Page 64 of The Locksmith's Promise

“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.

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