Page 98 of The Locksmith's Promise

Mostly I remembered steering clear of the beer tent and dying of envy and embarrassment that I rarely had money of my own for things like cotton candy.

I shook off the bad memories.

There would be more memories, so many more I’d make with Maggie and Corwin, and those would be worth keeping.

Bursting with pride at the privilege, I gave Corwin money to buy Mickey and himself lunch at the snack shack while Maggie and I wandered down to the venders.

Knowing Jenny was most certainly set up somewhere in that maze with Buns and Biscuits, I opted to find us a table while Maggie got us lunch.

She returned with a bag from Buns and Biscuits.

Hand trembling, she spread our lunch out on the table between us.

When I managed to meet her eyes, she smiled softly. “Putting the past behind us.”

“You’re okay talking to her?”

She shrugged. “If I’m okay talking to you, I should be okay talking to her. We’re never going to be friends,” she hurried to add, “but we can’t be enemies.”

“That makes sense,” I rasped, my throat tightening at the reminder that I was just as complicit as she was in whatever happened that night.

Maggie expertly steered the conversation to dreams for our future.

How that next step looked.

The type of home we wanted.

She reminded me of all the good bits of Moose Lake that had gotten lost in my nightmares, endlessly entertaining me until her mom called her over to help her set up the pie-eating contest.

I cleared away our garbage and left the table to make room for someone else. Leaning up against a tree, I stuck close to watch Maggie with the added bonus of Corwin and Mickey in my sights as well.

Juggling fucking apples. Where did they get them? I didn’t even know Corwin liked apples all that much.

Their laughter, a combination of guffaws and high-pitched giggles, set off a rumble of joy in my own chest.

I turned my attention back to Maggie, watching as she helped her mom set out the pies, spacing them carefully along the length of the long table.

Back in the day, Miller and I stole half of them and ran off into the forest. My stomach hurt just thinking about it.

“Hey, Maggie,” I called softly.

She looked over her shoulder with a soft smile on her face.

I grinned. “Remember the pie heist?”

Her cheeks pinked as she laughed, shook her head, and held a finger up to her lips. But as her gaze drifted over my shoulder, her smile faded, and her mouth opened in horror.

I whipped around and followed her line of sight.

Corwin stood with his back braced against the archery target, holding an empty cotton candy cone on his head with a fucking apple balanced on top.

Mickey stood twenty feet away from him, notching an arrow into his bow with a look of fierce concentration on his face.

I took off at a run with a roar, “What the fuck are you doing?”

Crossing in front of Mickey in case he actually managed to load that fucking thing, I stalked up to Corwin and knocked the apple off his head.

My heart pounded in my chest, a sharp pain intersecting my lungs as my breath escaped in rough pants.

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