Page 14 of The No Repeat Policy

“How about we move the search bar down here.”

I tap Logan’s computer screen just below where a graphic of three very similar-looking sci-fi covers is featured under the company logo. “Give it some room to breathe.”

I never was fond of the search box being up in a website's header, but then again, I’m not exactly a front-end developer, so what do I know.

“’Kay, let’s see,”

Logan says and starts repositioning things on the screen. “What about here, over the banner?”

“I don’t know…”

I say. “If it were the main one maybe, but they’re going to want to have that area for ads and such.”

“Ah,”

Logan grumbles and moves the bar down. “That actually sparks another idea for the header.”

“Okay.”

I shake my head.

We’re on the third iteration of the new website layout. Basically it’s just the dark gold and black tree and mountain logo for Ellis Newman and some navigation tabs on a blank white screen at the moment. There are a few blocks of content, like a really simple book banner. It’s so stoic at the moment, and since I’m no designer, I refuse to handle this part of the process. I’ll build it once the design is settled on.

“How about you work on that some more and send me a few ideas when you get them?”

I ask him, standing upright and cracking my back.

Normally being back to work after a holiday sucks major ass. This morning though? I was so here for it. All it needed to be was anything but another day at my family’s house. I don’t care if it’s work.

“Can do.”

Logan nods. “Maybe end of day, Monday?”

“That works,”

I tell him.

“I’ll also send you a few ideas I had for it.”

Logan grins.

“Okay,” I huff.

It doesn’t have to be done tomorrow, calm it down, Kolton.

Ideas are good.

At least when they’re coming from co-workers and not my conservative-ass family.

It’s all I heard yesterday at Thanksgiving dinner down the mountain.

The number of times I heard how whiny Gen Zers are and how the Woke Mob—their term, not mine—is destroying this country was almost unbearable.

It’s as if giving a fuck about others and wanting your fair share is an abnormality and crime against nature.

The looks my older brother gave me.

It was that knowing disgust, like he was trying to tell me he knew I fucked the hell out of guys, like it was on par with supporting genocide overseas.

And of course, the constant jabs from Dad, wondering when I was going to finally find me a girl.

Honestly, I don’t know why I go down there anymore.

I’m genuinely relieved, relieved, to be coming back up the mountain.

Relieved to come up to Boone! Never imagined I’d think that, but of course anything is better than being stuck in bigot heaven, aka any caring person’s hell.

“I’ll start getting you a list of functionalities and some idea of the graphics we’ll need.”

I pat Logan’s shoulder. He’s a cutie but not really my type. Not sure if it’s his curly hair or the patchy stubble around his chin, like some fifteen-year-old on a twenty-something-year-old, or maybe it’s the way his nose flattens at the end. I love a pale boy, but I actually like his light brown skin, a true gift of his Middle Eastern heritage.

“Perfect,”

he calls back as I walk around his desk and into the hallway. I wave and take off down the carpeted floor.

My office isn’t far. I pass Madison on the way and give her a sly grin. She finally admitted last night that she’s talking to Bradley still. She promised to give me all the details on lunch today.

I get past Chad with only a nod and make it two doors down and I’m “home.”

Chad’s okay, but he’s just too excitable. I’ve realized that everything is too big-news when it comes to him. He stopped me on Tuesday to show me a video of his dog sitting on command like it was the coolest thing ever. It might have been a shit move, but I pulled out my phone and showed him a few pics of Sasha, making sure to tell him how she already knew how to sit when I got her. It just felt appropriate.

Also, while I’m on Sasha, it’s weird how hard it was to leave her at home this morning. I spent all day with her yesterday. Playing fetch, fighting for the bone I got her at the local pet store, watching TV. Leaving her this morning was hard. I almost let her follow me to the car, but I figured that might be frowned upon, so I let my better judgement take over and patted her head and told her I’d see her tonight. I need to go to the store and get a picture of her printed out so I can have one on my desk.

Oh my God. I’m becoming that crazy dog dad. Shit.

“Kolton.”

Mr. Ellis rolls around the door just as I finally take a seat. I jump back up and go alert. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you, buddy.”

Buddy? That’s a new one.

“It’s fine,”

I tell him. “I’d just gotten back.”

“I wanted to invite you to the company’s annual Christmas retreat,”

Mr. Ellis says, and without thinking, I crinkle my nose and eyebrows.

Christmas retreat?

“Retreat?”

I ask. Party is what I expected to hear. Like maybe everyone meeting up here after hours and exchanging gifts, but a retreat sounds like more. A lot more.

“You heard right,”

he says. It’s like he knew I’d be surprised. “We have it every year up in Greene Mountain in early December. Lawrence, Gregory, and I have a cabin up there. It’s like a free little getaway for us and our employees. Y’all basically are family.”

Family? This just keeps getting crazier. I’ve not been around long enough to be family. However, a free retreat at a cabin sounds pretty sweet.

“When is it?”

I asked. I’m definitely intrigued.

“End of next week,”

he says. “We usually have a big meal that Friday night to start off, then everyone is welcome to stay the weekend. We have board games if you need entertainment, and all the streaming services.”

“So do—” I start.

“Everyone gets that Friday off.”

Mr. Ellis grins. “Paid.”

“Oh, in that case…”

I smile back. You can’t really beat that. Free room and board, and getting paid. “That sounds great, actually.”

“I’ll count you in then,”

Mr. Ellis says.

He’s about to leave when I remember Sasha. I don’t know anyone up here to take care of her, and I can’t just leave her alone. Not for that long.

“Sir?”

I call after him.

“Yes.”

He turns back around.

“Are dogs allowed? I just adopted a Husky and I don’t really know—”

Mr. Ellis puts up a hand. “Of course dogs are allowed. Pam would kill me if I didn’t allow dogs.”

“I’ll be there then!”