Page 53 of The Locksmith's Promise

That vision from the past whipped up crisp and clear as that morning I found them. Super-imposing over the present, it threw my body back in time.

“Oh, God,” I gasped as my knees gave out, reaching for the source of my misery for comfort in the midst of my panic.

“Maggie,” he exclaimed, eyes wide as he grasped me by my upper arms.

I stared into space, my breath coming in pants as the past, present, and future played out in front of me all at once.

The past where another woman lay wrapped around him in his bed.

The present where he was suddenly back in my life, breaking down walls I’d worked hard to raise.

A future where Baxter would one day move on.

Where another woman, maybe even Jenny, would be on his arm, wear his ring, bear his children.

And as the mother of his child, I’d have a front row seat to all of it.

“Oh, no,” I panted, bending at the waist to catch my breath.

“Maggie, Maggie, Maggie,” he chanted, pulling me up to rest on his chest. With one hand cupping the back of my head and the other wrapped around my back, he rocked us back and forth. “I’m so sorry, Maggie. I’m so fucking sorry.”

I tried to suck in a breath, but my heart had shattered, and those razor-sharp pieces had pierced my lungs.

The wind was too cold, the sun too hot, and the number of steps between me and the haven of my home stretched out endlessly in front of me.

I couldn’t get any air.

I pulled away, arching my neck back. “I can’t breathe!”

“Fuck,” he spat, grasping my upper arms and dipping his knees. “Look at me, baby.”

Eyes wild, I looked for my front door, my fingers digging into his biceps.

“Maggie,” he clipped, giving me a little shake. “Look at me.”

My panicked gaze found his wide eyes and locked on. “That’s it,” he urged. “Breathe with me, Maggie.”

His chest rose with his inhale.

Mimicking him, I earned his affirming nod.

“That’s right,” he praised. “I’m here. You’re here. It’s over. Now breathe out.”

Repeating the exercise, my breathing slowly returned to normal.

And shame stepped into the space panic left.

“No,” he snapped, pulling me close. “It’s not your fault, Maggie.”

Holding me tight, he tangled his hand in my hair as he promised, “I don’t remember that night, Maggie. I don’t remember a single thing about that night. I don’t know how it happened, but I swear to God, I belonged to you. I had no interest in her and no intention of ever being with anyone else.”

God help me, I believed him.

And I needed him.

My hands crawled around his back. Then I buried my face in his hard chest and clung to his solid frame, breathing easier when his arms tightened further around me, my name a whisper on his lips.

Caged in his embrace, I breathed him in, closed my eyes, and longed for the purifying heat of his naked skin against mine.

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