access through distributed—”
“God, honey, you promised no tech talk tonight,” Maia interrupts, placing a hand on his arm. “You know I can’t follow any of it.”
I remember that about her—how she’d tune out whenever I talked about my job, claiming it was all gibberish to her. At the time, I thought it was endearing. Now it just seems ignorant.
“What about you, Slade?” Naya asks. “I’m so curious about what you do.”
“I work at the same hospital as Bryce. I’m a surgeon,” Slade says simply. No elaboration, no self-promotion.
“A children’s surgeon,” Bryce clarifies with obvious pride in his friend. “One of the best pediatric trauma surgeons in the state.”
Something shifts in my chest—a mix of surprise and envy. I look at Slade with new eyes, trying to reconcile the quiet, intense man across from me with someone who saves children’s lives.
“That’s…incredible,” I say, and mean it. My job suddenly seems trivial in comparison.
Slade shrugs, uncomfortable with the attention. “It’s just a job.”
“A job where you save kids,” I counter before I can stop myself. “That’s not ‘just’ anything.”
His eyes meet mine again, and there’s something in them I can’t read. It makes my skin prickle with unexpected awareness.
“What made you choose pediatric surgery?” I ask.
“Kids are fascinating,” he says after a moment. “They’re resilient. They heal better than adults, both physically and emotionally. And they’re honest—they don’t hide how they feel. It’s refreshing.”
That’s the most I’ve heard him speak at once, and his voice has a gravity to it that commands attention. I find myself leaning forward.
“Do you enjoy your work?” he asks, turning the focus back on me. “The project management.”
“I do. It’s satisfying to take something chaotic and make it orderly. To see all the pieces come together.” I pause, surprised by my own honesty. “But I imagine it’s nothing like the satisfaction you get.”
“Different kinds of satisfaction,” he says. “Both valid.”
The server arrives with our appetizers, breaking the intensity of our exchange. I reach for my wine and find the glass empty. Another server materializes with a fresh bottle, and I accept the refill gratefully.
“What do you do outside of work?” Slade asks once the servers leave.
I fumble with my fork. Why is he so interested in me? And why do his questions make me feel like I’m being gently dissected?
“I, uh…I run. Sometimes. And I read a lot. Science fiction. What about you?”
“I restore vintage motorcycles. And I hike when I find time to get away from the hospital.”
I can picture him easily—bent over an engine, hands capable and sure, or standing on some mountain trail, surveying the landscape.
“What are your goals? Personal ones, not work,” he continues, and now I’m definitely being interrogated, albeit in the most polite way possible.
“I haven’t really thought about it,” I admit. “Just the usual, I guess. Be happy. Find fulfillment.”
“Those aren’t goals, they’re outcomes,” he says, not unkindly. “What are you working toward?”
I open my mouth, then close it. No one’s asked me this kind of question in years, if ever. Maia certainly never did. Our conversations revolved around her aspirations, her plans, her dreams.
Before I can formulate an answer, Naya leans toward Slade, placing her hand on his forearm. “I’d love to hear more about your motorcycle restoration. I’m fascinated by people who work with their hands.”
Slade responds to her with polite interest, but his eyes keep finding their way back to me. It’s disconcerting, this attention. I’m not used to being the focus of anyone’s interest, especially not someone like him.
Across the table, Maia feeds Jace a bite from her fork, her fingers lingering near his lips.
He captures her hand, kissing her palm with exaggerated devotion.
I grip my napkin under the table, twisting the fabric between my fingers.
They’re performative in their affection, like they’re auditioning for a rom-com.
“So, Owen,” Zara says, drawing my attention away from the nauseating display, “you sound like you enjoy solving problems. I’ve got this design challenge that’s been driving me crazy—maybe you could help me think through it sometime?”
I force a smile. “Sure, happy to try.”
My gaze drifts back to Slade, who’s now engaged in a discussion with Bryce about something medical.
The way he listens is different—fully present, focused, like whatever’s being said is the only thing that matters in that moment.
I wonder how it would feel to have that attention directed at me for more than just polite dinner conversation.
The thought startles me, and I reach for my wine again.
“Let’s talk about this weekend,” Ava announces as the main courses arrive. “Bryce and I have put together what we think is a perfect balance of activities and free time.”
Bryce nods, placing his hand over hers on the table. “We wanted to give everyone a chance to enjoy what the lodge has to offer.”
“Tomorrow morning we’ll hike to the waterfall,” Ava continues excitedly. “It’s supposed to be gorgeous, and not too strenuous. Then, after lunch, there’s a pottery class where we can make our own eco-friendly souvenirs.”