Page 61 of Over the Edge

He chased a lone green bean around his plate.

After four months of frequent dating, he should have realized the whitewater rafting outing he’d encouraged her to sign up for during her vacation would be too much of a stretch. Sweet as she was, she hadn’t had an athletic bone in her body. In truth, much as he’d liked her, their leisure interests were polar opposites. Outdoor activities for him, needlepoint and afternoon tea for her.

In hindsight, it was clear a long-term relationship hadn’t been in the cards for them and that it had been wrong to suggest she broaden her horizons with an activity more suited to his interests than hers.

He stabbed the bean, but instead of eating it, he laid his fork down.

Encouraging her to go whitewater rafting had been as misguided as someone privy to his background suggesting he go rock climbing, knowing it could be a recipe for disaster.

As the rafting had been for Clair after she’d fallen out of the boat, hit her head on a rock, and been dragged under the rapids.

The lasagna in his stomach hardened into a rock.

What had he been thinking?

And how was he ever going to make peace with the guilt that—

“... lost him a while back.”

At Bri’s comment, he refocused on the conversation. “I’ve been listening.” Sort of. “Those journals seem like they would be of more interest to a linguist than someone with your background.” A shot in the dark, but if an arcane language was involved, his comment shouldn’t be too far off base.

“Huh.” Cara considered him. “Maybe hewaslistening.”

“Nah. He’s just good at faking it.” Bri gave a dismissive wave. “You want to tell us what you were really thinking about—or can I guess?”

Instead of answering her question, he shifted his attention to Cara. “You ready for a sundae?”

“Yes. And for the record, if youhavemet someone, I hope it works out for you.”

“I hope it does too. When the right woman comes along.” He stood. “Bri, you want a sundae?”

“Yes. My sweet tooth will be satisfied, even if my curiosity won’t.” She heaved a theatrical sigh, rose, and began to clear the table. “If you do get serious about this woman, tell me we won’t be the last to know.”

“You’ll be at the top of the list. But don’t hold your breath.”

“I don’t know. I sense romance in the air.”

Jack snorted. “Blame that on Marc.”

“For what it’s worth, I get the same vibes. And there’s no Marc in my life.” A hint of wistfulness threaded through Cara’s words.

Jack gave her shoulder a squeeze. “Don’t give up hope.”

“No worries. Hope springs eternal and all that. But I’m fine either way. I mean, I have a wonderful life and a career I love and a fantastic family. What’s to complain about, right?”

“Right.” Nevertheless, there was much to be said for having someone to come home to at night. Or so he’d been thinking lately. “Three sundaes coming up.”

During the remainder of his sisters’ visit, the conversation transitioned to more neutral topics, their usual lighthearted banter and teasing a welcome interlude in what otherwise had been an emotional roller coaster of a day.

By the time he walked Bri and Cara to the door later in the afternoon, his mental state was much more upbeat.

Yet as he doled out hugs, waved them off, and turned to face his empty house, his dilemma came roaring back.

What could he say to Lindsey that would convince her to forgive him for the role he’d played in her friend’s death?

Thirteen

“SORRY FOR SCHEDULING ANOTHERafter-hours Monday appointment, Dr. Oliver. This is getting to be a bad habit.”

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