Page 88 of The Locksmith's Promise

Sitting on the couch with her feet in my lap, the TV near soundless in the background, I absorbed the jerk of her body when my words hit home.

“I’m sorry, baby,” I muttered, my failures and sins weighing on me heavily. “But I don’t want to keep things from you.”

She stared down into her hot chocolate and drummed her fingers on the side of her mug. Face drawn, she finally looked up at me. “Maybe you should talk to her.”

I drew back, my eyebrows rising as my hand clamped around her ankle. “What?”

Sadness in her eyes, she pressed her lips together and nodded before repeating herself.

My head dropped. “I just want to move on. Why can’t we all just move on?” I clipped, exasperated.

“You’re running from the past,” she murmured.

I pointed at the window, my eyes wide and incredulous. “Am I not here? Believe me when I tell you, there’s no running from the past in Moose Lake. Just because I don’t want to deal with drama from an old girlfriend doesn’t mean I’m running.”

She winced at the term I immediately regretted using, but then she tipped that stubborn chin up as her eyes held mine. “What are you afraid of?”

I blinked.

What was I afraid of?

That I’d lose Maggie.

That I’d done something so reprehensible as cheat on her.

That Jenny witnessed whatever happened to my back.

That the story was so much worse than I’d convinced myself it was.

My mind slammed shut.

“Maggie,” I rasped. “I don’t want to know more than I do.”

She yanked her feet out of my lap, set her mug down, and crawled across the couch. Kneeling beside me, she splayed her hand over my racing heart. “What can it hurt?”

I huffed out a rough laugh then shook my head and looked away. “Maggie, things can always get worse.”

“Or they might be better,” she suggested hopefully. “Maybe you didn’t do what you think you did. Maybe Jenny can explain what happened.”

I pulled her into my arms and squeezed my eyes shut.

I’d dealt with all of this.

I didn’t want to live in the past.

“Please, Bax.”

Her plea pierced me.

And revealed a deeper wound.

I inhaled deeply, sending the arrow ever deeper.

This wasn’t about me running from the past.

It was about Maggie, unable to let it go without knowing what happened.

And what would she do if it turned out to be the worst? Would she run again? Take Corwin with her?

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