Page 106 of The Locksmith's Promise

“Maggie,” Baxter whispered gruffly.

Baxter.

Baxter was here with me.

We had a son.

We had a future.

Tearing my attention away from Deacon and Jenny, my eyes slid toward Baxter slowly. But no sooner had I met his gaze than mine danced away.

Unable to reconcile the man before me with the man who ripped my heart out of my chest with the woman sitting not thirty feet away, I couldn’t hold his gaze.

“Guys,” Miller interrupted. “Don’t jump to conclusions.”

With the memory vividly clinging to me, my eyes snapped up to meet his as I stated coldly, “No jumping involved, Miller.”

Miller sighed and shook his head. “Y’all have put me in an impossible position.”

Jenny and Miller were friends. For them, this was old news. It wasn’t their fault it seemed like yesterday to me.

“There’s no problem,” I murmured. “It’s all in the past.”

Baxter dipped his chin and stared at the scarred surface of the tabletop for a moment, then pushed his chair back and murmured, “Are you ready to head home?”

Pasting a brittle smile on my face, I turned to our table. “It was fun, guys.”

It wasn’t right for Baxter to feel the shame he must be feeling for something that may or may not have happened over a decade ago. Though based on Deacon’s reaction, that hope was becoming ever slimmer.

I swallowed and forced the words past the lump in my throat as I waved a finger between Baxter and me. “We’ve got a few bumps to iron out, but we’re getting there. Sorry to end the night on a bit of a downer.”

Maxine, Julie, and Vera stood and offered hugs and promises to get together later in the week while Miller raised his eyebrows and stared at Baxter.

He closed his eyes and offered a brief nod.

My hackles rose. What was that about?

I didn’t speak on the way back until we got to my door. “Um—”

Baxter stuffed his hands in his pockets and stated gruffly, “It’s okay, Maggie. I understand you don’t want me to stay tonight.”

I shook my head, eyes trained on the porch beneath our feet. We were not going backwards.

Not after all this time.

Not when we’d finally made our way back to one another.

I turned and placed my palm over his heart. “I want you to stay, Bax. I’m just sad.”

His breath hissed through his teeth as he moved toward me. Cupping his hand around my elbow, he gently drew me close. “I’m sad, too. And I’m so fucking sorry, baby.”

I nodded against his chest. “I know, Bax, I know. I wish it didn’t affect me like it does but being back here, with you, has ripped the scab off the wound, and it’s raw. It never really healed.”

“I wish—” he cut himself off.

“Me, too. Let’s just go to bed.” I sighed and tipped my chin back, meeting those dark eyes I loved so much. “Can we just go to bed?”

He nodded and turned me around in the circle of his arms so I could open the door. Then he let me go.

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