Chasing Serenity (River Rain 1)

“I wasn’t close to my dad,” Duncan shared, taking Judge from his thoughts. “He wasn’t a good father. He wasn’t a good man. But he was very proud of me for doing that. I was sickened by it. So, obviously, I didn’t get why he was proud of me. He told me at the time, standing over me as I gutted that doe, that I was going to be known as Bowie from then on.”

Okay, now Judge was even more confused why he’d allow people to call him that.

“And I told Genny later that he was right. I was. I was Bowie and always would be Bowie. Because I didn’t want to go hunting. I didn’t want to shoot that doe. I did it so I didn’t have to take any shit from my father. I put her life ahead of my fears of dealing with my dad, who could be volatile, but he wasn’t violent. And I was going to be Bowie because I never wanted to forget the consequences of not standing up for my beliefs.”

“Jesus, fuck,” Rix whispered, his tone much different now.

Comprehension.

And respect.

“And I never did. I also never hunted again,” Duncan concluded. “It infuriated my father, and I paid that price. The price was hefty. But it was a price I’d learned I was willing to pay.”

Judge noted that Tom was now slumped in his chair, but not having folded into himself.

He’d settled in.

Comfortable.

At one with the idea that the man at his side was the man in Genny’s life.

Which was huge and Judge couldn’t wait to tell Chloe about this. She was coming to terms with what was becoming of her family, and this would set her mind even more at ease.

“My loved ones call me that, people I’m tight with,” Duncan continued. “And if you want, I’m inviting you both to do the same.”

Holy fuck.

He felt Rix’s gaze so he looked to his friend.

“But remember,” Duncan kept going, and they turned back to him, “when we’re at work, we’re at work. Harvey calls me Bowie, but Harvey is to me what he is to me and people get it.” He pinned Judge with his eyes. “You’re seeing Chloe, people will get that. But just be aware. This is important.” He swung a hand out to indicate the campfire, the story, and what he’d just given to Rix and Judge. “But work is work.”

“You don’t have to say that, man. We get it,” Rix said quietly.

Judge jerked up his chin to indicate Rix was right. They got it.

Duncan nodded.

“It was, you know,” Rix said.

Everyone focused on him.

“It was what?” Duncan asked.

“A rite of passage,” Rix told him. “Though not the one your father expected. I hate you had to do that. I hate that doe had to go down. But since then, you’ve saved forests. You’ve blocked building on important land. You’ve stood strong between The Man pushing to sprawl and spoil, desecrate and destroy, steal and appropriate, and you’ve put a stop to it. You became the man you were going to be that day, Duncan. And if that doe was sentient, and she understood what was to come for you, my guess is, she would have felt her sacrifice was worth it.”

Duncan stared at Rix for so long, not only Judge but Tom shifted in their seats.

And his voice was gruff when he replied, “You’re right, Rix. Thanks.”

At his tone, Judge knew, Duncan still felt that doe’s death. He still felt the bite of regret, and it was far more than a sting.

But Rix in Rix’s way alleviated it.

Maybe not totally, but a little.

“Don’t mention it,” Rix muttered like it was no big deal what he said, when it was.

Duncan had to know he’d become that man, because he was that man.

But it never hurt to know other people saw it.

Tom grinned at Judge.

Judge grinned back.

“Did someone bring the makings for s’mores? Because if they did, it’s time for those and Bushmills,” Rix declared.

“On it,” Judge said, pushing up from his camp chair, because he one hundred percent packed marshmallows, chocolate bars and graham crackers in his backpack.

And he knew Rix carried in the Irish whiskey.

* * *

One week later…

“So, Maman, you’ve spent quite a bit of time in New York City,” Chloe declared.

Judge watched Genny’s brows knit together as she looked at her daughter across the table at Steak 44, where they were having dinner in Phoenix.

“Uh, yes, my darling daughter,” Genny replied. “As you know since we’ve been there shopping together on no less than two dozen occasions.”

Of course they had.

Judge smiled to himself and reached for his beer.

“And you have many friends and acquaintances who live there,” Chloe went on.

Hand with beer arresting in mid-air, Judge looked to his woman.

“Out with it, Chloe, what’s this about?” Genny, unsurprisingly knowing her daughter was up to something, demanded.