Deep River Promise, Jackie Ashenden [large ebook reader .TXT] 📗

“Okay then.” Damon dropped his bag on the floor, leaned back against the door, and began at the beginning. With his mother and Rebecca and Ella.

“Shit,” Silas said in the silence that fell afterward. “That’s…” He trailed off, his green eyes full of sympathy.

Damon waited for the awkward change of subject or for Silas to simply turn around and leave, because after all, who wanted to talk about the death of a child?

But Silas went to the desk, pulled open the bottom drawer, and took out the bottle of Harry’s whisky that was in it. Then he grabbed a couple of glasses that were also in the drawer, poured them both a dram, and held out the glass. “Here. I think you could do with this.”

A tension that Damon didn’t even realize was gripping him eased. He should have told Silas before, he really should have. It was about trust in the end and he did trust his friend, he really did.

Damon took it and lifted the glass, ready to drink.

Then Silas raised his own glass and looked his friend in the eye. He didn’t say a word, but then Silas was a man who didn’t waste them. And there were too few words that would encompass what Damon had just told him, and none of them were right.

“To absent friends,” Damon said, because it wasn’t only Ella who was gone, but Cal too.

Silas nodded and they both drank. Then Silas said, “Anytime you want to talk, you can.”

Okay, so he’d been an idiot not to tell Silas, not to trust him either, and he’d been a dick about it, no question. All of this would have been simpler if he’d just been straight from the beginning, but old patterns of behavior were tough to overcome.

“I appreciate that,” Damon said gruffly. “But as you can imagine, all of this has made it complicated when it comes to Astrid.”

“Yeah, okay,” Silas allowed, putting his glass down on the desk. “But how?”

“Because I’m not up for the kind of relationship she needs. Or any kind of relationship, in fact. Which means sticking around here will only make it difficult for her.”

Silas nodded slowly. “I get it. You’re trying to protect her.”

“Yes.” He stared back at his friend. “I don’t want to hurt her.”

“Well, sure,” Silas agreed. “But you know, sometimes when we think we’re protecting people, it turns out that the only ones we’re protecting are ourselves.”

Damon stiffened. “It’s not like that.”

He’s right.

No, that was bullshit. Silas was wrong. And Damon wasn’t protecting himself; he was protecting Astrid and Connor from hurt and disappointment, because they’d both been hurt and disappointed too many times already.

He couldn’t love them. He couldn’t love anyone. And it was better that he stayed away so they could both find someone who would.

Liar. She loves you and you’re dismissing it like it means nothing.

He shoved the thought away, bending to grab the strap of his duffel and hauling it up and over his shoulder.

“You have to think of her,” Silas said quietly. “Hurting her because you’re too scared to man up is never a good look.”

Okay, that was enough. He was done.

He straightened. “It’s not about fear. It’s about knowing you can’t give someone what they need and that they deserve better than that.”

Silas’s gaze turned assessing. “You’re in love with her, aren’t you?”

Icy shock slid through him, like he’d plunged headfirst into a pool of glacier meltwater, though he had no idea why. How could he be in love with her? It simply wasn’t possible for him.

“No.” He met Silas’s green gaze without flinching, because the guy was just flat-out wrong. “I’m not. I can’t. And that’s the reason I’m leaving.”

Silas only stared at him for a long moment, then he nodded. “Okay, have it your way. I take it you’ll drop the plane at the hangar in Juneau?”

“Yes. And I’ll call you when I get back to LA. We’ll sort out the ownership stuff then.”

Silas just nodded, and that was that. There wasn’t any more to be said.

Damon turned and went out, entering back into the crowded Moose, nodding at Hope as he passed by the bar and then flashing a smile at the various people who greeted him and waved. He didn’t stop, even though politeness dictated that he should. He just didn’t have the energy.

Outside, the twilight was starting to deepen into night, and despite the cool night air, there were a few people standing in groups on the boardwalk. He glanced around, trying to spot Astrid because he wanted to say goodbye properly to her and Connor at least.

A flash of movement by the Nowhere pole caught his eye, and he could see Connor leaning against it. The kid was staring fixedly at him, the expression on his face utterly cold, just like his mother’s.

Damon took a step in his direction, but Connor turned his back very deliberately and walked away.

The pain felt like claws. Damon had let him down, and he knew that. But it was for the best. Better a short, swift lesson now and then the kid could put it behind him. He needed a much better father figure than Damon would ever be.

Turning back to the groups of people, he took another scan around, but Astrid definitely wasn’t there.

Dammit, he didn’t want to leave without saying goodbye.

Cursing, he hauled his duffel higher and made a circuit of the town, trying to find her. He didn’t want to go up to her house, because he didn’t want to impinge on their space, especially given Connor’s level of pissed-offness.

Then he spotted her just on the point of going into her office.

“Hey,” he said quietly, moving toward her, then stopping.

She glanced at him and a ripple of some bright, painful emotion moved over her face. “Coming to say goodbye, then?”

“Yes. I have to go to Juneau tonight, drop the plane off.”

“Okay.” Her gaze roamed over his face, as if she was memorizing him. “I suppose you won’t