Deep River Promise Jackie Ashenden (best life changing books .txt) 📖

bad idea, it was probably also a very good idea too, Damon went upstairs to change the clothes he’d got muddy hunting with Harry and to have a quick shower, planning to come back down to the bar. Because why not? It was his last night here after all, so he might as well make it a night to remember.

What about Astrid? And Connor?

He’d go see them tomorrow, say his goodbyes. Keep it friendly and light. They both deserved better than that, but friendly and light was all he had. Better they found that out now rather than later.

Regret cut at him, sharp-edged and painful, the way all his emotions seemed to be these days. But it wasn’t anything to be concerned about. That phantom limb pain from his burned-out heart would go away soon enough. Once he left Deep River, probably. As if he needed another reason not to stay.

He stepped into the room, then stopped dead.

A slim, blond woman in a white T-shirt and jeans was sitting on his bed.

Astrid.

Her steady gray gaze met his and a rush of heat went through him, intense and unstoppable, making his heart race and his breath catch.

Goddammit. What the hell was she doing here?

Slowly, trying to get himself under control, he shut the door behind him.

“What’s up?” The question came out a lot rougher and more demanding than he meant it to, but he didn’t apologize. “You okay?”

“Not really.” The setting sun shining through the windows lit in her hair, turning it into a blaze of gold. “I haven’t been very good to you the past couple of days, have I?”

His heart was beating way too fast, and he had to thrust his hands in his pockets to stop them from reaching for her. Insanity. He’d made his decision not to touch her again and he wasn’t going to change his mind.

“What makes you say that?”

“Because I’ve been quite selfish.” Her hands rested on her thighs, her posture a little stiff. But her gaze was very steady. “Ever since you got here, you’ve put yourself out for me and Connor. You talked him through some crappy stuff, and then you did the same for me. You helped us. And I realize I haven’t really given you anything back. So that’s why I’m here. To give you whatever you need.”

He smiled, conscious all of a sudden of how fake that smile was. Yet he couldn’t control it; his mouth curled at the edges whether he wanted it to or not. “I told you last night. This isn’t a quid pro quo. I mean, I appreciate the offer, but you don’t have to give me anything.”

“I know I don’t. But I want to.”

Inexplicable tension crawled through him, that goddamn smile starting to feel faker and faker. “I don’t need it.” He tried to keep his voice gentle. “Except maybe one of April’s coffees.”

Astrid didn’t smile. Her gaze was very, very sharp. Like an X-ray, seeing through his skin and the fake smile that he plastered over everything, right down to the cracks in his bones.

“How sick is your mom, Damon?” she asked quietly.

He didn’t know why he told her. Maybe it was because of Harry’s whisky and he was just a little drunk. Or maybe he didn’t want her looking at him like that, as if she could see the emptiness behind his smile.

“She has early onset dementia.” He kept the words stripped of any emotion. “And last week she nearly burned her house down when she left a pot on the stove and forgot about it.”

Deep sympathy glowed in her eyes. “Oh, Damon. I’m so sorry.”

He wanted to turn away from her expression, but that would be to admit that her sympathy cut like a knife and he didn’t want to admit that. He wasn’t supposed to feel this pain anymore.

“It’s fine,” he said automatically. “It is what it is.”

“But what does that mean for you?”

He made himself move, over to the nightstand near the bed, where the whisky bottle was. A glass sat beside it, so he poured himself a measure, because why not?

“It means that someone will have to live with her and make sure she’s not going to accidentally kill herself. And since she doesn’t have anyone else, that someone is me.”

“So…you’re leaving the life you have in Alaska to take care of her?”

“Yes.” He lifted the glass and took a sip, the liquid burning down his throat. It probably wasn’t a good idea to have more, but he didn’t feel like behaving himself right now. “It’s not a drama. Don’t get me wrong. I like flying planes and working with the guys. But I’m not married to it. Mom sacrificed a lot for me, so it’s the least I can do.”

A crease appeared between Astrid’s fair brows. “What about live-in care? Or assisted living?”

“She doesn’t want that. She barely acknowledges the fact that she’s sick as it is. And I don’t want to force her. She’s had a tough life and it seems wrong to stick her in a home like an afterthought.” He swirled the whisky in the glass, looking down at it, since somehow that was easier than looking at Astrid. “I have some money set aside for private care when it happens, but I want to look after her as much as I can myself.”

It was only fair.

Besides, it wasn’t as if the life he had in Juneau was anything deep and meaningful. It was spent flying planes, having casual affairs, and drinking with the guys. There was nothing too intense, nothing too passionate. But that’s what he wanted, a surface life, and he’d seen no reason to change his mind.

Not even for Astrid and Connor?

Why would they make a difference? When he’d only known them a handful of days? His promise had kept him here, nothing more. And if he’d had a few pangs from that long-dead heart of his, it was only phantom pain.

Hell, even if things had been different, he couldn’t stay