AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Chapter 1
Oakley
I need a gigantic bag of chocolate-covered cinnamon bears like I need air. Maybe slightly more.
I step up to the front desk of the Tate International Longdale Lake Resort, imagining a bag that is truly jumbo-sized, the kind you can get at the candy factory’s outlet store.
Don’t ask me how I know.
So what if the bears’ faces are malformed, or the chocolate looks a little lumpy? I don’t need my candy to look pretty, okay? I need it to do its job.
Why didn’t I think to grab one from the store before I left San Antonio?
Oh. That’s right. I was a little distracted by the fog of broken-heartedness, lack of funds, and an inability to conjure up any sense of space and time.
Slinging my bag that doubles as a laptop carry-on and holder of the essentials from my life back home higher on my shoulder, I realize the guy at the front desk is talking to me.
“Can you repeat the question?” I offer an artificial laugh. I’ve been on an adrenaline bender the last couple of days—not by choice—and the afterburn has rendered me nearly useless. Which is why I should either go for a run to clear my head or eat spicy candy to numb it. And let’s face it. The candy sounds much more appealing right now.
“Oh, I was only welcoming you to Longdale. First time here?” The front desk guy’s grin feels genuine—like he’s happy to be at work today.
I raise my hand like I’m in grade school. “First timer!”
He smiles and looks at his computer screen, then clicks his tongue. “It looks like your room isn’t ready yet. I apologize. You’re welcome to hang out in the lobby for an hour or so until housekeeping’s finished.” He sweeps his hand across my line of vision to highlight the high-end luxurious space with cozy lighting, carved fireplaces, and rich leathers. “And I can get you a water and a granola bar while you wait.”
I shake my head. Sitting in a lobby feels vulnerable right now. I might actually have to talk to people.
“You don’t have another room available that I could switch to? I don’t mind two queen beds.”
Sympathy stirs behind his eyes. “I’m sorry, but no. We’re at full capacity right now.”
I sigh and chew on my lip. This fits my new life. It’s a life that could be called “Everything’s Impossible.”
It’s impossible to do such things as crash in my hotel room after a sleepless night. Or quit a job gracefully. Or have a man in your life who you can trust to clean up after himself and do such things as, I don’t know,notsteal from you.
At least the resort is nice, with its old-world-rustic-meets-fancy-castle style. Lizzy, my coworker—now former coworker—said it’s only been open for a few months. It still smells new. The AC cools my clammy skin.
I tell him it’s fine and that I’ll check back with him in an hour. It takes all my energy to stay civil, but I do. Just because my life is in the dumpster doesn’t mean I have to lose all sense of politeness.
I turn from the counter and glance out the double doors to see the early afternoon, azure, June sky with a puffy cloudscape. The resort seems to be built right into the steep mountainside, providing up-close views of the natural lake. The scene is a painting—like it’s not real.
Normally, I’d go dip my toes and skip rocks along the water. But not now. I have zero plans to venture out. I’m going to hole up in my room. Of course, I’ll still wake up at five because I’ve been doing that for years. I’ll stick to my workout routine because I don’t know how to be a human without that.
But I’ll also breathe, order room service, and eventually emerge only to scrounge up some chocolate-covered cinnamon bears—Longdale better have them. And then sleep. And then order more room service.
If it’s not too pricey. I shunt out a hot breath as I remember, with a jolt, that I’m suddenly on a tight budget. With no income right now, I have to be. I haven’t had to cut back for a long time. That was one of the perks of my job as a senior trainer for the San Antonio Wolves, the NFL team I’d spent the last ten months working for. I had enough money for my needs and then some.
No more. None of that exists for me now.
Somehow I have the wherewithal to scrounge up the desire to go running. I return to the front desk. “You have a gym, right?” I seem to remember reading mention of one through the fuzzy rage-booking I did the night before.
“Yes. Construction was just completed last week—the final phase of the resort.” He gestures to his right along a corridor paved in cream tile. “It’s down past the elevators and conference rooms.”
I thank him and turn to leave, declining his offer to keep my stuff back behind the desk for me. No, thank you. Ever since my life imploded two days ago, I’ve felt this need to curl into myself. Letting my bags out of my sight feels ridiculously unsafe.
It doesn’t make any sense, but I can’t argue with it.
I find the gym and it’s one of the best I’ve seen. They even have a TechnoGym Kinesis, with oak wall bars and chrome pulleys. It’s brand-new exercise tech. Whoever designed this space knew what they were doing. I go in the bathroom and change into my shorts, tank top, and running shoes.
