Deep River Promise Read online

  The almost imperceptible trail led to a gravelly beach scattered with rocks. Connor scrambled over them like a mountain goat before disappearing around a particularly huge boulder.

  Damon went after him, coming around the side of the boulder to find that the boy was gone. He had a moment of puzzlement and then he saw that the boulder had been hollowed out, the inside just big enough for a boy and maybe a companion.

  Connor sat on the dry, sandy floor, pulling twigs from a stash tucked up at the back of the tiny cave and carefully piling them into a circle of fire-blackened rocks. A pile of dry driftwood sat next to the circle.

  “This is something else.” Damon looked around in approval as he sat down. “You’ve got a real man cave.”

  Connor reached into his pocket and pulled out a lighter, then hunched over the fire. “I found it a year or so ago. No one else knows about it.”

  Damon didn’t say that probably lots of people knew about it; you didn’t have something this cool within a couple of minutes of the town center and not have people know about it.

  “I like it. It’s the perfect hideout.”

  As Connor lit the fire, Damon took the tops off the beer bottles, then leaned over and put one in the sand beside Connor.

  “Okay,” he said comfortably. “Let’s hear it. Why don’t you trust Silas and Zeke to do what’s right by the town?”

  “Because Silas only came back a couple of weeks ago. I know he was born here, but he hasn’t been around for years, so what would he know? And I don’t know anything about Zeke.” Connor’s jaw was tight as he picked up more driftwood, slowly feeding it to the fire. “How am I supposed to trust either of them when I don’t know them?”

  Damon could see his point. As far as Connor was concerned, Silas and Zeke were complete strangers who didn’t live in the town and who didn’t understand its ways. Hell, if he’d been Connor, maybe he wouldn’t trust them either.

  The difficulty was that Silas and Zeke were totally trustworthy men—he’d trusted them with his life and vice versa—and Connor didn’t need to be worried. And the fact that he was was the issue.

  What had happened in this boy’s life that he’d somehow taken on the responsibility for the whole town? That he didn’t trust two men who were totally trustworthy? Sure, Connor hadn’t met Zeke, but surely Silas was okay?

  “Do you need to know them?” Damon asked, keeping his voice neutral.

  Connor reached for the beer, picked it up, and took a swallow. “Yeah, of course. You never know what some people are really like. And then when you find out, it’s too late.”

  “Too late?”

  Connor shook his head, looking at the fire, and didn’t answer.

  Damon remained silent, watching him.

  This boy was afraid, Damon would have laid money on it. But where that fear came from, he didn’t know. One thing he was sure of though was that he needed to find out. Because how could he help otherwise? How could he make good on his promise to Cal?

  Is it just about the promise to Cal?

  Well, of course it was. What else could it be? He cared about the kid but only as much as he’d care about anyone who was vulnerable and who needed his help. This wasn’t personal. He couldn’t afford for it to be personal for both his sake and the kid’s.

  “Connor,” he said carefully, “I don’t want to pry and I’m certainly not going to make you talk about things you don’t want to, but…I have to ask: What happened to you and your mother before you got to Deep River?”

  Connor looked away, an oddly devastated look flashing over his face.

  A ripple of concern went through Damon. He’d suspected it was bad, and it looked like it was.

  “I want to help you,” he said quietly. “You and your mom have got some big stuff going on right now, and I get the feeling it’s hard to talk to her. You don’t want to worry her, right?”

  Connor looked down at the fire and picked up some more wood, beginning to feed in some more twigs. “Yeah,” he said slowly. “She shouldn’t have to worry about me on top of everything else.”

  “I get it. So why don’t you talk to me instead? I’m a neutral party and you don’t need to worry about worrying me.”

  The kid picked up the beer again, swigging at it. “You should have brought the whisky.”

  Damon stayed quiet. He’d said what he needed to. Now it was up to Connor if he wanted to talk.

  “We used to live with this guy called Aiden in Portland,” Connor said finally, putting down the beer and picking up a stick, poking at the fire with it. “He was a good guy. I liked him. He was nice to me.” The boy’s jaw hardened. “He told me he’d always wanted a family and that me and Mom could be his family. I’d always wanted a dad and I thought he could be my dad.” Connor jammed the stick into the flames. “He told me he wanted to adopt me and marry Mom so he’d be my dad for real, but Mom always said no and I didn’t know why. Then he started…saying little things about Mom. Like how she didn’t praise me enough or didn’t allow me to have fun. How if she was really a good mother, she’d let me have more time on the computer or buy me toys or talk to me more. And that’s when I started to realize that he…” Connor jammed the stick into the coals, sparks flying. “He wasn’t a good guy after all. He was an asshole. And he hurt Mom.”

  Damon took a swig of his beer, hoping that the cool liquid would quench the slow-building fury that gathered hot and heavy in his gut. Righteous anger at an abusive guy was allowed, but this felt sharper somehow, deeper. This felt more personal than it had any right to be.

  Some asshole had betrayed Connor and hurt Astrid, and now all he wanted was to go and find this bastard wherever he was and beat him to a pulp.

  Except obviously that was going to help no one, so he got a grip.

  “Did he hit her?” He kept the words stripped entirely of emotion, despite the anger that tangled and knotted inside him.

  Connor, clearly oblivious to Damon’s rage, shook his head. “No. I mean, I never saw him do it, and when I asked Mom, she told me he hadn’t.”

  “Was she saying that to protect you, do you think?”

  “I don’t know.” That devastated look flickered across his face again, and he turned away, his knuckles white on the stick. “I know she stayed with him because I liked him and she wanted me to have a dad.” His voice broke like a boy’s, squeaking a little. “If I hadn’t—”

  “No,” Damon interrupted flatly, furious that Connor was blaming himself. “It’s not your fault, you hear me?”

  Connor went still, that strong jaw of his tightening.

  “Connor,” Damon said. “Look at me.”

  Slowly, the kid turned his head, his blue eyes full of fury and pain.

  Damon held his gaze, because if there was one thing the boy needed to know, it was this. “It’s not your fault. You know whose fault it is? It’s his. It’s Aiden’s. Not yours, not your mom’s. I’ve seen a lot of guys like him, think the world owes them a living. Think that people are their property. That they don’t have to answer to anyone. But they’re wrong. And they’re assholes.”

  Connor bristled. “You don’t understand. I liked him. He was a nice guy to me. If I’d—”

  “Why are you trying to take the blame? When he was the one who broke your trust?”

  The kid tore his gaze away, staring down at the fire again. Every line of him was tense and Damon felt that urge again to lay a hand on the boy’s shoulder, tell him it was okay.

  His fingers gripped the cool glass of his bottle instead, and he put every bit of certainty he could into his voice. “You’re a good kid. And questioning yourself even a little bit makes you better than most. You’re thinking of your mom and you want to do the right thing. You want to take responsibility. I admire that. I respect it. Some adults can’t do that, let alone a fifteen-year-old.”

  Connor dug at th
e fire. He didn’t look at Damon, but something in his posture eased. He was uncomfortable with the conversation, but also, it was clear, he needed to hear what Damon was trying to tell him.

  When was the last time the boy had had some male praise? Just a guy telling him that he was doing a good job and that he’d earned some respect? It wasn’t that praise from his mom wasn’t important, but Connor was a boy, and he needed some male attention too.

  Damon wasn’t exactly the best man to get it from and he knew it, but he’d rather punch himself in the face than betray the trust of a child the way Aiden had. And he’d certainly never hurt a woman.

  “But the fact is you are a fifteen-year-old. And back when this stuff was happening with Aiden, you were a little kid. You can’t take responsibility for something that’s not yours to take. Aiden was an adult. He should have known better. So I’m sorry you had to go through that, but there was nothing you could have done, understand?”

  Connor stared moodily at the fire, sipping on the beer, but at last he nodded.

  “Good. And as far as school’s concerned, you need to listen to your mother. It doesn’t matter that the year is nearly done. You still need to go.”

  “I knew you’d take her side.” He sounded aggrieved.

  “Yeah, well, sadly for you, I am also an adult and I know that staying in school is the best option for you long term. Can’t protect a town without a decent education.”

  Connor scowled, clearly frustrated. “But I—”

  “But I’ll make you a deal,” Damon interrupted, an idea forming in his head. “If you go to school, I’ll keep you in the loop about the decisions and discussion we’ll be having about the town. And if you have any suggestions, I’ll bring them to the relevant people.”

  Connor’s blue gaze narrowed, suspicious.

  But Damon understood where he was coming from now and it made sense; the poor kid had trusted once and it had blown up in his face. How could he ever do so again?

  The same will be true for Astrid…

  The wary look in her eyes, the veneer of cool, the bristly energy that gripped her that she didn’t do anything with, as if she was holding all her emotions inside…

  Yes, it would be true for her too.

  “You can trust me, Connor,” Damon said with quiet authority. “I’m not Aiden. I won’t betray your trust. When I say I’ll do something, I’ll do it.”

  Something flickered in the boy’s eyes, that longing again. Connor wanted to trust him. He wanted to trust him desperately.

  “I’ll stay another couple of days,” Damon went on, even though he knew he shouldn’t. “I won’t leave just yet. You can keep going to school, and I’ll make sure Silas and Zeke do things right, tell you everything that goes on. And I’ll take any concerns you have to them. I can’t guarantee they’ll do anything about them, but I’ll make sure they listen. Okay?”

  Connor stared at him, expressions rippling over his face, and Damon’s chest tightened. He wanted Connor to trust him, he realized. Wanted it very much.

  Careful…

  Oh yeah, he knew. He couldn’t let himself get involved. He only had so much to give and no more. But surely this would be okay. Another couple of days to ease the kid’s mind about all the oil stuff wasn’t too much to ask. Rachel wouldn’t mind keeping her eye on his mom just a little longer. And his mom would be okay with it, surely.

  The silence sat there, deepening around them.

  Then Connor said abruptly, “Okay. It’s a deal.”

  And apparently it was as simple as that.

  The tight thing in Damon’s chest eased, a tension leaving him he hadn’t realized was there. He didn’t want to admit to being relieved, but he was.

  Lifting his beer in Connor’s direction, he waited for Connor to lift his and then they clinked bottles in acknowledgment.

  “So,” he said after they’d both had a swig to seal the deal, “do you want me to tell your mother the good news?”

  Connor dug around in the fire again. “You can. She’ll probably believe you more.”

  Damon was okay with that. Very okay with that.

  “Good.” He took another sip of his beer. “Right. Do you want me to tell you some stories about your dad?”

  Connor’s eyes lit up. “Yeah, I do.”

  Chapter 11

  Astrid went home after Damon had taken Connor away for whatever man-to-man chat they were going to have, anger still fizzing inside her. That her anger wasn’t wholly to do with Connor and his ridiculous insistence on skipping school didn’t help.

  She was aware enough to realize that a large part of it was due to spending the entire day trying not to think about Damon and what had happened in the library, and failing. Miserably.

  She’d busied herself in her office, going over the ideas for tourist ventures that people had brought to her. She supposed she should be doing this with Damon, but there was no way in hell she was going to find him and talk to him now about it. Distance was better. She didn’t want to think about those moments in the library when he had touched her, kissed her, been inside her…

  Unfortunately, it had been next to impossible not to think about those moments. About him. About his smile and the light in his blue eyes when he’d looked at her. How he’d made her feel wanted and precious and cared for…

  Astrid growled, mentally shoving away those memories as she flung open her front door. She’d had vague plans of a soak in the tub with a glass of wine, or watching a couple of DVDs she’d borrowed from the collection in the market—streaming was almost impossible without a decent internet connection—but she didn’t feel like that now.

  She ended up pacing around her living room, pausing every now and then to stare out the window at the little town below and the river rushing endlessly toward the ocean, trying to redirect her thoughts.

  Connor coming to her and announcing his “decision” to skip school for the rest of the year had really been the last straw. And it hadn’t helped that he didn’t want to talk about Cal or about why she hadn’t told him that Cal was his father. He’d just insisted that the town was his responsibility and that he couldn’t trust Silas and Zeke, especially since Damon was leaving.

  It was clear that Connor now viewed Damon as someone less suspicious than the other two, and she didn’t know how she felt about that. Damon wasn’t staying and she didn’t want Connor putting his trust in him or expectations on him for exactly that reason.

  Her son’s faith in men had already been broken by Aiden and she didn’t think she could bear it if Damon broke it as well. She hadn’t wanted him to take Connor away and talk to him, be nice to him, earn the boy’s trust, only to have him go the next day. It just wouldn’t be fair.

  Eventually, sick of her own introspection, she went into the little kitchen she’d painted a clean, restful white and poured herself a glass of wine, got the tourism folder, and sat down at the battered wooden kitchen table, trying to redirect her attention to Gwen’s eco-resort idea.

  She was just finishing up her wine and running some numbers through her calculator when she heard the front door open then close, the sound of male voices echoing down the hallway. Her son’s lighter tone and then a deeper, richer one.

  Connor was home. And he’d brought Damon with him.

  Astrid’s heart gave a little kick in her chest, then started to beat faster, her body tightening in anticipation. Stupid. She wasn’t going there again with Damon. That had been a one-off, so why she was feeling all dry-mouthed and excited she had no idea.

  For a second she sat there, unable to decide whether to go and meet them or wait for them to come to her, her brain flailing around stupidly. Then, pulling herself together because she was thirty-two, not sixteen, she shoved her chair back, got up, and went down the hallway to meet them.

  They were standing just inside the front door, Connor making
sweeping gestures toward various rooms, clearly giving Damon a tour of the house, while Damon stood next to him nodding.

  The pair of them looked at her as she approached and almost instantly the same expression crossed their faces, the slightly guilty one all little boys get when they know they’ve done something wrong.

  She might have laughed if her emotions hadn’t been all over the place.

  “Hey, Mom.” Connor glanced at Damon meaningfully. “And that’s my cue to leave.”

  Damon lifted both brows. “Sure you don’t want to stay?”

  “Uh, no.” Connor grinned at him. “Thanks for the beer.”

  Astrid stiffened. “Beer? What beer?”

  “Gee thanks, kid,” Damon said.

  “No problem.” Connor, still grinning, sidled past her to his room and disappeared inside it, closing the door very firmly behind him.

  Silence fell.

  Immediately, her tiny hallway felt too narrow, its ceiling way too low. Damon was so tall, thoroughly invading her little space in a way that made her even more aware of him than she already was. And his scent wrapped around her, the warm spice she associated with him, making her feel hungry—and not for food.

  He was still in that soft, black shirt and she knew what it felt like now. She knew what he felt like. His skin like velvet, the muscles beneath it steel. And all that male heat…

  He was so sexy he ought to be illegal. What would he do if she pushed him against the wall and kissed his gorgeous mouth?

  He would do nothing, because you’re not going to do it.

  No, she wouldn’t. She’d had her moment, and there wouldn’t be another one.

  “You gave my son a beer?” She folded her arms, trying to stay cool.

  Damon gave her that charming little-boy grin. “It was only one.”

  “He’s underage.”

  “That’s what he said.”

  “But did he drink it?”

  “He’s fifteen and a boy. What do you think?”

  Astrid opened her mouth.