Page 12 of The Locksmith's Promise

All he missed out on with the son he never met.

The realization hit me like a soccer ball to the gut. I’d hurt him just the same as everybody else.

If I hadn’t doubted, if I hadn’t feared he would be like his father, perhaps I would have tried harder.

I unwrapped my arms and placed my trembling hands in his, inhaling sharply as my heart stuttered to a stop at the first touch of his calloused fingertips.

Nothing had ever felt so good, so sweet, or so right as Baxter’s skin against mine. With everything that had changed in all the years we’d been apart, that truth remained.

He stared down at me, face grim, gaze locked on mine.

I blinked up at him. “Bax,” I whispered, searching his eyes. “You look so good. How have you been?”

He dipped his chin to meet my eyes, those dark pools pulling me in as they always had. “I’m good, Mags.” He offered a small smile. “Better now.”

“Are you married?” I blurted, my fingers clinging tighter to his.

What am I thinking?

His brow puckered. “No. You?”

I shook my head.

One smile and all my self-preservation flies out the window?

His frown deepened. “Anybody serious?”

I shook my head harder. “You?”

“No.” His brow relaxed, and his lips quirked to the side. “So, no crazy woman will try to yank your hair out, and no plaid-wrapped studmuffin will threaten to beat me up if I take you out for coffee.”

I’m just going to forget the fact he betrayed me and refused to pick up my calls?

I tugged my hands, but he held fast. “It’s just coffee, Mags.”

My blood pressure shot through the roof as the back door opened.

“I’ll ask my mom!” Corwin hollered, then began to laugh. “Jeff! Get back here!”

Corwin’s voice jerked my attention away from the very real threat looming over my hard-earned tranquility.

Our splash-painted ball of fluff ran through the kitchen into the family room, his little paws skidding across the hardwood.

“Jeff?” Baxter whispered incredulously, his grip tightening almost painfully as he stared at our dog.

I winced.

When Corwin jogged in, face wreathed with smiles, Baxter dropped my hands like they were on fire.

Staggering two steps back, he whispered, “Oh my God.”

The blood drained from his face and left his dark eyes standing out in stark relief.

Sliding his fractured gaze to mine, he raised his eyebrows. “Is he…”

I nodded, icy fear unfurling in my stomach. Was it possible he didn’t know? Didn’t get my messages?

Impossible.

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