Kara seems happy, too, even bolder somehow, like the depressing blanket cast over them has been lifted. She has always been the wild card between them, but her spirit has been muted. He’s only grateful to see it making a return when she shocked the shit out of him and jumped into that lake, making him blush ten shades of red. He likes this version of her. It gives them both a shove into what their life could be like if the world hadn’t tried its hardest to beat them both down.
Now, Kara’s right where she belongs, curled around him as they speed down a dirt road, leaving nearly two states behind in record time. Not much to see yet and no sign of life, so they push on.
Avoiding the freeway is always a good bet. The lesser-traveled paths hold secrets waiting to be found, like the run-down old barn they roll up to at a roadside.
The tattered wooden sign says it’s some kinda retreat. Self-help. Self-improvement. They both need years of therapy and then some, but they won’t be getting it here. When Kara suggests they stop to check out the cabins for supplies, he pulls up the gravel drive, hoping they’ll find more than dust and cobwebs.
The first cabin holds no threat and nothing useful. Not even sure what they could hope to find anymore. It’s an excuse to stretch their legs all the same and, in an odd way, he likes it. They were slowly domesticating at the last community, with its high walls and solar panels. There’s a strange sort of thrill at being out in the open again, fending for themselves and searching for treasures. One he didn’t expect to feel after being so damn afraid to leave the prison of his cell, or the seclusion of the blue house. There’s still a bit of anxiety in the unknown, but freedom is just as enticing.
“So this is the kind of self-help they did,” she muses, holding up a purple vibrator found in a cabinet next to a dusty bed.
It’s gotta be the biggest dick shaped thing he’s ever seen, flopping obscenely when she tosses it onto the mattress with a smirk. There is no shortage of others to be found in various shapes and sizes around the space.
“Some kinda sex place?” he grimaces, trying not to imagine a bunch of strangers having orgies right where they’re standing.
She laughs at the perplexed expression written all over his face. “Maybe. I was assuming yoga or meditation, but hey, whatever works. Don’t act so shocked. You’ve had your fair share of…experiences in your younger days, Wade.”
“Drunken one-night stands and sucking shots out of someone’s belly button ain’t the same thing. Gonna try real hard not to think about what went down in here.”
“Oh, I’m sure there was a lot of that, too.”
“Fuck. Stop.”
“Want me to find you some pearls to clutch?”
He rolls his eyes at the tease she’s clearly proud of. “Not the sex part I got a problem with, it’s the multiple strangers at once part. Maybe I’m going soft in my old age, but I’m starting to think it should be spec—”
He trails off before he can utter something idiotic, growing more uncomfortable by the second.‘Should be special.’What does he know anyway? He’s the last person to judge anyone for their choices.
One thing he does appreciate, though, is that she isn’t treating him like he’s made of glass when it comes to these conversations. She’s treating him like she always used to instead, and there’s a relief in that. He might curl up and melt into the ground if he thought she was tiptoeing around him because of what he’s been through.
That sassy purse of her lips goes soft, and her reply is surprisingly sincere. “You’re right. It should be special.”
Thankfully, he finds something even more unexpected to distract them from a room full of dildos. “Looks like they were into other recreational activities, too.”
She gives him a confused glance until he holds up a bag filled with weed.
“Oh my god. Is there more?”
He snorts. “I didn’t expect the one bag.”
She frowns when he tosses it back into a drawer. “You’re not gonna take it?”
“Want me to?”
Her head tilts like he’s asking the dumbest question she’s ever heard. “Yes.”
He’s done his fair share of weed back in the day. They both have. Sometimes together. It might be fun to take a trip downmemory lane with a few hits. It would definitely take the edge off, and he’s full of hard edges lately.
Wade’s not quite sure he’s ready to be high with her yet, though. Too many things could go wrong, like him running his mouth when he shouldn’t. He’s a talker when he’s got some weed in him. But he wants to make her happy and wouldn’t mind feeling that buzz again, so he tucks it into his pocket before they continue rummaging for odds and ends.
They find coveted items like paper towels and toilet paper still in their wrappers in the other cabins. A few cans of food that expired long ago but probably won’t kill them, and a bag of brand-new socks that fit her small feet. Not a bad haul.
They’re riding the high of success until they reach the pavilion down a short wooded trail and get more insight into what type of retreat this was.
“What the fuck?” he whispers.
“A cult?”
