“You remind me a lot of my brother, Dylan.”

“How’s that?”

“Always the big brother.”

“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to overstep.”

“You didn’t. I miss him. It’s been a long time since I’ve been big-brothered.”

“He died?”

Dan nodded. “Afghanistan. 2005.”

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.”

“Thanks, and thanks for the words of wisdom. I do appreciate them.”

“Any time you need a big brother, it’s one of the few things I’ve ever been truly good at.”

Crooking a brow at Mac, Dan said, “By whose estimation?”

“My own, of course.”

Despite the pain it caused his battered ribs, Dan laughed harder than he had in more than a week. “Thanks for the ride.”

“Come to Luke’s.”

“I’ll try.”

Frustrated by how long it took him to do even the simplest things, Dan eased himself out of the truck and shut the door, waving at Mac as he drove off. Dan walked slowly down the main pier, scanning the pond in search of Kara’s maroon launch, but didn’t see any sign of her.

He took the ramp to the launch dock and eased himself onto the bench, which was empty of passengers. The throbbing pain in his ribs and arm indicated his pain pills were wearing off. He’d learned to stay on top of the meds, even though he’d rather forego them. However, not taking them wasn’t an option. He’d never experienced pain quite like that of broken ribs.

Sitting alone, watching the action in the harbor, he had time to absorb what he’d learned that afternoon and to think about what Mac had said. Dan thought of his parents, who’d already lost one son tragically, and his two older sisters, who’d lost a brother. Dylan’s death had been horrible for all of them, and Dan was grateful that his family had been spared another sudden loss.

Yet it was difficult to separate his own gratitude from the profound sense of grief he felt over Steve’s death. He’d spent only a morning with Steve but had enjoyed his company, his sense of humor and his expertise with the boat. Steve had called himself the lucky one, the only member of his group who’d escaped the stomach bug.

Dan was pondering the deeper meaning of luck and fate when Kara’s launch came into view, zipping between boats as she made her way back to the floating dock where she picked up and dropped off passengers. She was almost there when she noticed him waiting for her.

Her expression was full of consternation and questions as she competently brought the launch to a smooth stop against the dock, looped lines over cleats, conversed with disembarking passengers and offered a hand when necessary. After the last passenger had gone up the ramp to the main pier, she got off the boat and came over to him.