Page 69 of It Happened on the Lake

“What? Nearly killing yourself in the river?”

“Yeah, I know, but hell, it makes me feel alive now.”

“You’re wasted. Too high.”

“Probably.” He pulled himself into a sitting position, the love beads glinting beneath the collar of his jacket. “Definitely.”

“Let me know when you land.”And get a cold dose of reality.

He finally rested his elbows on his knees and held his head. “Okay, okay. It’s cool. It’s all cool.”

Rand didn’t believe it for a second. He let out a long slow breath. So this was what his last night stateside was going to be. But what had he thought? Too young to hang out at a bar with friends, no girlfriend to cling to, nothing but his one damned strung-out buddy who had talked nonsense all night. He kicked at a tuft of grass and wondered if he’d ever be back here again. His whole world was about to change. He didn’t know if he’d ever see his old man, or Chase or . . . or Harper. He’d thought about calling her, saying goodbye, but it would have been awkward. Stupid. She was Chase’s girlfriend, whatever that meant.

He stood. Time to get going.

“Just tell me you’ll take care of her,” Chase said, breaking into his thoughts. “Take care of Harper.”

This again. Chase wasn’t going to give up. “Shit, yeah. I swear,” Rand said, just to shut him up. So that he wouldn’t have to deal with his own conflicted thoughts. “But I’m shipping out. I won’t be around.”

“You’ll be back.”

“And if I’m not? I’m going to war, man! Remember? I might not come back.” For the first time aloud, Rand voiced his own fears, and the night seemed suddenly colder.

“You will.” Chase wasn’t going to be denied. For the moment Chase was satisfied, but there had been something restless and off about him tonight, and Rand guessed it had less to do with the drugs and more with his off-the-wall mental state.

“I gotta go,” Rand finally said and found his cap near the back tire of Chase’s car. “You okay?”

Chase snorted. “Yeah. I’ll be fine.”

“You sure?”

“Who knows? Not your problem.” Chase dug into his pocket for his pack of Camels. “But you—you keep your ass down.”

“I will.”

“Good. Countin’ on it.” He shook out a cigarette and lit up. “Be safe, brother.”

Rand left Chase to contemplate the stars, universe, or his own damned fate and headed back to his Jeep. Disturbed, he got behind the wheel and jabbed his key into the ignition. The car was cold, the temperature having plunged.

He turned on the heater, backed up, then hit the gas, tires spinning in the gravel before the Jeep took off. His headlights cut through the night, illuminating the potholes and weeds and bouncing off the thick gnarled trunks of the surrounding trees. He fiddled with the radio until he heard Mick Jagger singing “Ruby Tuesday” over the crackle of static. But his thoughts were swirling with Chase and Harper. Shit, he had to get her out of his mind.

Except that he’d promised Chase he’d take care of her.

Oh sure.

How the hell was he supposed to do that? As if she would even let him.

As he shoved the gearshift into third, he caught the reflection of a deer’s eyes at the side of the road.

“No!” He stood on the brakes.

The Willys fishtailed.

“Don’t!” he yelled. As if the damned deer could understand him. “No!”

The blacktail leapt in front of the Jeep.

Rand cranked on the wheel and braced himself for the impact. The Jeep shuddered to a stop.

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