Chapter 114: Hundred and Fourteen

The morning of the retreat arrived too quickly.

I had packed my bag the night before in silence, folding clothes carefully as if precision could keep me steady. Jacob lingered in the doorway, arms crossed, his expression unreadable. He didn’t say much, only watched me pack with that heavy gaze that made my hands clumsy.

“You’ll call me when you get there,” he said finally. Not a question. A command.

“I will.”

He stepped closer, brushing his knuckles against my cheek in a gesture that should have felt tender. But his touch was too deliberate, a reminder. “Does anyone at work know about your…history?”

I shook my head. “No, not at all. We are just coworkers. And I promise, the only time I will be around Declan will be when we are working on that presentation.”

He sighed. “Remember, Willow. People talk. Don’t give them a reason.”

My throat tightened. I nodded, because it was easier than arguing.

In the morning, I kissed Noah goodbye while he was still half-asleep, his small arms looping around my neck. He mumbled something about going to grandma and grandpa’s over the weekend, where he would draw me a picture. My chest ached as I pulled away.

The office gathered outside, luggage piled, voices bright with anticipation. Ashley waved me over, her grin wide. “This is going to be so much fun!”

Fun. That wasn’t the word that came to mind.

I had a sinking feeling in my chest. I kind of wanted to cry.

The bus was already filling up, people laughing, arguing over window seats. I slipped into a row near the middle, hoping to disappear into the noise. For a moment, it worked. Ashley sat beside me, pulling out snacks, offering me some as we joked about who would fall asleep first.

But then he stepped onto the bus.

Declan.

He carried his bag slung over one shoulder, his posture casual, but I noticed the slight pause when his eyes swept the rows and found me. My stomach tightened. I looked away quickly, focusing on the crumbs in Ashley’s lap as she opened a packet of chips.

He didn’t sit near me. Not at first. He slid into a seat a few rows ahead, next to Chris, laughing at something he said. But I still felt him. Every shift in the bus, every ripple of conversation, I was hyperaware of him being there.

The city gave way to open roads, fields stretching on either side. My coworkers sang along to music blasting from someone’s speaker, voices overlapping in messy harmony. I forced myself to join in once or twice, if only to keep up appearances. But beneath the noise, I felt the pull of his presence.

At one point, Ashley leaned close, whispering conspiratorially, “You’re so lucky you got paired with him. He’s going to make our whole team look bad with how polished he is.”

I forced a laugh, but my chest felt hollow.

Hours later, the bus finally pulled into the countryside resort. It was sprawling, lush with greenery, the kind of place meant to feel like an escape. My colleagues spilled out, stretching, posing for pictures by the entrance.

I hung back, clutching my bag, trying to find comfort in the mundanity of it all. It was a beautiful place. With the chatter, the clatter of wheels on pavement, the hum of cicadas in the distance, the lush green landscape. And the day was bright and clear.

But then Declan was there, just a few feet away, his gaze catching mine before I could look down. For a heartbeat, neither of us moved. His expression was unreadable, but his eyes held a quiet weight, like he wanted to say something. Like he was waiting for me to let him.

I turned quickly, falling into step beside Ashley as we headed toward the check-in desk. My heart hammered against my ribs.

The first evening was meant to be ‘light’. They had planned a group dinner, some icebreakers, laughter meant to soften everyone before the work began. The dining hall was warm, lanterns glowing, food spread across long tables. I sat between Ashley and Priya, forcing myself to laugh when they teased each other, to join in when someone started a game about who could tell the most embarrassing childhood story.

But my eyes betrayed me.

Every so often, they drifted toward him. Declan sat across the room, animated as he spoke to Chris and Ms. Bergess. His laughter came easier here, though I noticed the tiredness in his posture, the way his hand lingered around his glass like he needed the grounding.

Once, in the middle of a story someone was telling, our eyes met. Just for a second. Long enough for my breath to catch, long enough to feel heat crawl up my neck. I looked away quickly, pretending to focus on Maya’s joke.

But the damage was done. My heart wouldn’t slow.

Later, when I finally slipped back to my room, I thought I would feel relief. A door between us, a bed of my own, silence. But as I lay down, staring at the wooden beams of the ceiling, all I could hear was his voice from days ago: Why are you still with him? Or is it fear keeping you there?

I turned onto my side, pulling the blanket up, willing sleep to come. But every time I closed my eyes, I saw his face across that crowded room.

And for the first time in years, I realized how dangerous it was. The way my heart still leapt at the sight of him. The way every time he was in the room, he was the only I could see, hear, feel.