Love without a Compass. Lindy Zart

And I don’t know where one ends and the other begins.”

      “Then what do you suggest?” she says through her teeth.

      I rub my face, already weary from this ordeal, and I get the feeling it’s only just begun. “I don’t know. Sit and wait? Moving around is going to get us more lost.”

      “No.” Avery jabs a finger at me, grazing my nose.

      “No?”

      “No. I’m not sitting and I’m not waiting.” She shakes her head. “Life doesn’t come to you; you have to go to it.”

      I make an incredulous sound. My exasperation knows no bounds when it comes to this woman. “Avery, this isn’t work. You aren’t pitching some inspirational slogan or greeting card speech. There is no makeup account, no athletic apparel company. It’s just you and me.”

      “I would win if there was,” she retorts waspishly.

      “Win? Did you listen to any part of Duke’s speech last month? It isn’t about winning. Any sale the company gets is good for all of us.” I sound like a hypocrite as I spew forth Duke’s words. I feel like one too. “We’re not supposed to try to outdo each other. We’re supposed to support one another at Sanders and Sisters. We’re supposed to be family.”

      She just looks at me, steely-eyed and motionless.

      I sigh. “All right, I didn’t listen to the speech either. If I had—if we all had—maybe we wouldn’t be here right now.”

      “Do you think he meant it?”

      “Who meant what?” I ask, annoyed by the vague question.

      “Duke. When he called us family, do you think he meant it?”

      I find the question odd, as well as the way she waits expectantly, never once shifting her gaze from me. “I have not one clue, and frankly, I don’t care right now.”

      “I wonder why we haven’t seen any of the others,” she says absently, her eyes skimming the vicinity as if she’s hoping one of our coworkers will pop up from behind a tree and rescue us.

      “Because they’re where they should be, and we are not.”

      Avery looks at me, frowning. “You blame me for us being lost, don’t you?”

      “No,” I bite out.

      I don’t blame Avery for us being lost. I do blame her for a lot of other things though, like us being sent here in the first place. Things were fine until she came along and upended Sanders and Sisters, along with my reality. She stole commissions from me one by one with an innocent smile and feigned ignorance. It was as ifshe specifically had it out for me, outpitching me any chance she got.

      I was Duke Renner’s number one, and then, I wasn’t.

      Avery turns to me, a hint of the sweet, citrus scent somehow remaining. “Do you have any idea at all where we are?” she asks. The determined set of her jaw wavered at some point over the last few hours; the fierce light in her eyes dimmed.

      I rub my jaw. “I’m guessing we’re on a direct route to hell.”

      “But really, do you?”

      All I have to do is look at her.

      Avery’s shoulders slump.

      Even though neither of us say the words out loud, she knows it as well as I do.

      We are so fricking lost.

      And I don’t mean a little lost. I mean, we have not a single clue as to where we are, where we started, or where we need to go. I can feel us getting sucked into the wilderness; it’s an unseen hand that guides us into nowhere. Clearly, the employees of Extreme Retreat overestimated our ability to stay on course, because we have nothing in the backpack to alert anyone as to our location.

      Avery studies the land. “We have to run into someone else eventually, right? We can’t be the only ones out here.”

      I don’t even bother answering that. I’m a city guy from Illinois who’s never set foot on anything remotely resembling a mountain. And Avery? Avery doesn’t like to be outside. We’re doomed.

      Avery’s quiet for a moment. “Is the national forest really that big?”

      “Bigger than you realize,” I answer honestly.

      She quickly looks away, but not before I see the resignation in her eyes. Something about seeing Avery beaten down makes me uncomfortable, which is exactly the opposite of how I thought it would make me feel.

      “I want to keep moving,” Avery announces. “I can’t stand not moving.”

      “I read that if you ever get lost you should stay in one spot.”

      Avery shakes her head. “I want to walk, Ben. I’ll go without you if I have to.”

      “That’s not smart.”

      She stares woodenly back.

      I sigh and run a hand through my hair.

      Avery doesn’t move.

      Maybe I’m as gullible as everyone else, I think as I contemplate giving in to her in order to not see Avery sad. I shake my head. No way that’s it. But then I vow something I have no right doing. “We can walk for a while. We’ll find the lodge, don’t worry.”

      A faint shine returns to her eyes, some straightness to her spine, and I realize something. I am as susceptible to her charm as everyone else. I inwardly shake my head at myself. I’m a fool, plain and simple. The glimpses of a softer Avery Scottam are lies. They don’t really exist. I have to remember that. Still, if any part of her is genuine, I hope it’s the part she’s showing me now.

      I let out a noisy breath of air and lift an eyebrow at my teammate. “Ready for some more walking?”

      Avery nods, and we continue on our path to an undesignated destination.

      6

      AVERY

      The words that instantly come to mind are “Oh” and “God” when the sky splits open without warning. Rain pummels the earth, and us along with it. It only takes seconds to be completely sopping wet. Standing close to the ledge of a hill that feels more like a mountain, I look at Ben, who is equally drowned. I guess, at least, we’re a little cleaner than we were moments ago. And the rain isn’t cold, so that’s another plus. Ben’s clothes are vacuum-sealed to his body, emphasizing ridges and valleys I’d rather explore than anything presently around us.

      “This is nice, right? Very relaxing,” I say conversationally. It’s amazing how clearly I can see his glower around the sheet of rain hindering my eyesight.

      Ben skims a hand over his wet hair, a chunk of it rebelling and falling over his forehead. “This is ridiculous.”

      “But in a nice way,” I remind him.

      I’m sure I imagine the judgmental look on Ben’s face, the expression stating that I am insane. The rain, you know…so distorting.

      “No. Not in a nice way,” he retorts, swiping an arm across his face. “As in, this is the last thing we need right now.”

      I watch Ben become taller and wonder how I’m shrinking. Then I realize I’m not shrinking, but sinking into the ground. I look down, amazed to find my shoes lodged in mud. How did that happen without my knowledge? The gap grows between Ben and me, and I catch his frown as I begin to slip down the slope. I look up just as the ground crumbles beneath me. I reach for something to hang on to, but there isn’t anything. Unable to keep my balance, I fall.

      A hand lassoes my wrist, stalling my ride. “Is that you, Ben?”

      “No, it’s the Jolly Green Giant. Yes, it’s me.”

      “Don’t be such a stick in the mud.” I look at the rain as