41
The sun sat high in the sky, warm but softened by the light breeze rolling off the forest. It was early afternoon, and the camp staff had just finished explaining the rules for the next group activity—The Tube Hunt.
A simple game, but competitive enough to stir excitement. Somewhere within a wide section of the woods, dozens of colored plastic tubes had been hidden, each one containing a folded strip of paper with a simple task or reflective question written inside. The team that found the most by the end of the allotted time would win something vague and mysterious: “a special surprise,” as one of the staffers had said with a mischievous grin.
Everyone was to be paired up. The names had already been randomly drawn and written on a laminated list, which the facilitator now read aloud.
“Devon and Carolina.”
Carolina blinked, then shrugged, shooting a quick look at Katherine as if to say well, this should be interesting.
“Kingsley and Katherine.”
There was a pause—only a second, maybe less—but it was dense. Katherine turned slightly, catching Kingsley’s eyes from across the group. Neither of them moved. Then, without a word, she adjusted her backpack strap and took a slow breath.
Carolina leaned in close and muttered, “This camp is starting to feel a little scripted.”
Katherine gave her a look. “Don’t start.”
Carolina raised her hands. “I’m just saying. Random? Please. Anyway, good luck, you and Mr. Frank.”
Katherine ignored that last jab and stepped toward Kingsley. He had already begun walking toward her.
“I guess we’re stuck,” she said flatly.
Kingsley gave a small nod. “I don’t mind.”
The facilitator handed out little drawstring bags to each team to collect the tubes. “You’ve got ninety minutes. Stay within the flagged area, and don’t open the tubes until you’re done. Work together. Talk. Have fun.”
With that, the group began to scatter—some teams already jogging off excitedly toward the wooded edge of the property.
Kingsley gestured toward the nearest trail. “That way?”
Katherine gave a small shrug and started walking.
The trees swallowed them quickly. It was quieter here, shaded, the sound of the other campers fading behind them like background noise in a memory. Birds chirped in intervals, and the crunch of leaves and twigs beneath their shoes punctuated the otherwise peaceful silence.
For a while, they walked without speaking, both scanning the forest floor and nearby branches for the telltale glint of plastic tube caps. After a few minutes, Kingsley spotted one—wedged between two rocks near the base of a tree.
He knelt, pulled it out, and slid it into the bag. “One.”
Katherine kept walking. “Good for you.”
Kingsley stood, brushing dirt off his hands. “I’m not trying to make this weird.”
“Too late.”
“Okay.” He gave her a glance, then let out a breath. “Just… trying to be present.”
They kept going, and a few more minutes passed before Katherine broke the silence again.
“You’re not very good at scavenger hunts.”
“I’m pacing myself,” he replied dryly. “Wouldn’t want to peak too early.”
That made her lips twitch, though she didn’t smile. They found another tube near a moss-covered log and added it to their bag.
Farther ahead, Katherine spotted one hanging from a branch. She reached for it and turned, tossing it into the bag with ease. “Three.”
Kingsley raised an eyebrow. “You’re competitive.”
“I don’t like losing,” she said.
“I remember.”
He hadn’t meant it with any bitterness, but it lingered in the space between them like the shadow of a shared history.
As they pressed deeper into the woods, their rhythm started to even out. No longer strangers sharing the same trail, they moved in tandem—sometimes passing each other, sometimes stopping to check beneath a pile of leaves or between roots.
They found a fourth tube near a hollow stump.
“How many is that?” Kingsley asked.
“Four,” Katherine replied, glancing at him. “Try to keep up.”
He smiled slightly. “I’m trying.”
They kept pressing deeper into the woods until they found another tube, they had five tubes in their bag now, and the forest was beginning to quiet, the way it sometimes does when the afternoon stretches toward early evening and the sun begins thinking about setting. Dappled light fell through the trees in warm patches, and somewhere in the distance, a hawk called once, then vanished into silence.
Katherine ducked under a low branch, her ponytail catching on a twig before she shook it free. “At the pace we’re going,” she said, tossing another tube into the bag, “we might actually win this thing.”
Kingsley let out a light laugh. “Look at us. A power team.”
Katherine raised an eyebrow, then—softly, like something she wasn’t quite ready to say but said anyway—murmured, “Yeah. We make a good team.”
He looked over at her, but she was already walking ahead.
They moved quietly for a few more minutes, then veered toward a clearing where a wooden bench sat half-covered in moss. Katherine gestured toward it. “Break?”
Kingsley nodded, and they sat. The bag of collected tubes sat at their feet.
She tilted her face to the sunlight peeking through the trees. “It’s peaceful here.”
He watched her a moment before speaking. “The café. I wouldn’t have guessed.”
She glanced at him. “What café?”
“The Quiet Brew,” he said. “Carolina mentioned it… and I saw it, obviously, when I came.” He paused. “I didn’t know you’d always wanted to do something like that.”
Katherine gave a half-smile, toying with the zipper of her jacket. “Yeah. It’s one of those things I’ve always had tucked somewhere in the back of my mind. A quiet place, a couple shelves of books, plants in the windows… peace.” She shrugged. “Just never felt like the right time. Or maybe I didn’t have the space to talk about it.”
Kingsley frowned. “Why not?”
She looked at him then, straight on. “Because when I used to talk about business ideas with you, you were always thinking big—like, luxury hotel chains, venture capital, investment portfolios… there wasn’t exactly room for ‘I want to open a little café.’ It always felt small. Like something you’d nod at, but not take seriously.”
He sat with that, his fingers resting loosely on his knees. “I didn’t know.”
“I know,” she said gently. “It’s okay. I didn’t say it out loud either, not really. I guess I thought maybe it didn’t matter enough.”
Kingsley turned to her fully. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I never asked what you wanted. Not really. Not in a way that gave you space to answer.”
Katherine’s eyes dropped to the forest floor. A small breeze stirred the leaves around their feet. “It’s okay,” she said, almost a whisper. “It’s just one of those things, you know?”
There was a beat of silence before Kingsley asked, “Do you remember that night when you brought me back from the hospital to the apartment?”
She blinked, a bit surprised. “yes, it had that weird green kitchen tile?”
He chuckled. “Yeah. You made grilled cheese with thyme and I burned the soup.”
Katherine laughed now, really laughed, the sound light and real. “That soup was awful.”
“And you were wearing that old Yankees sweatshirt. We ate on the floor.”
“And we drank wine out of paper cups because we couldn’t find the glasses.”
Kingsley smiled, the memory washing over him. “You were happy that night.”
“I was,” she said softly, still looking down. “I was.”
The quiet settled again, heavier this time. Not awkward, but real. Honest.
He looked at her. “I miss that version of us.”
Kingsley looked at her, his voice low and unguarded. “I miss that version of us.”
Katherine didn’t respond right away. Her eyes stayed on the patch of moss between her shoes, like she was thinking about something she hadn’t let herself think in a long time.
“I miss us,” he added, quieter this time. “Do you?”
The pause was long. He could hear the stream behind them, the breeze rustling through the trees, the distant sound of someone laughing far off on the trail.
Then finally, he said, “Do you ever miss us… even just sometimes?”
Katherine looked at him for a moment, unreadable. Then she looked away.
“Let’s go,” she said, brushing a leaf off her pants. “We need to find one more if we’re going to win this thing.”
She bent, picked up her small backpack from the ground, and slung it over her shoulder. Her tone was steady, casual, but Kingsley could hear the subtle shift. A wall going back up.
He nodded wordlessly, picked up his own bag, and fell in step behind her.
She had dodged the question. He knew it. But he also knew better than to push her—not here, not now.
They kept walking through the narrow trail, their steps soft against the pine needles and underbrush. Sunlight filtered through the canopy above, casting a golden shimmer on the forest floor. For a moment, it was quiet between them again—companionable, but distant.
Then a loud cyrine rang out in the distance—three sharp beeps echoing through the trees.
“That’s it,” Katherine said, stopping mid-step. “It’s over.”
They turned around and began heading back, the path gradually filling with other pairs emerging from different directions. Some looked thrilled, others exhausted. A few were already chatting about what they’d found or how close they came to winning.
When they reached the main clearing, the event coordinator stood on a small platform with a clipboard and a megaphone.
“All right everyone! First off—congratulations! You all survived The Ridge Retreat Scavenger Sprint!” a round of half-hearted cheers followed, laughter echoing here and there. “You’ve earned your lunch and your naps.”
Some groaned gratefully.
“But we do have a winning team!” she continued, glancing at her clipboard. “With Six total finds… Carolina and Devon!”
Carolina jumped slightly, surprised, then turned to Devon beside her with wide eyes.
“Oh my god,” she whispered. “We actually won?”
Devon grinned and lifted his hand for a high-five. “Power duo.”
Everyone clapped as the two stepped forward.
“As your prize,” the coordinator announced, “you two get a private afternoon sail around Willow Lake with a picnic basket for two. Everything packed and ready—courtesy of the camp.”
“Ooooh,” someone in the back whistled.
Carolina raised her eyebrows dramatically and turned to Katherine, whispering, “private afternoon sail around Willow Lake with picnic basket .”
Katherine chuckled and gave her a playful shove. “Enjoy it. You earned it.”
After the prize was announced, the coordinator raised her megaphone again. “And for everyone else—you each get one of these!” She held up a small metal pin shaped like a compass rose.
“Your official Scavenger Hunt Badge. Wear it with pride. Stick it on your lanyard. Or give it to someone you’re crushing on. I don’t care.”
People laughed and moved forward in line to collect the badges.
As Katherine and Kingsley took theirs, the coordinator added, “Be sure to rest up. You’ll need your energy tonight. Bonding activity at 7:30.”
Kingsley glanced at Katherine as she stepped aside
Katherine stopped a few steps away from the crowd and turned back toward him. Her face was calm, but her eyes held the weight of something she had carried too long.
“You asked if I miss us,” she said quietly. “Yes. I did. I missed us like crazy.”
Kingsley blinked, caught off guard by the sudden honesty in her voice. But she didn’t stop.
“I missed the way we used to talk. The way we laughed. I missed being your person. But you know what else I felt?” Her voice hardened, just slightly. “I felt what you did. I felt how you threw me away. How you asked me for a divorce like I was a contract that ran out. How you treated me after, like I was the one who had broken everything.”
She paused, watching something in him flinch.
“It was hard for me to heal, Kingsley. You can’t even comprehend what I went through trying to piece myself back together.”
He tried to speak—tried to say her name—but she held up a hand.
“And now? Now I’ve moved on. I really have. And I do appreciate that you’re trying to open up all the wounds again. Because remembering all this—how much I loved you, how you changed—also reminds me why I had to let go. Why I had to survive it.”
She took a breath. Her voice dropped lower. Steadier.
“So… you asked for friendship? Fine. We’re friends. That’s all I see you as right now. No feelings. Nothing else.”
Kingsley looked at her, his lips slightly parted. But there was nothing to say. Not now. Maybe not ever.
Katherine gave a tight nod. “And I’ll appreciate it if you move forward with that in mind. I’m not trying to bring up the past,” she added, her eyes narrowing. “But I won’t let it repeat either.”
Then she turned and walked off—shoulders straight, pace steady. She didn’t look back.
And Kingsley just stood there in the clearing, surrounded by the buzz of campers and the rustling of trees, suddenly feeling very, very alone.