by Lindy Zart
My voice is weak when I tell him, “That’s a rotten thing to say.”
“Am I wrong?” Ben counters.
Not having a comeback, I mutter, “Whatever.”
“Did you or did you not make sure you had Duke’s favorite breakfast delivered every morning?”
“So?” I shift uncomfortably when he turns to glower at me.
He steps closer. “First of all, that’s Anne’s job, and second of all, you were being an ass kisser.”
“I was—”
He moves another step closer, until we’re less than a couple feet from each other. “Because every morning when you took his food to him, you made sure you mentioned some great idea you had for one of the companies interested in using our advertising agency. There you sat, chirping away in his ear, making yourself indispensable to him.”
He raises his voice to a high falsetto. “Oh, Duke, what do you think of this? And I had the most wonderful thought last night. I think if we move the wording around, it will sound better.”
My face flames. I jab him in the chest. “You purposely set up an appointment with Callie’s Trinkets because you knew I already had one that day.”
Ben blinks. “So?”
“Your time overlapped my time already scheduled. You did that on purpose to cut into my time with them.”
He shrugs, but guilt lines his face.
“Last month you told me the wrong time for an important meeting,” I add.
“That was an accident.”
“Sure it was. You’re no better,” I finish.
Fire flares to life in his irises. “I wasn’t trying to steal Callie’s Trinkets’s business from anyone, Avery. You were. I’d already done two campaigns for them.”
“Well, maybe it was time for a change.” I don’t mean the words, and when I see how they hit Ben, I wish I’d never spoken them.
He steps back falteringly and turns his back on me. “Yeah. Maybe.”
I clench my fingers to keep from reaching out to him and turn away. There are more important things to think about than whether or not I inadvertently wounded Ben’s pride—okay, and hurt his feelings. I cringe. And maybe, in a way, somehow, sort of, betrayed him. Being lost is not an option. That is not acceptable.
With or without Ben’s help, I’ll find the compass and map, and I’ll get to the rest of the group. Except, the whole point of this is to work together as a team. If I show up without Ben, or he shows up without me, we’re done. My shoulders slump. We’re stuck together, which is exactly what Duke wanted.
I scowl.
The lodge can’t be that far away. I straighten my spine. Duke said this is a simple quest, and if we don’t show up by the time everyone else does, they’ll look for us. We won’t be lost for long. I can do this. I will do this. We will do this. Nothing is impossible, unless you tell yourself it is. My mom told me that once. I haven’t forgotten.
I tip my chin and head in the direction I think we came from.
“Where are you going?” Ben calls.
“I’m going to find the compass and map. I refuse to be lost!”
“Great idea. You do that.”
“I am doing that,” I reply.
“Have fun.”
“I will have fun.”
I glance back. Ben faces me, his arms crossed. The sun blazes behind him in a fiery backdrop. I can’t see his expression, but I’m sure it’s unfriendly. I face forward with a sigh, focusing on my feet as the ground steepens. The air cools as I head farther into the trees.
5
BEN
I rub the back of my neck as I take in the monstrous-sized mountains. Damn, it’s an overwhelming view. Mountains high into the clouds, vast and out of focus. Like a painting—an image I’d rather be looking at on a wall instead of witnessing firsthand.
I cannot even begin to gauge where we are in relation to the path on which we started, but like Avery, I can’t sit and wait. I’ll look for some trace of other humans while Avery goes and gets herself even more lost. Yeah, that’s what I’ll do. I ignore the feeling of wrongness that creeps over me as the minutes of our separation grow. It’s her own fault if she vanishes and no one ever sees her again. I tried to tell her.
Walking a dozen footsteps, I keep my eyes trained on the rocky hill before me, seeing nothing but insects, and a rodent or two. Lots of land, and lots of nothing. My shirt is damp with sweat, the sun unapologetic in its burn. I need food, and a drink or two, preferably of hard liquor. The terrain gets rockier the higher up I climb, and when I reach the halfway point, I know I’m not anywhere I want to be. There’s no trail above me. I skid down the wall and jump back, picking another area of the vast, wooded fortress to check.
Time seems to drag to the point where I wonder if it’s altogether stopped. We’re supposed to be near Panther Den Wilderness, one of the seven parts of the national forest, but I haven’t seen anything that tells me we are.
Try as I might, I can’t concentrate, my thoughts spiraling back to Avery again and again. What if something happens to her? When I can’t take it anymore, I look over my shoulder, spotting Avery’s figure as it gets smaller and farther away with each step. Another few feet and I won’t even be able to see her.
Panic sets in without any warning, and I vault from the rock ledge, tearing through the woods as if I’m afraid I’ll never see her again. I’m not, I just—I don’t want her to be alone if she gets hurt, that’s all.
“Avery!” I land on a tree limb wrong and it shoots up to smack me in the forehead, adding a sting to the side of my face. I curse and keep going. At this rate, I’ll be horrendously disfigured before nightfall.
She whirls around, a speck of golden light in the distance. Her voice reaches me before I can make out her features. “Ben? Ben, what is it? Did you find the map?”
When I’m close enough to see her expression, a fist slams into my chest at the way her eyes are lit up at the sight of me. It makes me feel like an ass, and then I feel like an ass for feeling like an ass.
“I didn’t.” I slow to a jog, stopping once I’m within a few feet of Avery.
“Oh.” Avery bites her lower lip, the act sending life to parts I want to remain lifeless. “Why did you come after me then?”
“I didn’t come after you,” I quickly deny.
“Right.” She eyes me. “Why are you here then?”
I look at the world around us, full of creatures and wildlife we can’t even guess at. I shift my gaze to her expectant one. And I tell her why I really raced after her. “We’re supposed to be a team.”
“So you did come after me.” She lifts an eyebrow and waits.
“All right, fine, I came after you,” I admit reluctantly.
Avery turns her face, but not before I catch her smile.
We’ve walked for what seems like hours—or in my case, hobbled. Not having a phone or a watch, I can’t tell for sure. You would think, at some point, we would meet up with other people. Not necessarily our coworkers, but someone. Unless we’re so completely off the grid, we’re in a place people know better than to go. Which, yeah, sure, why not? That would fit right in with how our day is going.
If it was any other situation, I might feel a spark of satisfaction at the forlorn expression on Avery’s face. As it is, I wish we were in any other situation. But we’re not. We’re here, together, lost in Illinois country inside of a national forest.
I look at Avery. Her legs are covered in scratches, her hair looking more brown than blonde from the dirt that’s seeped into her scalp and around the locks. Her makeup is smeared, and faint enough that I see a smattering of freckles coating her nose and cheeks. I didn’t even know she had freckles. She’s an absolute mess—and she’s prettier than I’ve ever seen her, a fact that puts an ache in my temples and in my groin.
Her face brightens. “Wait! I just remembered! The map! I remember I have the…” She reaches in her pocket, and then the other three. Her shoulders slump. The light fades from her eyes.
“I have nothing. No, wait. I have dirt.” Avery opens her hand, palm down, and brown dust falls to coat the ground.
“Now what, partner?” I don’t mean to sound sarcastic, but I hear it drip from my words all the same.
Avery shakes her head, her face about to crumple. She whirls around, holding that pose until I hear a long exhale. When she faces me, her spine is straight, and her expression is fierce. “We keep going until we find a trail, or people. We find something.”
I have to admire her drive, whatever my misgivings where Avery Scottam’s concerned.
“Good plan.” I nod, pausing a moment before I drop the information bomb. “Only we are in a national forest—a national forest that’s over three hundred thousand acres in size. There are seven wilderness retreats inside it, and those make up only ten percent of the forest. The rest is unknown territory. And I don’t know where one ends and the other begins.”
“Then what do you suggest?” she says through her teeth.
I rub my face, already weary from this ordeal, and I get the feeling it’s only just begun. “I don’t know. Sit and wait? Moving around is going to get us more lost.”
“No.” Avery jabs a finger at me, grazing my nose.
“No?”
“No. I’m not sitting and I’m not waiting.” She shakes her head. “Life doesn’t come to you; you have to go to it.”
I make an incredulous sound. My exasperation knows no bounds when it comes to this woman. “Avery, this isn’t work. You aren’t pitching some inspirational slogan or greeting card speech. There is no makeup account, no athletic apparel company. It’s just you and me.”
“I would win if there was,” she retorts waspishly.
“Win? Did you listen to any part of Duke’s speech last month? It isn’t about winning. Any sale the company gets is good for all of us.” I sound like a hypocrite as I spew forth Duke’s words. I feel like one too. “We’re not supposed to try to outdo each other. We’re supposed to support one another at Sanders and Sisters. We’re supposed to be family.”
She just looks at me, steely-eyed and motionless.
I sigh. “All right, I didn’t listen to the speech either. If I had—if we all had—maybe we wouldn’t be here right now.”
“Do you think he meant it?”
“Who meant what?” I ask, annoyed by the vague question.
“Duke. When he called us family, do you think he meant it?”
I find the question odd, as well as the way she waits expectantly, never once shifting her gaze from me. “I have not one clue, and frankly, I don’t care right now.”
“I wonder why we haven’t seen any of the others,” she says absently, her eyes skimming the vicinity as if she’s hoping one of our coworkers will pop up from behind a tree and rescue us.
“Because they’re where they should be, and we are not.”
Avery looks at me, frowning. “You blame me for us being lost, don’t you?”
“No,” I bite out.
I don’t blame Avery for us being lost. I do blame her for a lot of other things though, like us being sent here in the first place. Things were fine until she came along and upended Sanders and Sisters, along with my reality. She stole commissions from me one by one with an innocent smile and feigned ignorance. It was as ifshe specifically had it out for me, outpitching me any chance she got.
I was Duke Renner’s number one, and then, I wasn’t.
Avery turns to me, a hint of the sweet, citrus scent somehow remaining. “Do you have any idea at all where we are?” she asks. The determined set of her jaw wavered at some point over the last few hours; the fierce light in her eyes dimmed.
I rub my jaw. “I’m guessing we’re on a direct route to hell.”
“But really, do you?”
All I have to do is look at her.
Avery’s shoulders slump.
Even though neither of us say the words out loud, she knows it as well as I do.
We are so fricking lost.
And I don’t mean a little lost. I mean, we have not a single clue as to where we are, where we started, or where we need to go. I can feel us getting sucked into the wilderness; it’s an unseen hand that guides us into nowhere. Clearly, the employees of Extreme Retreat overestimated our ability to stay on course, because we have nothing in the backpack to alert anyone as to our location.
Avery studies the land. “We have to run into someone else eventually, right? We can’t be the only ones out here.”
I don’t even bother answering that. I’m a city guy from Illinois who’s never set foot on anything remotely resembling a mountain. And Avery? Avery doesn’t like to be outside. We’re doomed.
Avery’s quiet for a moment. “Is the national forest really that big?”
“Bigger than you realize,” I answer honestly.
She quickly looks away, but not before I see the resignation in her eyes. Something about seeing Avery beaten down makes me uncomfortable, which is exactly the opposite of how I thought it would make me feel.
“I want to keep moving,” Avery announces. “I can’t stand not moving.”
“I read that if you ever get lost you should stay in one spot.”
Avery shakes her head. “I want to walk, Ben. I’ll go without you if I have to.”
“That’s not smart.”
She stares woodenly back.
I sigh and run a hand through my hair.
Avery doesn’t move.
Maybe I’m as gullible as everyone else, I think as I contemplate giving in to her in order to not see Avery sad. I shake my head. No way that’s it. But then I vow something I have no right doing. “We can walk for a while. We’ll find the lodge, don’t worry.”
A faint shine returns to her eyes, some straightness to her spine, and I realize something. I am as susceptible to her charm as everyone else. I inwardly shake my head at myself. I’m a fool, plain and simple. The glimpses of a softer Avery Scottam are lies. They don’t really exist. I have to remember that. Still, if any part of her is genuine, I hope it’s the part she’s showing me now.
I let out a noisy breath of air and lift an eyebrow at my teammate. “Ready for some more walking?”
Avery nods, and we continue on our path to an undesignated destination.
6
AVERY
The words that instantly come to mind are “Oh” and “God” when the sky splits open without warning. Rain pummels the earth, and us along with it. It only takes seconds to be completely sopping wet. Standing close to the ledge of a hill that feels more like a mountain, I look at Ben, who is equally drowned. I guess, at least, we’re a little cleaner than we were moments ago. And the rain isn’t cold, so that’s another plus. Ben’s clothes are vacuum-sealed to his body, emphasizing ridges and valleys I’d rather explore than anything presently around us.
“This is nice, right? Very relaxing,” I say conversationally. It’s amazing how clearly I can see his glower around the sheet of rain hindering my eyesight.
Ben skims a hand over his wet hair, a chunk of it rebelling and falling over his forehead. “This is ridiculous.”
“But in a nice way,” I remind him.
I’m sure I imagine the judgmental look on Ben’s face, the expression stating that I am insane. The rain, you know…so distorting.
“No. Not in a nice way,” he retorts, swiping an arm across his face. “As in, this is the last thing we need right now.”
I watch Ben become taller and wonder how I’m shrinking. Then I realize I’m not shrinking, but sinking into the ground. I look down, amazed to find my shoes lodged in mud. How did that happen without my knowledge? The gap grows between Ben and me, and I catch his frown as I begin to slip down the slope. I look up just as the ground crumbles beneath me. I reach for something to hang on to, but there isn’t anything. Unable to keep my balance, I fall.
A hand lassoes
my wrist, stalling my ride. “Is that you, Ben?”
“No, it’s the Jolly Green Giant. Yes, it’s me.”
“Don’t be such a stick in the mud.” I look at the rain as it splatters my face, laughing at the terrible joke.
“No one told me you were hilarious.” His grip tightens on my arm when I start to move again.
“Well, I am. Now you know.”
“Are you going to help me at all?” Ben demands, sounding slightly breathless.
“I don’t know, this is kind of fun.”
“For you maybe.”
His attitude rubs me the wrong way and I attempt to fling off his hold, but he only reaches higher, his hand almost erotic in its touch as it skims the side of my breast and wraps around my elbow. Ben tugs me toward him until I’m looking into stormy features. He hovers over me, locking me in place with his lower body strategically placed crosswise over mine. We slide down the muddy slope an inch before settling once more in the mush.
“What?” I snap when Ben continues to study me, feeling overwhelmed and out of my element with our current positions.
Ben glares at me, his expression fiercer than any words that might leave his mouth. “You can’t slide down the hill.”
“Why not? What else do we have to do?”
“I don’t know, maybe try to find a way out of here?” he returns.
When it comes to nature and everything it beholds, I’m pretty much a disaster. My mom tried to teach me that I can’t live life afraid of the things around me, but my fears overrode her efforts. It didn’t help that whenever I went outside, some kind of catastrophe followed. Part of the reason I agreed to this torturous outdoor adventure was to overcome my childhood phobias that followed me into adulthood—the other part was because I wanted to keep my job. I’ve since discovered jobs are overrated.
“What do you think we’ve been doing this whole time?” I ask tartly.
