Chapter 45 Lindsay
Chapter forty-five
Lindsay
Sunlight hits the kitchen counters at an angle that makes the quartz glow faintly, like it’s pleased with itself.
I’m barefoot, coffee warming my hands, scrolling through my calendar—not because I’m anxious, but because I’m curious.
Quinn insisted on color-coding it.
“You need visual proof that your life isn’t just one long crisis response,” she said, dragging events into neat little blocks like she was playing Tetris with my existence.
Today’s block is labeled in bold font.
Hobby Experiment #14: Archery
I still don’t know how I feel about that.
Quinn breezes in right on time, sunglasses perched on her head, leggings immaculate, energy dialed to brisk-but-pleasant.
“You ready, Katniss?” she asks, snagging a mug from the cabinet like this is her house too.
“I’ve never even held a bow,” I say.
“Perfect,” she replies. “Zero expectations. My favorite starting point.”
Arthur passes through the kitchen, jacket already on, phone tucked away for once.
He stops when he sees me.
His eyes do that thing—brief, assessing, warm.
“You look great,” he says.
"I'm doing archery today."
He nods, like that makes perfect sense.
He leans down, kisses me—easy, unhurried, the kind of kiss that doesn’t ask for anything—and then he’s gone, leaving behind the faintest disruption in the air, like a door closing softly.
Quinn watches the entire exchange with open approval.
“You two are so cute,” she says. “I love to see it.”
The archery range is outdoors, tucked into a green space that smells like cut grass and sun-warmed wood. Targets line up in neat rows, red and yellow rings bright against the neutral backdrops.
I feel absurdly underqualified.
The instructor is calm, patient, doesn’t look twice at the bag when I set it down. Quinn signs us in while I take it all in—the quiet concentration of the other participants, the gentle thud of arrows hitting foam.
“This is about posture,” the instructor says. “Not force.”
I like that.
I’m adjusting my stance when a woman nearby squints at me.
“Wait,” she says. “You’re the one who organized that fundraiser pop-up last month. The one with the community art auction?”
It takes me a second to place it. Hobby Experiment number six.
“Oh. Yes. That was me.”
She smiles. “That was really well done. My niece’s school raised more money in one night than they usually do in a semester.”
I return her smile.
“Thank you,” I say, and mean it.
She turns back to her target, satisfied, and just like that the moment is over.
Quinn nudges me. “See? You’re a person in the world.”
“Crazy,” I murmur.
Archery turns out to be harder than it looks. My first arrow goes wide. The second lands low. The third actually sticks in the outer ring and I grin like I’ve won an Olympic medal.
“That’s it,” the instructor says. “Don’t rush the release.”
I draw the bow again. Breathe. Let go.
The arrow flies clean.
I don’t hit the bullseye.
I don’t care.
Quinn claps anyway. “That one had intent.”
We sit on a bench afterward, drinking water, watching other people take their turns. My arms are pleasantly sore. My mind is quiet.
I check my phone. There’s a message from Arthur.
Henry wants your opinion on the New Age of Legends expansion pack?
I smile at the screen.
We'll talk about it at home.
I type back.
Save me the good tea.
The reply comes quickly.
Always.
As we pack up, I sling the sparkly bag over my shoulder. It catches the light, ridiculous and unapologetic.
Quinn raises an eyebrow. “See? Still you.”
“Very much,” I say.
On the drive home, I think about how full the day feels—not loud, not dramatic. Just solid. Chosen.
I didn’t have to earn this version of myself.
I just had to stop leaving.
When I step back into the house later, it doesn’t feel like something I’m entering carefully. It feels like something I belong to.
And for the first time in a long time, I’m not wondering how to fit.
I already do.