Deep River Promise (Alaska Homecoming #2) - Jackie Ashenden Page 0,61
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