Page 16 of The Locksmith’s Promise (The Promise Duet #1)

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M aggie

While it took us a bit to pull ourselves together to go inside, dinner went smoother than I thought it would.

Although, why I expected anything less than absolute kindness from my parents was anybody’s guess.

It helped that Baxter bought new baseball mitts for the three of them. My dad’s face lit up so brightly I had to laugh. Reminding him of my sad attempts at playing catch with him as a kid made him laugh harder.

When we called it a night, Baxter shook my dad’s hand, silent communication of the masculine kind exchanged before he headed out the door for one last round of catch in the front yard with Corwin.

Beside me in the front hall, my parents hovered.

My gaze darted between them. “What is it?”

Mom interlaced her fingers gently with mine and curled our joined hands against her chest. “Don’t be afraid to take a chance.”

My eyes bugged out. Kindness was one thing, but this was something else entirely.

“With Bax?” I asked incredulously.

The one who nearly destroyed me?

Smiling, she nodded.

Were you not there? Was it not you scraping me off the floor?

I stammered, searching for a response that might make sense in this new world where Baxter tossed the ball around in my parents’ backyard with our son and my dad after eating my mother’s meatloaf.

“A lot happened back then,” she began hesitantly, “more than you know. Don’t shut out the possibility of a future with him based on a tragedy in the past.”

My blood ran cold. “Tragedy?”

My dad shook his head. “Talk to him, Maggie. I want you to get the story from him, not piecemeal parsed together from wild imaginings or the fodder of rumours. I know Sergeant Elliott was involved. I know he was on Baxter’s side. And I also know he made him leave town.”

My dad paused. “He also called me and told me to make sure he left.”

“Why?” I breathed, anger and confusion heating the blood in my veins. “How could you keep this from me?”

“You were a mess,” he admitted. “My concern was for you, you and Corwin.”

“We did encourage you to call him,” Mom added. “We told you there had to be more to the story.”

“You did,” I murmured. Unwilling to let them off the hook entirely, I added, “I just didn’t know you were part of it.”

I met my dad’s eyes and accused, “You could have told me any time in the past ten years.”

Dad winced as he reached out and drew me into his arms.

My dad, the one man I trusted absolutely, had kept vital information from me.

For ten years.

And it left me cold.

“You know I want what’s best for you,” he stated softly. “Always. If I didn’t think Baxter was it, I’d never tell you to get to the bottom of what happened between you.”

I disentangled myself from him as my mom added, “See if my grandson wants to sleep over. It’ll give you two an opportunity to talk.”

It was easier to go along with their suggestion than argue when what I most needed was to get away from both of them.

My entire body vibrated with emotions I couldn’t name.

Without another word, I swung open the front door, jogged down the path to Corwin, and pasted on a smile. He leaped at the opportunity for a sleepover, still at that age when going to Grandma and Grandpa’s constituted a mini vacation.

Or perhaps it was simply that we’d been gone so long that free access to them was still a novelty.

Either way, Baxter followed me home in his truck while I contemplated the possibility of driving off into the sunset and lamenting the fact it wasn’t an option this time.

Parking in the shared lot, we met at the foot of the stairs leading up to my apartment.

He stood, unmoving, with his hands stuffed in his front pockets.

Dark eyes raw with longing, he offered a shaky smile that thrummed my deepest heart strings. “I think that went well. What do you think?”

I nodded slowly. I’d always been weak when it came to Baxter.

He dipped his chin and studied the ground for a moment before meeting my eyes once more. “Were they warning you away from me?” he asked softly.

“No,” I scoffed. “Quite the opposite.”

Astonishment flickered across his face. “Really?”

I crossed my arms over my chest. “They said we should talk, that there’s more to the story, but that it’s your story to tell.”

His shoulders slumped. “It’s not much of a story.”

There was never going to be a time when I was ready to hear it. But my parents were right about one thing; it was long past time.

For Corwin’s sake if nothing else.

“Do you want to come in?”

“Thank you,” he answered simply.

His heavy footsteps plodded up the stairs behind me, his remorse wrapping around us both so thickly I longed to stop, drop, and roll my way clear of all of it.

Instead, we settled on the couch with hot chocolate like two friends catching up on old times rather than a woman bracing herself to learn for sure if the man who gave her a child in exchange for her virginity had betrayed her in the worst way.

“I don’t know how to begin,” he admitted after too long of a silence had passed.

I wrapped my icy fingers around my mug. “Just tell me what happened.”

“The last thing I remember was going home and having words with my father.” His eyes narrowed but he gave his head a shake and carried on. “When I woke up, I was in my bed and Jenny was beside me.”

I swallowed hard, trembling as the memory of that day hitting me anew.

“I had a massive hangover, worse than any I’ve ever had before or since. I don’t even remember much about that morning. I know Jenny was in as bad of shape as I was. We didn’t talk at all, she just wanted to go home.”

He grimaced and gave his head a rough shake as he sucked in a harsh breath. “I remember getting in the shower and examining myself for evidence.”

My stomach hollowed out.

I didn’t need to know this, not for him to be Corwin’s dad.

Still, I rasped, “Did you find any?”

His mouth pulled down at the corners. “I don’t remember.”

I scoffed, then immediately regretted it when his eyes dropped, his face going blank.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered.

“I don’t remember a lot of things. I don’t remember going back to bed or driving to your house. It’s all a blur,” he continued.

“Please, Mags.” His dark, tortured eyes found mine. “I know I don’t have the right to ask you to forgive me, but I’m going to anyway. I don’t know what happened, I can only tell you that seeing her there when I woke up was a shock because I belonged to you. And I only wanted you.”

Jealousy burned holes in my stomach. “Have you talked to her since you left?”

He swallowed and dropped his eyes. “Not for the first year or two. She got in touch with me a while after that, once more a few years later, and again just after my dad passed, but I refused to talk about that night.”

Bile rose in my throat, but I swallowed it down. “She wanted to talk?”

He nodded and met my eyes fleetingly. “She said she needed to explain things.”

My thoughts spun. Red-hot rage swirled, tears stung the back of my eyes, and Mom’s meatloaf threatened to stage a comeback.

I wanted to stop.

But I only had to get through this once.

I wrestled control over my voice. “Why didn’t you talk to her?”

He shook his head, staring down into the mug cupped in his hands. “I just couldn’t. Shame? I don’t know.” He shrugged. “It felt disloyal to you. If I couldn’t fix things with you, why would I want to fix things with her?”

The old clock on the kitchen wall ticked loudly.

He sighed and scrubbed a large, rough hand over his eyes. The edge of his t-shirt pulled up, revealing a sliver of honeyed skin above the waistband of his jeans.

“Do you still have it?” I blurted.

His eyes flew to meet mine. “Have what?”

I dropped my gaze to his ribs then looked back at him.

“Do you?” he countered.

Hand trembling, I lifted my sweater and showed him the promise inked on my ribs.

Jaw going slack, he laser-focussed on my ribs. He extended his hand, fingers trembling.

And I fucking flinched.

He snatched his hand back, shock hissing through his teeth.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered.

It wasn’t disgust that made me flinch, but fear. If he touched me, even once, my walls would go up in flames.

But how was he to know that?

And how could I explain without giving myself away?

He shook his head and swallowed roughly. “You’ve got nothing to be sorry for.” He paused and cleared his throat. “I altered mine.”

The thought that he covered his while I held onto mine sickened me.

But I was not prepared for what he showed me.

Lifting his shirt, he revealed the key tattooed over his ribs that matched my own, but his had the addition of my name spelled out in elegant, swirling lines underneath it.

“Bax,” I whispered.

It thrilled me, touched my heart in ways that were dangerous for my very survival.

But the fact that Jenny had touched him, that she probably ran her hands over the promise we tattooed on our ribs, made me sick.

The fact there were countless more infuriated me.

Heat blistered my cheeks, and my breath froze in my lungs. “And how did your girlfriends feel about that?”

He immediately shook his head. “There have been no girlfriends.”

I raised my eyebrows and shifted as far away from him as I could without falling off the couch. “You expect me to believe that?”

Face twisting in a grimace, he explained, “The first year is a blur. Drinking, fighting, and waking up with no memory of the night before.”

His eyes met mine fleetingly before dancing away. “It was always you, even when it wasn’t. Then I got sober, and no amount of imagining could convince me. I didn’t want anybody else.”

I shuddered and whispered, “I can’t think about that.”

He stared down into his mug. “There hasn’t been anyone else since then.”

I kept going, a glutton for punishment. “How long has it been?”

“Ten years?” He shrugged. “At some point, I lost count of the months and years. I don’t remember the last time, and I don’t want to.”

Had he been as lonely as I was?

“You never wanted to meet someone real and settle down? Have kids? Make a family?” I prodded gently.

“Of course, I did.” His eyebrows rose. “I wanted it badly. But I only wanted it with you.” After a pause, he added, “I still only want it with you.”

Eyes wide, I stared at him.

He was right here.

Offering me everything I ever wanted.

In less than a second, I could be in his arms.

Without a doubt, I knew he’d open them to me.

Was it possible he truly didn’t remember? Was it possible nothing happened?

There was no way to know for sure. How could I trust him when I didn’t have all the facts?

And yet, we had no choice but to move on. One way or another.

He rubbed his palms down his long, denim-clad thighs. “Thank you for lending me Corwin’s baby album.”

I gulped, regret for my own part in our mess near choking me.

What if I’d have stayed?

What if I’d demanded an explanation back then when things were fresh? What if Jenny had an explanation for everything?

I shied away from the idea of talking to her.

Having her verify he slept with her would finish me in ways I couldn’t imagine.

“We can make copies of anything you want. All of them, if you want,” I offered.

He dipped his chin in acknowledgement then peeked up at me. “Can I ask you a question?”

I smiled wryly. “It seems to be the night for them.”

He huffed out a soft laugh. “Why did you choose the name Corwin?”

I smiled and inhaled deeply. This was something I could give him, freely and joyfully, without betraying myself.

“It means heart’s friend, and that’s what you were to me.” My voice shook. “That’s what made him.”

He dropped his chin. “I don’t deserve the grace you’ve given me.”

I shook my head. “No, Bax. The truth is, you’ve always deserved more than you got. Maybe I should have stayed, given you a chance to explain.”

“I don’t blame you for losing faith in me.”

“I never lost faith in you,” I denied. “I lost faith in us. Bax,” I began hesitantly. “Do you want to talk to her about it?”

My pulse throbbed in my throat. The last thing I wanted was for Baxter and Jenny to have a heart-to-heart.

There could never be a time we’d all go back to being friends. Not after everything that happened between us.

He set his empty mug on the coffee table and sat back. The lines around his mouth settled into deeper grooves.

“I just want to leave the nightmares of the past in the past. Where they belong.”

It was a good sentiment, a safe choice. But my body wouldn’t allow my pain to be so easily swept under the rug.

The words stung my throat. And the more I tried to hold them in, the hotter they burned.

“I called you,” I accused. “I called you every day for weeks. You never picked up.”

He rested his elbows on his knees and hung his head in his hands. “I was a mess, Mags. My opinion of myself was at an all-time low and sinking every day.”

Lifting glossy eyes to meet mine, he confessed, “I honestly thought you were better off without me. I was drinking, getting into fights every night. When I lost my cell phone, I took it as a sign to cut myself out of your life.”

“How could you think that?” I whispered. “After all we’d been through, especially with your dad, how could you think that?”

Quietly, he admitted, “Because I became just like him.”

I shook my head vehemently. “You could never be like him.”

“Maggie,” he interrupted, his voice pained.

“I went to your house to look for you, but you were gone. Your dad came out and told me to make something of myself and come back for you. It gave me a goal, something to focus on to get you back. I went back home to grab the money I’d saved, intending to do just that. ”

He held my gaze, daring me to listen. “I walked in the door, and he laughed at me. I didn’t understand how he knew, but the bastard laughed.”

I shuddered because I heard that laugh, still, in my worst nightmares.

He ran a shaking hand through his hair and admitted, “I held a paring knife to his throat until he bled.”

I gasped, my eyes flaring wide as I searched his face for truth. I couldn’t picture the Baxter I knew doing such a thing.

He nodded when I stared back at him in disbelief. “He nearly ruined your entire life.”

“He touched his throat, saw the blood on his finger, and laughed harder. He wanted me to do it, Maggie. He wanted me to put him out of his misery and send myself to hell on earth. You don’t know how close I came.

I’ve never felt that level of rage. Not before, and never since.

It took a long time, and a lot of therapy, to come back from that. ”

“That’s why you had to leave,” I murmured.

“He pressed charges. Somehow, Sergeant Elliott got him to back off. So long as I left town and never came back.”

My chest ached, my heart a swollen, pulsing mass beating for him.

God, it had always beat for him.

“Did you ever wonder about me?” I asked softly.

His expression softened. “Only every day. I called Miller all the time and asked about you. He promised he’d call me if you ever came back home.”

“Did he?”

He smiled.

And this time, it shone in his eyes.

“I’m here, aren’t I?”