I didn’t know you wanted to buy the camp yourself.”
That got her attention. Her eyes shot to him and narrowed. “You read my plan.”
“Your reaction to the news was the opposite of what I expected it to be. I thought you’d be happy, but you weren’t. I was trying to figure out why.”
“It was my plan, and it was none of your business.”
“It was in the trash.”
“Where it belonged. You should’ve left it there.”
“Maybe you’re right, but—”
“But you can’t leave things alone, can you? You always have to get involved because you know how to fix it, and you know better than anyone else.”
“That’s not fair.”
Anger brought her to her feet. “I’m not fair? That’s the pot calling the kettle black, don’t you think? Does it ever occur to you that someone else might know more about something than you do? I went to camp here for six years. My parents have owned it for five. That’s eleven years my family has invested here. You’ve been around for eight weeks, but in that time you’ve managed to come in and take over and jerk away something precious in my life. What’s fair about that?”
“You’re right. I should’ve talked to you, but I thought—”
“No, you didn’t. You didn’t think. You just reacted. You rushed in to save the day, playing the part of the hero like you always do.”
“If I was playing the part of the hero, it was only for you. I was trying to be your hero.”
“Don’t feed me that line. You’re still trying to be Dunk’s hero. You set out every day, trying to save Dunk, but every night, he’s still dead, so the nightmares torment you. The next day, you get up and start it all over again.”
Rick’s gut twisted. “This has nothing to do with Dunk. Leave him out of it.”
“You’re the one who needs to leave him out of it, but you can’t. You save your friends from the cave, save Kenny in the storm, save me from the snake, save the camp.... No matter how hard you try, how many people or things you save, you’re never going to save him. Dunk’s gone, Rick. Let him go.”
Her words drove into his brain like a fist, grasping something from its secret depths and jerking it unbidden to the surface.
“Dunk’s gone, Rick. Let him go.”
The sunlight around him fractured and the camera in his head zoomed Summer out. Her mouth moved, but her words were lost.
Dunk was in his arms.
Heat. Fire. Bullets zinging all around, the repetitive whine of ricochets off the stones. No plan, no strategy. Just run like hell. Get Dunk to someone who can get the bullet out of his neck.
Damn! He’s losing so much blood! Slick...hard to hold on to.
His muscles protested the double exertion, shook violently. Sweat poured into his eyes.
Can’t see...can’t see. Keep running.
Hands trying to pry Dunk free.
“Dunk’s gone, Rick. Let him go.” Asa’s voice.
No! Won’t let go! Letting go means... Oh, God! Not Dunk...please, not Dunk.
The film rolling in his head stopped and rewound. Back...further back.
The child was in Dunk’s arms.
“Give her to me. You can’t carry her.”
Dunk handed her over. They were running.
Zing! The bullet...one bullet...only one shot when they had the child. One shot...aimed at whoever wasn’t carrying the little girl.
And he’d taken her from Dunk’s grasp seconds before.
Rick’s eyes cleared to reveal Summer’s upraised chin, right in front of him. She advanced a couple of steps and stood close enough to touch him, but she didn’t. She couldn’t feel the icy tremors rolling down his spine, reverberating out to his fingers and toes.
He took a step backward toward the door. Retreating. “I’m sorry I called you selfish.” He barely recognized his own voice through the thin ringing in his ears. Oh, God! Was he going to pass out?
Summer reached around him and opened the screen door. “It doesn’t matter now.”
Rick backed through the door and off the porch, an eerie numbness settling deep in his chest. It seemed to originate from the granite star hanging on the chain and bored its way through the tattoo over his heart.
He stumbled to his cabin and into the bathroom where he heaved up the contents of his stomach. Filling the sink with cold water, he rinsed his face repeatedly until the nausea passed...but the truth remained.
Summer was right. He always had to be the hero.
And it had cost him the life of his best friend.
* * *
THE EXCITEMENT FROM THE afternoon of zip-lining had run its course, replaced