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it was a good thing that the rain had eased up, because the last thing Damon needed was to run into difficulties flying out.

“Need a hand tying up?” Damon called back to Kevin, who’d come out of the wheelhouse.

Kevin nodded.

But Connor was already moving, going over to where the rope was coiled neatly on the deck, picking it up, and getting himself ready to leap onto the dock.

Damon watched him. A good kid, Astrid had said, and Damon could see that. The boy’s protectiveness suggested a care for his mother and for his town that went deep. Kevin’s reaction to him too, playing along with Connor’s earnestness without making fun of him, spoke of affection and tolerance.

And really, for all Connor’s belligerence, who couldn’t warm to a boy looking out for his town? Especially a boy looking out for his mom. Yeah, Damon knew all about that.

Pity he couldn’t ask the kid about Cal, cut through all the bullshit, but he’d promised Astrid he wouldn’t and he was a man who kept his promises.

Except the one you made to Cal.

Technically, he hadn’t promised. Technically, he was just following an instruction.

Technically, you’re being a dick about not wanting to get involved.

Damon didn’t like that thought one bit, so he watched Connor instead as the boy grabbed the rope, then leapt with all the agility of a mountain goat onto the dock and tied it around one of the metal moorings with casual competence. It looked like he’d done it a thousand times before.

A kid whose father had been killed and who may not even know, if what Astrid had said was true. And there was no reason to doubt her. She was the kid’s mother after all.

Yet Damon had a sneaking suspicion that she was wrong… Perhaps the boy did know.

Connor stood on the dock, staring at Damon, one blond eyebrow raised in disdainful teenage inquiry.

Damon sighed, then went over to Kevin, making some attempt to pay the guy. But Kevin simply shook his head, so Damon put his money away, said goodbye, then got off the boat and onto the dock.

He strode along it in the direction of the tiny airstrip and the small hangar that currently housed Wild Alaska’s two Cessnas.

Connor clattered along behind him, catching up.

“Just so you know,” Damon commented without turning, “I’m going to be getting out of here in pretty much the next ten minutes, so your window is limited.”

“What responsibilities do you have?” Connor asked.

Ah, so he had been listening, hadn’t he?

Damon quickly debated how much of the truth to give him. Not all of it, but he could give him something. “I have to go home to take care of my mom. She’s sick.”

“Oh,” Connor said. “That’s, uh… I’m sorry.”

“You can’t tell anyone, though, okay? She doesn’t like anyone to know she’s ill.”

A secret for a secret might help, though there were no guarantees. Wouldn’t hurt for Connor to know that he felt the same way about his mother as Connor felt about Astrid anyway.

“Yeah, okay.” Connor sounded less belligerent and a bit more subdued. “I mean, I promise.”

They went up the wooden stairs from the dock and then along the gravel path that led to the airstrip. Connor didn’t say anything, though a brief glance at him told Damon that there must have been a lot going on inside his head, because he was frowning ferociously.

There wasn’t much time left. The ball was in the kid’s court and he was going to have to make a play now if he wanted something from Damon.

A tricky moment. Damon could have put pressure on him, but he sensed that would be the wrong approach. Connor had to make his own mind up.

“You were in the army, weren’t you?” Connor asked. “With Silas?”

“That’s right.”

“And you live in LA.”

“More or less. I’ve been in Juneau the last few months.”

“So are you going straight back to LA?”

“Have to head to Juneau to drop the plane off first.”

They were approaching the hangar now, the doors standing open. The little Cessna he’d flown from Juneau was waiting for him, the Wild Alaska Aviation logo emblazoned on the side.

He was going to miss flying when he was back in LA, that was for sure. He’d miss the wide-open blue of the Alaskan skies, its unforgiving mountains, and the deep green of the bush too. Even though he was a city boy, he couldn’t deny that the wilderness up here had a magic all its own—a magic he hadn’t expected when he’d first arrived in Juneau with Silas, Caleb, and Zeke.

A magic he suspected he wouldn’t find anywhere else and certainly not in LA.

He walked into the hangar, approaching the plane, then stopped and looked at Connor. “Time’s nearly up, kid.”

Connor stared at him, chewing on his bottom lip, a whole host of emotions flickering in his blue eyes.

Come on, Damon said silently. You want to ask me. I know you do.

The boy said nothing.

Damon sighed. If Connor didn’t want to ask him anything, then he didn’t want to ask. Couldn’t force him.

You could stay, give him some more time.

No. He couldn’t. Time was the one thing he didn’t have.

Damon looked away, doing a visual check of the Cessna in preparation for flight.

Then Connor said, “You knew my dad, didn’t you?”

* * *

Astrid sat on one of the barstools in the Moose, leaning her elbow on the bar, a cup of coffee slowly cooling beside her.

Silas stood next to her, having pulled her into the Moose after Damon had left, to talk her through Kevin Anderson’s fishing charter plan, but she wasn’t paying attention. She was too busy thinking about Damon and his treatment of her son.

Connor definitely had a bee in his bonnet about Damon—for whatever reason; Astrid had no idea—and he’d been incredibly rude. Acting as though Damon was going to pull out a knife or something and challenging him head-on.

Come on, you know.

Guilt settled in her stomach, heavy as lead. Yeah, okay. Maybe she did.

It had been five

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