Page 12

JASON

I ’m not spying.

Let’s just get that clear.

I’m walking past the office—like a normal, shirtless man with a clipboard and a mission to track down the missing guitar tuner—when I hear Alice’s voice drift through the cracked window.

I stop. Freeze, really.

It’s her tone that gets me.

Quiet. Uncertain. A little frayed around the edges.

Julie’s in there too. I hear her laugh softly. “No pressure, Alice. Just think about it.”

“I am,” Alice replies. “I just... I’m not sure. It’s been a lot.”

I lean in an inch. Just one.

Not spying.

Just... investigating.

Alice sighs. “This place means more to me than I thought it would. But that doesn’t automatically mean I belong here full-time.”

Something cold stirs in my chest.

Julie says something else—reassuring, soft. I can’t make out the words. Then footsteps, and I’m backing away like a guilty raccoon caught raiding the snack tent.

I duck behind the bulletin board just as the door swings open.

Alice walks out.

She doesn’t see me.

She’s fidgeting with the sleeve of her hoodie, biting the inside of her cheek.

And the cold in my chest goes from a stir to a throb.

She’s leaving.

Maybe not today. Maybe not tomorrow.

But she’s already pulling away.

I don’t talk to her during lunch.

I mean, I say hi. Smile. Keep the banter up with the kids.

But I don’t sit next to her.

Because if I do, I’ll say something stupid. Like “Don’t leave.” Or “Was that kiss just for fun?” Or worse—“Tell me it mattered.”

I’m not built for this kind of vulnerability.

Give me a mud pit, a broken canoe, a kid shifting into a badger mid-talent show—I can handle that.

But this?

Watching her smile like nothing’s wrong when I’m trying not to unravel in front of thirty campers eating dinosaur nuggets?

Nah.

Can’t do it.

After lunch, I find myself dragging a rake across the archery range. Not because it needs raking. But because I need something to do with my hands before I find myself ripping pinecones apart or accidentally shifting just to release tension.

“What’d that dirt ever do to you?” Julie’s voice startles me.

I blink. Realize I’ve been stabbing the same patch of earth for ten minutes.

Julie walks over, sipping iced tea like it’s a personality trait. “Everything okay?”

“Peachy,” I mutter.

She tilts her head. “You’ve got the same look I did when my ex texted me ‘Hope you’re doing well’ after ghosting me for four months.”

I snort. “That’s oddly specific.”

“Because it’s true.”

I shake my head. “It’s nothing.”

Julie pauses. “Does this nothing have to do with a certain counselor whose name rhymes with ‘palace’?”

I don’t respond.

She nods slowly. “Thought so.”

I glance down at the rake. “She’s... amazing. And I think I’m falling.”

Julie grins. “You think?”

“I know. But I overheard her talking about not coming back next summer. And it felt like...”

“Like someone pulled the floor out from under you.”

“Exactly.”

She pats my arm. “Then maybe talk to her.”

I grip the rake tighter. “I don’t want to guilt her into staying. I want her to choose this. To choose me.”

Julie nods. “Then maybe let her.”

That night, I see her again.

She’s sitting on the dock alone, feet dangling above the water, hugging a clipboard like it can keep her from drifting off.

I stay back.

Because if I get any closer, I might ask her what we’re doing. Where we’re going. What that kiss meant.

And I’m not sure I’m ready for the answer.

So I just watch her from a distance, heart thudding, telling myself I can wait.

Even if it’s killing me.