mean I’m ever going to have the amount of money to buy this place out from under him. The land itself is worth far, far more than the business standing on it.” She reached to touch his shoulder. Then caught herself midair. “You’re a sport’s reporter, not a millionaire.”
“George asked me to come up because he had something important to talk to me about before the canoe trip. Do you know what it was?”
She sat straight. “No. I honestly don’t.” For that matter she didn’t really know why George had wanted her to take down the old boxes of camp records and photographs. “I just presumed he wanted to talk to you about a newspaper article.”
To their left, an aquatic obstacle course hung over the surface of the water in a collection of nets, tires and climbing ropes. They glided past it. Then, to the right, they could see the small sliver of murky sand that formed the island’s only beach. A thin wooden dock ran along one side of it with a red-and-white sign that warned potential trespassers they were entering Camp Spirit property. She tossed the rope around a pillar, caught it on the first try and pulled the craft in to the dock.
They climbed out and she sighed. The beach was a mess of driftwood and seaweed. Trevor was supposed to have done a proper cleanup of the campsite earlier in the week. Apparently he hadn’t bothered.
“Looks like I’m going to need two pairs of hands, after all. I’ll run ahead to the campsite and make sure it’s not a mess. If you could stay here and clear some of this mess off the beach...that would be amazing.”
“You sure you’re okay going off alone, after everything that happened this morning?” Luke sounded concerned. He had no reason to be. Whether they were on the mainland or the island, this camp was still her baby.
“Absolutely. You’re probably more sore from catching me that I am from crashing into you.” Light rain began to fall, dimpling the water and denting the mud by her feet. She started up the beach. The ground was scuffed with footprints. Even worse. Trespassers always made a mess of things. “Also, it looks like the island had a visitor recently. Fortunately, whoever they were, they’re gone now, otherwise their boat would still be here. There’s nowhere else on the island they could’ve safely moored.”
Luke ran his hand through his hair. “Thanks again for letting me come with you. I know this isn’t the ideal place for us to talk, but I thought it was important we cleared the air as soon as possible.” There was a smile back in his voice again.
But this time she didn’t smile back. Between the rain, Trevor’s failure to get his work done and the signs of a trespasser, her evening had just gotten a whole lot busier. “I appreciate that. But it’s okay. Really. You’ve apologized. I’ve accepted it. And I had a whole half-hour-long boat ride to let it sink in.” Because that’s what adults did in situations like this. They got over things. They didn’t let themselves fall into a cute guy’s arms and cry, no matter how stressed, worried and tired they felt.
She turned toward the woods. Branches were broken along the path that led to the campsite. Whoever had stopped by the island had also done some exploring while they were here. There was an arrow imbedded in the tree ahead of her. Slim, vicious, with jagged metal in the head. A titanium hunter’s arrow. She grit her teeth and yanked it out of the wood. “Looks like our trespasser is also a hunter, and decided to use the trees for target practice.”
Luke snorted. “Well, that’s a super-expensive arrow for someone to go shooting into trees on a little island like this. That’s the kind of gear you’d expect from someone who’d just dropped a few thousand bucks on a high-tech compound bow because they figured they’d go illegally bag a few bears or moose.”
She blinked. He was absolutely right. But she hardly expected Luke to know that. “You know archery?”
“Now I do.” He stepped closer and looked down at the arrow in her hands. “Been taking lessons for years and brought my bow up just in case I got the chance to shoot a few at your range on the mainland. I didn’t actually know the first thing about archery back when you knew me before. Just pretended I did to impress you. But the way you used to talk about it left me itching to try it. Even learned enough woodworking to make my very own recurve bow.”
Her heart stopped. She’d been huge into woodwork that summer, too, and had spent days carving him something special. She could still remember the pounding in her chest when she’d handed him the wooden animal she’d carved. Not to mention her devastation when she’d run to their meeting spot the next day to find it empty and wondered if her clumsy attempt at a gift had been what scared him off. Despite everything her brain might say, her heart could remember it like yesterday.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” His chest was so close she could almost see his breath rise and fall. The raincoat he’d grabbed from the boat still hung open. The shirt underneath was almost soaked through. “Look, I know you said you’re okay to just head off alone. But I can tell you’re upset. I can see it in your eyes. I get you’re just being professional about everything and I really respect that. But don’t feel like you have to put on a brave face around me. We used to tell each other everything, Nicky. We used to be friends. If there’s anything I can do, I want to help.”
She bit her lip. The memory of his arms wrapped around her swept through her core like a visceral ache. Yeah, she wanted a hug. No, she wasn’t about to let him give it. “No, Luke. I used to tell you everything. I was honest with you. That apparently never cut both ways.” She sighed. “And it was probably a mistake to let you come along.”
She tossed the arrow onto the beach and strode up the hill.
* * *
He watched her go, feeling his gut sink into the sand at his feet.
He’d hurt her. Badly.
Did she honestly believe everything they’d shared back then had been a lie? Yes, he’d only given her a nickname and he’d hidden where he was from—both rotten things to have done. But everything he’d felt for her and everything she’d meant to him had made it the most real and honest human connection he’d ever had in his life. Not that she was likely to ever believe that now.
His mind filled with memories of just a few hours earlier—her body crashing into his arms, relief filling his chest, the smell of her smoky hair as they fell backward onto the ground.
Thank You, God, that I actually did right by her, at least once in my life.
He grabbed a hunk of driftwood and threw it hard into the bushes. It wasn’t as though things would be any better if he told her the whole story. He’d been a petty thief and a runaway, sleeping in an abandoned cabin and scrounging whatever he could steal. The last time they’d met, he’d realized they’d grown too emotionally close and he hadn’t wanted to risk getting caught. So he’d broken into George’s office and tried to steal the camp’s cash box. George had caught him and carted him off to the police to spend the night in a jail cell. Then, the next morning, the first man of God he’d ever met had come back, given him the cash box money for his bail, let him detox off drugs on his couch and helped him by offering him a chance to earn himself a life he could be proud of.
And I did everything in my power to pay him back for that, every chance I got.
The sound of Nicky running through the woods faded to silence. He had a pretty good guess about what would happen if he told her all that. Her walls would fall and her heart would overflow with compassion. She’d always been far more caring than a jerk like him had deserved.
He didn’t deserve her sympathy. And she deserved better than him.
A scream split the air. Loud. Terrified.
“Nicky!” He ran toward the noise. Branches struck his body. His heart smacked hard in his chest. Her screams seemed to come from all directions at once. Then the wall of trees gave way to a clearing and a ring of tent platforms on cinder-block bases.
Nicky was down in the dirt, her face pressed into the ground. A figure stood over her. The