Mara hadn’t been back to Pine Ridge since high school. Fifteen years, and the place still made her stomach knot. The trees were the same. The air carried that heavy lake smell, wet leaves, sap, algae. Even the gas station was still pushing the same shriveled hot dogs under glass. Julian drove with one hand on the wheel, the other on a gas station coffee. “You’re going to love it once we’re out on the water,” he said, smil...