Oh, who was I kidding? The woods felt empty without Faelan there. So even though I was no longer salivating over sourdough, I headed back to the cabins.
The celebration had only grown louder in my absence. People clustered around the fire pit, passing food and wine, leaning inclose. The guitar had made its rounds, and whoever had it now was strumming just slightly out of tune. Further off, a few people were dancing in a circle.
The air smelled like bonfires and springtime, and for a cult, the members were acting remarkably chill.
Though off to one side, Mr. Bathrobe was still at it.
I barely heard Randy’s voice over the music and the hum of conversation, but his posture was tense, and his movements were too forceful. He was earnestly waving a bundle of dried herbs in the air, but one one was joining him in his little ritual.
One of the older women at the gathering gave him an indulgent nod before turning back to her drink. Another person laughed in the middle of his speech, clearly engaged in another conversation entirely.
Randy’s face fell.
I was too busy feeling sorry for myself to feel sorry for him.
“Sam.”
I turned toward Callie’s voice.
She sat at one of the wooden picnic tables. Her face was flushed from wine, and her curls were escaping the braid she’d attempted.
She wasn’t alone.
The woman in the oversized sweater sat beside her, close, leaning in just enough that I could tell she didn’t want to be anywhere other than where she was right now.
As if I didn’t feel dumb enough already for checking my phone.
Callie waved me over. “Come sit. Meet Bethany.”
I shook my head. “You’re good. I shouldn’t intrude.”
Callie scoffed. “You’re not intruding. Sit.” She patted the bench beside her.
I hesitated.
Bethany gestured for me to come join them already. “Seriously. We’re just talking about how Callie has no survival instincts.”
Callie laughed. “It’s a fair assessment.”
I sank onto the bench with a sigh. “So, Bethany,” I said, “has Callie told you about her villain origin story? Because technically, I met her through her brother, which sounds like a curse, but miraculously, it turned out well in the end.”
Bethany’s eyes flicked between us, intrigued. “That bad?”
I nodded. “That bad. But Callie’s nothing like him. Honestly, she’s the only good thing that ever came out of that whole mess.”
Callie grinned. “You know I love being the lone bright spot in your trauma.”
“You should.” I took the Solo cup of box wine she pushed toward me. “You’ve earned it.”
The two of them resumed their easy conversation, and I tried to join in, but my heart wasn’t in it.
Callie looked happy—the kind of happy that made it impossible not to root for them.
I wanted to be happy for her.
And I was.
But my chest ached anyway, because the difference was clear—the difference between what was happening here beside me and what had just happened in the woods.
