Page 27 of Todd
It’s a bathtub filled with mud.
And you sat in it?
It was supposed to be restorative. Volcanic ash or some such nonsense.
Was it restorative?
Not really, although it was a strange, quite squishy experience. And dirty.
Todd snorted with laughter at her dry commentary, the sound echoing in the quiet room. He could picture her expression perfectly—that subtle eye roll she deployed when faced with something she found ridiculous but was too polite to openly mock. The mental image made his chest warm with affection and longing.
He was crafting another response when his phone suddenly vibrated with an incoming call. Seeing Sadie’s name on the display sent shock waves through him, and he fumbled to answer before it went to voicemail.
“Hello?” His voice came out rougher than intended, betraying the effect her unexpected call was having on him.
“Hey.” Her familiar voice carried through the speaker. “Guess I caught you by surprise, huh?”
“No, no… not really. Well, kind of… because I... you haven’t... I just...” He stumbled over his words like a teenager asking someone to prom, heat flooding his cheeks at his own ineptitude.
The silence hung between them, loaded with all the careful distance they’d perfected. Their conversations had slowly moved from strictly professional or group settings, where she might contribute a witty observation or sarcastic quip, to talking when it was just the two of them in the bunkhouse or at work. But even when they found themselves alone in moments he both craved and dreaded, she never ventured into personal territory.
The fact that she had not only responded to his text but actually called him sent warmth spreading through his body, making him grateful he’d found the courage to reach out first.
“Is everything okay there?” His voice was tentative, weighted with careful restraint. He was terrified of saying something that might offend her, of inadvertently destroying this fragile bridge they seemed to be building.
“Yeah, I just thought it was easier to call than to keep texting.” Her tone was casual, and over the phone, he couldn’t read her expression.
“Yeah, sure. That makes perfect sense.” He cringed at how awkward he still sounded.
More silence stretched between them, filled with the weight of everything they weren’t saying. Desperate to keep her on the line to prolong their conversation, he seized on the safest topicavailable. “So what kind of fancy things are they doing at the spa besides mud baths?”
She snorted. “After the mud bath, I got to shower off all the sludge, then soak in a mineral bath that bubbled. Then I had a massage, followed by dinner that probably cost more than most people spend on groceries in a month.”
The mention of a massage sent an unwelcome spike of jealousy through his system. Was the massage therapist male? The thought of another man’s hands exploring the curves and planes of her body, discovering the silky texture of her skin that he remembered with devastating clarity, made his jaw clench with possessive fury he had no right to feel.
While his mind spiraled down that particular rabbit hole of torment, she continued speaking, her voice carrying a note of bemused exasperation. “It’s just that most people here seem like the kind of wealthy person who probably does this sort of retreat every few months as routine maintenance. Although there is one that seems out of place, like me.”
“Well, you just got there,” he managed, pushing aside images of faceless massage therapists with their hands on her body. “You’ll probably meet some people and make friends soon.” Even as the words left his mouth, he wished desperately that he could be there with her instead. He imagined sharing meals, exploring the facility, and laughing at the absurdity of volcanic ash treatments.
She barked out a laugh that sent his pulse racing with its familiar music. “You must be kidding. They don’t encourage socializing here. Everything’s focused on individual regimens supposedly tailored to each person’s unique spiritual journey. We even eat at a table by ourselves, so there’s no chatting with each other.” Her tone made it clear what she thought of that particular concept.
“Seriously? That sounds ominous.”
“It’s weird here, Todd. They serve some kind of herbal tea after each treatment. They call it a cleanse, but I think it’s nasty. It tastes like grass. Old grass. Old mown grass that’s been sitting in the sun for a while. Not that I know what old grass tastes like, but you know what I mean.”
He snorted at her description.
“It’s only been one day, but this place creeps me out.”
The words hit him like a physical blow, knocking the mirth out of him. In all the time he’d known her, he’d never heard Sadie admit to being unsettled by anything. She was one of the most competent, fearless people he’d ever encountered. If something at the spa was making her uncomfortable, every alarm bell in his head started clanging. He wanted to tell her to be careful but didn’t want her to interpret that as a sign she wasn't competent.
“Well, like I said, you’re missed here.” The response was inadequate, but he was still processing her admission and trying not to let his concern bleed into his voice.
“Only because you’re stuck doing the work I normally handle.” Her deflection was typical of Sadie, pushing aside any suggestion that her absence might be felt on a personal level.
He wanted to admit that he missed her for reasons that had nothing to do with technology expertise and everything to do with the way her presence brightened every room she entered. Instead, he managed a chuckle that sounded strained even to his own ears. “Yeah, it’s definitely more challenging without your analytical skills and cyber prowess to back us up.”
Another stretch of silence filled the space between them. Finally, she spoke again, her voice softer than before. “Well, I just thought I’d call since you were nice enough to send that text. God knows there’s no one here to talk to. I should probably get some sleep. But... um... thanks for thinking of me.”
