When Logan was young, he would have loved having a dad who would take him zip-lining, a dad who knew the difference between fun and frivolity, a dad who encouraged rather than demanded.

He landed with an exaggerated flourish on the opposite platform. Paige Albertson, cocounselor of the group, pointed at Charlie. “Aren’t you forgetting something?”

“Oh yeah, my only son. Oops.”

“Why is he staying over there?” asked Rufus, one of the kids.

“I bet he’s scared,” said another kid.

Logan ignored them. On the opposite platform, Charlie looked very small and alone. Vulnerable.

“Everything all right?” Paige put her hand on Logan’s arm.

Paige had a crush on him. Logan knew this. He even wished he felt the same way, because she was great. She was a kindergarten teacher during the school year and a Camp Kioga volunteer during the summer. She had the all-American cheerleader looks, the bubbly, uncomplicated personality that most guys couldn’t resist. She was exactly the kind of girl his parents would want for him—pretty, stable, from a good family.

Could be that was the reason he wasn’t feeling it for her.

“He’s balking,” said Logan. “And he feels really bad about it. I thought he’d love zip-lining.”

“It’s not for everybody,” Paige pointed out. “And remember, if he doesn’t go for it, the world won’t come to an end.”

“Good point.” Logan saluted her and jumped off, crossing back to the platform on the other side, where Charlie waited. The zipping sound of the pulley and cable sang in his ears. Damn, this never got old.

“Just like Spider-Man,” he said as he came in for a landing. “I swear, it’s the coolest thing ever.”

Charlie shuffled across the wooden planks of the platform. Logan reached for the clips to attach him to the pulley. “That’s gonna be one small step for Charlie,” he intoned, “one giant leap for—”

“Dad, hang on a second,” Charlie said, shrinking back. “I changed my mind again.”

Logan studied his son’s posture: the hunched shoulders, the knees that were literally shaking. “Seriously?”

“Unhook me.” Beneath the helmet, Charlie’s face was pale, his green eyes haunted and wide.

“It’s okay to change your mind,” Logan said, “but I don’t want you to have any regrets. Remember, we talked about regrets.”

“When you have a chance to do something and then you don’t do it and later on you wish you had,” Charlie muttered.

Which pretty much summed up Logan’s assessment of his marriage. “Yep,” he said. “At the farewell dinner tonight, are you going to wish you’d done the zip line?”