Aequitas by Hope Anika (best classic books of all time .txt) 📕

“He’s right, you know.”

Honor didn’t turn and look at Sam, even though she could feel his gaze—patient and steady and without censure. Part of it was because she didn’t want to start bawling again—which was about all she’d done since flying away from Cian two days ago—but mostly it was just shame.

Because Sam wasn’t telling her anything she hadn’t already figured out for herself. That her inclination to destroy Hannah’s self-appointed father was selfish and misguided and would only burn what little remained between her and Hannah to ash.

If anything remained at all.

Because that’s what you do when it gets hard—you run.

She flinched. The truth did hurt, she thought.

Like a bitch.

“Honor,” Sam said, his tone gentle but stern.

Sam. Who’d taken one look at her standing in his doorway and demanded, “Whose ass am I kicking?” Who’d pulled her into his arms and his home and told her how glad he was to see her.

And meant it.

Family. All that she had; the sole living person who’d ever given a damn about her.

Then. But not now. And her stupid heart wouldn’t let her forget it.

I bloody-well care about you, Honor.

For years the only thing she’d wanted was Hannah, and that want, it had hurt. Every day. But not like this… Hannah had been taken, but Cian…

Cian she’d run from. And the regret was bitter and sour, and it threatened to choke her with every breath.

“Maybe he shouldn’t have lied to you,” Sam conceded. “But people fuck up. Hell, if it was me, I wouldn’t have told you the truth. You like to think you’re calm and logical and reasonable. Truth is, you’re reactionary and hot-headed and you’d have burned the whole damn place down to the ground without thinking twice.”

She flinched again. “Not helping.”

“Honey, pride is expensive,” he replied softly. “I’m trying to save you some change.”

The porch swing beneath them creaked as he moved it back and forth. Sam’s log home sat nestled in the Cascade foothills, just outside of Silver Bend, Washington, surrounded by a pine forest and thick stands of fluttering aspen. A quiet, peaceful place filled with wild lupine and sleek, caramel-colored elk; the sound of the nearby stream was like a balm to the soul.

She should have visited earlier, and being here now only made her realize what she’d missed. Inside, she could hear Sam’s fiancé Lucia talking to Ben, their youngest ward, who chattered nonstop, like an excited bird. Lucia, too, had welcomed Honor with open arms, her smile so warm and beautiful, Honor had immediately understood why Sam had fallen head over heels in love.

She couldn’t hear Ben’s brother Alexander, but she’d seen him last night at dinner, his face drawn as he studied her with eyes that saw far too much.

A tragically old soul. And he knew. He knew that three months ago—while Sam and Lucia were on the run, fighting to save the boys from the monster who was their father—that Honor had been the one to share with the world the truth about Donovan Cruz—that it was her who’d shown the world what he’d done—and in doing so, she’d changed Alexander’s life, for both the better and the worse. It had been unavoidable, and something she would do again, but having to answer for it…that was new.

And unwelcome. Another bitter lesson being served up.

On the flight from Tallinn, somewhere over the Atlantic, Honor had realized that perhaps it was time for Aequitas to fade quietly away. Not that she was done with her work—not by a long shot—but the identity had become a liability and was no longer safe to utilize. A huge undertaking—because it meant reworking her entire life—but to continue was simply foolish. Aequitas had served its purpose.

It was time to move on.

“Pride can take everything,” Sam added. “If we let it.”

Honor stiffened, staring out into the thick green stand of pine trees. Far off in the distance, Mount Rainier shimmered, veiled by wispy clouds and fresh snowfall. The scent of something spicy and delicious floated through the open window behind them, and her stomach murmured in interest.

“I can’t,” she said shortly. The ache in her chest grew painfully sharp, as if someone had pushed a spike through her heart.

“Being wrong is hard,” Sam replied, “but not insurmountable.”

Honor scowled. “It isn’t just pride.”

“Isn’t it?” Sam arched a brow, the one which bore a long, ugly scar. From his father, Honor knew, but the details of that incident were something he’d never shared. And she hadn’t pushed, she realized suddenly, because she’d been wholly wrapped up in her own painful scars.