Connor had liked her ex, Aiden, very much. He’d been young, too young to know what the barbed comments and put-downs Aiden had directed at Astrid meant. All he’d known was that Aiden was nice to him, had given him male attention, and since he’d been starved for that attention, he’d lapped it up.
Astrid had tried to hide Aiden’s emotional manipulation and abuse from her son, wanting to protect him since Aiden had shown Connor nothing but his good side. But eventually she’d had to leave. She’d been alone then, with no one to call on for help. Her parents had kicked her out when they’d found out she was pregnant, so she couldn’t even go home.
There had been only one person she could call: Cal.
He’d told her to come to Deep River, that she could find a place for herself here, and so she had. The town had felt like a haven, a sanctuary. It represented safety and stability, and she felt more at home here than she had anywhere else.
But Connor had been gutted at leaving Aiden. And then when he’d found out that Aiden hadn’t been the heroic father figure he’d been searching for, he’d felt terribly, terribly guilty.
He didn’t trust men now, especially men who were nice to him, which Astrid could relate to. But his protectiveness over her was…problematic.
And part of her had been expecting Damon to be as manipulative as Aiden had been in response to Connor’s aggression, building it up while at the same time tearing strips off her for Connor’s rudeness, that she should have taught him better.
Yet Damon had been nothing like that. He hadn’t been manipulative and he hadn’t criticized her. He’d been calm in the face of Connor’s rudeness. Patient too, taking him seriously, which she knew for a fact Connor desperately wanted, no matter how hard he tried to hide it.
Her poor boy, who didn’t even know he’d lost his father…
The guilt settled more heavily in her, weighing her down.
“Hey.” Silas’s deep, rough voice rumbled in her ear. “Are you listening?”
Astrid started, then pulled her thoughts away from her son. “Yes,” she said, hoping she sounded as cool as she normally did. “Of course I’m listening.”
Silas, big and broad and muscular, leaned one hip against the bar and folded his arms, green eyes sharp and assessing. “You want to do this later?”
“No.” She reached for her lukewarm coffee. “Why would I want that?”
“Heard you and your boy arguing outside just as Damon left. Things okay?”
Silas was a good guy, if a little too “white knight” for her liking, but she didn’t know him well enough to talk with him about her worries for her son. Besides, she’d always preferred to deal with her own problems herself. It was easier that way.
So all she said was “Perfect.” And took a sip of her coffee, forgetting it was tepid. Ugh. She put the cup down again. “Now, back to Kev’s plan—”
“Because I’ve seen him around quite a bit.”
What was it with men who couldn’t take a hint?
“Yes, I know.” Astrid gave him a steady look. “He had a little issue with Damon and don’t ask me why because I don’t know. But now Damon’s gone, it won’t be a problem, I’m sure.”
Silas said nothing, the expression on his handsome face concerned, which was not encouraging. “Sonny told me that he’d seen Con up at Phil’s place helping out with building fences when he should have been in school. And Harry mentioned that the kid had approached him to tell him that he could help if Harry needed anyone to test out his survival skills workshop.” Silas paused, then added, “Also when he should have been in school.”
There was a sinking sensation in Astrid’s gut. She’d known about Phil. Not about Harry.
“I see,” she said. “And Harry didn’t think to come and talk to me about it?”
“I suspect he thinks it’s not such a big deal.” Silas’s mouth quirked. “You know Harry.”
Astrid did know Harry. He was a survivalist, a homesteader, and a prepper. He had a good heart, but he was also slightly paranoid and had a healthy disregard for authority of any kind. Of course he wouldn’t think skipping school was a big deal. In fact, he might even encourage it.
She gritted her teeth. She’d tried to talk to Connor about where this sudden need to help people had come from, because although he’d always been the caring type, he hadn’t ever skipped school because of it before, but he wouldn’t tell her.
In fact, for the past month, he hadn’t told her much of anything at all. It was unlike him.
“Well, if you hear of Connor doing any of those things again, can you let me know?” She tried to sound calm, because she didn’t like the feeling that things were slipping out of control, especially things like her son. “I’ll have to have a talk with him.”
“Hey, at least he’s not stealing beer from Mal’s.”
Astrid forced a smile at Silas’s attempt at humor that she hoped was convincing. “No, true.”
Apparently it didn’t convince Silas.
“You know, we look after each other in this town, Astrid,” he said, his sharp gaze unwavering. “And everyone needs help at some point in their lives. Even the mayor. There’s no shame in asking for it.”
Oh, Astrid knew that very well. It was just…complicated. Especially when it involved secrets. Secrets that had gotten way too big already and that the longer she stayed quiet about, the bigger and more unwieldy they got. And who knew what would happen if they got out? If everyone found out that Caleb West’s son had been here all this time and Astrid hadn’t told them? People would not be impressed. At all. Perhaps they’d make it unpleasant, and she’d end up having to leave…
No. No way.
“Thank you, Silas. I’ll keep that in mind.” She grabbed the paper with Kevin’s fishing charter idea on it and slipped off the barstool. “I’ll go over this in the afternoon. I’ve got to see some growers this morning, and I was hoping to get to the library before lunchtime.”
“Okay, well, don’t say I didn’t offer.” Silas pushed himself away from the bar. “We’re going to have to decide which ideas are the most workable and bring them to a town meeting, you know that, right?”
Of course she knew that. It was how everything in Deep River was decided. A town meeting where town business was discussed, and if a decision needed to be made, it was put to a town ballot.
Everyone had a say and everyone had a voice, and it had been that way for nearly a century.
“Yes, obviously. We can sort through this stuff tomorrow if you like and make a decision about which ideas to bring to a meeting the day after.”
He shook his head. “No. Need to run them by Damon and Zeke first.”
“Seriously?” Astrid frowned. “Damon? Who just left?”
Silas sighed. “Yeah, I tried to make him stay. He’s good with money and we could use someone with financial skills to help with business plans. But he’s got other things to do. He said he’d give me a call about it once he was back in LA.”
It didn’t surprise her that Damon had left and so quickly. He hadn’t struck her as the type of man who hung around a tiny town like Deep River.
“What about your other friend? Zeke?”
Silas’s expression turned cagey. “Yeah, he’s a little more difficult to get ahold of.”
“Why? He owns part of your aviation company, yes?”
“Yeah.”
“So he’s in Juneau, right?”
“Not at present.”
Astrid gave Silas an irritated look. “You’re being awfully mysterious about this. If we can’t get hold of him, then we can’t get a decision.”
“I know that.” He turned toward the back of the bar. “Don’t worry about it. It’s my problem. I’ll handle it.”
“Or we could just not ask him,” Astrid muttered, but not loud enough for Silas to hear. Mainly because it would
n’t make any difference. Silas Quinn might have carefully navigated the difficult business of the oil, not to mention been successful in spearheading the current effort to get into tourism to make up for the lack of oil dollars, but he was also, like most men of her acquaintance, a stubborn ass.
She was just turning toward the exit herself when the Moose’s doors were pushed open and a familiar tall, muscular figure strode in.
Apparently, Damon hadn’t flown off to LA like he’d told everyone he was going to.
Astrid stopped dead, a strange fluttering starting in the pit of her stomach. It felt a little like excitement, which didn’t make any sense, so she ignored it. “Weren’t you supposed to be leaving?” she said, trying for her usual cool tone.
“Yeah,” Silas added from behind her. “Didn’t you have pressing business you absolutely couldn’t wait another day to handle back in LA?”
Damon’s mouth curved in a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Strangely enough, that business wasn’t as pressing as I thought.”
“Really?” Silas came up to stand next to Astrid, sounding deeply suspicious. “What brought this on, then?”
She didn’t care why Damon was staying. She didn’t care that he’d apparently changed his mind. She had things to do and she should leave.
Yet she didn’t.
Then Damon’s gaze unexpectedly settled on her, making that flutter in the pit of her stomach flutter even harder.
She crushed it. Flat.
“I thought more about these tourism ideas you’ve got going on and I’ve decided I can spare a couple more days.” But Damon wasn’t looking at Silas as he said it; he was looking at her.
There was an expression in his sky-blue eyes, a glitter of something serious that made the fluttering sensation in her gut close into a fist, clenching tight.
Connor.
“Need to talk to you if you have a moment,” Damon said.
Astrid swallowed, her mouth dry. “Sure.”
Silas was frowning. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah.” Damon gave his friend an easy grin. “Would Hope mind if I stayed on another few days?”
Silas didn’t reply immediately, glancing first at Astrid and then back at Damon, making Astrid’s gut clench even tighter.
Oh great, what was Silas thinking? It had better not be about her and Damon, wondering what was going on between them. Because there was no reason for them to talk together alone about anything.
“No,” Silas said, his gaze turning speculative. “I don’t think she’ll mind.”
Okay, she needed to take control of this and stat.
“I presume this is about the financial information you requested from me earlier?” she asked Damon coolly, making it up as she went along and hoping he’d take the hint.
“It is,” he replied, much to her relief. “I can come to your office if you’d like, or you can come upstairs while I drop my bag off.”
Better to get this over and done with, right? Like ripping off a Band-Aid, etc.
“Perhaps I’ll come upstairs.” She held out a hand toward the door. “After you.”
“Damon,” Silas began, giving Astrid a sidelong glance.
But Damon was already heading toward the exit. “You and I can talk later. Over a beer, okay?”
He didn’t wait for a response, disappearing through the door near the bar that led to the stairs.
Silas turned his attention on Astrid. “What’s going on?”
“Financial stuff,” she lied, already beginning to follow Damon since she really didn’t want to be left down here having to deal with Silas. “We’ll talk later too.”
Damon’s room was one of the bigger ones, at the end of the upstairs hall, with its own bathroom and, of course, the balcony that looked out over the river.
It contained an old but sturdy wooden bed pushed up against the wall facing the french doors, an old dresser, a desk near one of the other windows, and a brown leather armchair that stood near the desk.
A clean, tidy room, but nothing fancy.
Astrid looked around, her brain automatically cataloguing what could possibly be improved on in order to attract more tourists here. The views over the river and the mountains beyond were spectacular, but there was definitely a shabby, worn air to the room.
Damon dumped his bag carelessly on the bed and then turned to face her, his arms crossed over his broad chest. He wasn’t smiling now, the lines of his face stark in their beauty.
He looked like a very serious angel.
“Better shut the door,” he said. “That is if you want some privacy.”
She did, so she shut it, turning back to him and getting straight to the point. “This is about Connor, isn’t it?”
Damon’s gaze was very direct. “He knows, Astrid.”
“What? What are you talking about?”
Damon hesitated a moment, and for a second, she thought she saw a hint of compassion in his gaze. “He knows who his father is.”
Chapter 5
Astrid went white as a sheet, her pretty eyes darkening. “No,” she said in a shocked voice. “He doesn’t know. He can’t.”
All the unflappable capability she’d been radiating this morning in her office had disappeared, and even that taut, bristling energy was gone.
For a moment, she looked as lost as her son.
Sympathy shifted inside him, though perhaps, given that she’d kept a vital piece of information from her very hurt and worried son, it shouldn’t have.
Then again, Astrid hadn’t given him the impression that she was a cruel or mean woman. Certainly in the past few days he’d been in Deep River, he’d heard nothing but good things about her. That she was a touch reserved maybe, but also that she was calm and cool and she got things done.
He suspected that there was more to her than that, though. He’d seen little flashes of dry humor, little sparks of temper too. That snow-queen cool was a front, he was sure of it, but what lay beneath it, he didn’t know.
What he did know was that if she’d kept something from Connor, then presumably it had been for a good reason.
Connor himself, when he’d told Damon that he knew Cal was his father, had shrugged it off. The kid had muttered something about how he wasn’t angry with Astrid for not telling him and that she was probably trying to protect him, though from what he didn’t say. Damon had the sense that he was trying to convince himself as much as he was trying to convince Damon.
Whatever, the kid’s confession had made it clear to Damon that he couldn’t leave Deep River quite yet.
Cal had wanted Damon to make sure Connor was okay, but it had soon become evident, as Damon had talked to him, that the kid wasn’t okay.
He hadn’t let slip much, and Damon hadn’t pushed him, but it was obvious that Connor was upset and angry and hurt, and was desperately trying to hide it.
Damon couldn’t go off and leave the kid like that—he just couldn’t. It wouldn’t be right. And most especially not when he’d made a promise to Cal.
Sure, it was going to mean involving himself in something far too complicated for his liking, not to mention dealing with messy things like emotions and whatnot, but perhaps that would be okay.
He could be a neutral party, the peacemaker, like he’d been in the army. It was easy to be laidback and calm when the ability to feel about anything in any depth had been burned right out of you.
So he’d called Rachel right there and then—mercifully, there was service at the airstrip—to let her know that he’d be a few more days, just enough to give him some time to deal with the Connor situation.
“He does know.” Damon kept his voice measured. “He’s been following me around because I’m a friend of Cal’s and he knew it.”
The lost expression on Astrid’s face lingered, then abruptly vanished, her mout
h hardening into a line, her jawline tight. “How?” she demanded. “How did he find out?”
“The same way I did, apparently. He got a letter after Cal died. Seemed Cal had written one before he was deployed and got the lawyer to hold on to it and send it in case of his death.”
Astrid shut her eyes and put a hand to her forehead, rubbing at it as if she had a headache. She looked even paler than she had in her office.
The thread of sympathy inside him pulled harder and he let it. He might not feel things deeply these days, but he wasn’t without compassion.
Going over to the small desk pushed up against the wall near the balcony, he pulled out the chair.
“Sit,” he ordered calmly.
Astrid opened her eyes, shooting him an irritated look.
He ignored it. “Come on, sit down before you fall down.”
She let out a breath and dropped her hands from her forehead. She looked like she wanted to argue, but then thought better of it, moving over to the chair he’d pulled out and sitting down instead.
“There.” She gave him a look that was every bit as challenging as her son’s. “Happy?”
“Ecstatic.” He folded his arms. “Want to tell me why you didn’t tell him about Caleb?”
“A lot of reasons.” She leaned back, resting her head against the back of the chair and closing her eyes again. “God, what a mess.”
“Want to share?”
“Not particularly.” She opened her eyes again. “Look, it’s nothing personal, Damon. You might have been a friend of Cal’s, but I don’t know you from a bar of soap, and it’s really none of your business.”
She wasn’t wrong. It wasn’t his business. And normally he wouldn’t have argued with her about it. In fact, if he’d had his way, he’d be flying the Cessna the hell back to Juneau right now.
But this was kind of important and he’d never been able to turn his back on someone who needed help, most especially not when that person was a kid.
“Sure,” he said mildly. “But sadly Caleb West made it my business. And I can’t ignore the last request of a good friend. Cal told me to take care of Connor, so that’s what I’m going to do.”
Deep River Promise Page 6