Page 120 of The Locksmith's Promise

To bury it, all of it, just as I’d done before.

Fragments of memory, horrifying soundbites and short but vivid clips played through the static in my brain.

My back burned, a phantom pain.

Jenny lying on my bed, her limbs arranged in such a way as to make her most vulnerable.

My voice failing.

Her tears.

His laugh.

Memories I didn’t want.

“I don’t know if I can stand up under this,” I muttered. “I don’t even know who I am anymore.”

I would never escape him. Not only had he left his marks all over my body, but he was in me.

His DNA, his voice in my head, even his fucking mannerisms.

I had his truck, his house, and his old job.

What else would I take on of his?

“You may not know who you are, Bax, but I do.” Her sweet voice shook. “And I should have known it back then. I should have paused and given you a chance to explain,” she rushed on, the words catching in her throat. “Both of you. If I hadn’t run, we wouldn’t have lost a decade.”

“Baby, baby,” I soothed. “This is not your fault. Don’t let him take any more from us.”

She sucked in a breath. “Bax, I know who you are. I just forgot for a minute. But you knew, Bax. You never believed you could do it. Deep down, you’ve always known who you are and what you wanted.”

“I do know what I want. And I know I’ll give all of myself to keep it. I won’t lose you, Maggie,” I stated fiercely. “And I won’t lose him.”

“You won’t,” she agreed.

“Maggie, there are some things I need to take care of.”

Things I didn’t want to touch any part of her life.

She replied immediately, “I’ll be here when you’re ready.”

I gulped. “Promise?”

Voice soft, she assured me, “I’m not going anywhere.”

I ended the call and looked to Miller, John, and Eric. With a nod, I said, “Let’s finish this.”

Eric rubbed his hands together. “I’ll get the backhoe.”

“Don’t drive it into the fucking lake,” John jabbed.

“Fuck you, motherfucker.”

“Always so eloquent,” I quipped, adrenaline beginning to clear the fog in my brain.

Tipping his chin up at John, Miller ordered, “Grab the truck, and let’s fucking do this.”

“You got it, Chief.” John whooped and slapped me on the back. “You’re coming with me.”

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