Page 17 of The Locksmith's Promise

I needed to touch her again. Hold her. I’d take any excuse.

She nodded and threw my jacket up onto the rock before digging her toe into a small outcropping and offering me her hand.

Soft and warm, under any other circumstances, I’d have rejoiced at her touch but all I could think about was the fact that she kept my son from me.

And the probable reason why.

As soon as I pulled her up, I dropped her hand and took half a step back. Pained, I whispered, “I wouldn’t have hurt him.”

She gasped, her eyes wide on mine. “I know that!”

My lips trembled like a child’s. I ducked my head and regained control of my wayward emotions. “Then how could you keep him from me, Maggie?”

She shook her head. “I didn’t keep him from you.”

I stared at her hard, my eyes wide, mouth gaping like a fucking fish. “Well, you sure as hell didn’t tell me about him!”

Her eyes bugged out. “I tried! I called you over and over, but you never answered, Bax!” Her face flushed red. “You left me!”

Tears filled eyes that looked more green than brown in her sadness and overflowed.

I tugged her into my arms, fitting her body perfectly against mine. “Maggie,” I groaned. “I never left you; I left Moose Lake.”

“Well, Bax,” she answered bitterly, fists in my shirt, forehead tucked against my chest. “You didn’t fucking take me with you either, did you?”

I ducked my head, my body trembling with remorse remembering those final days.

How badly I betrayed her.

“Yeah. That, too,” she surmised correctly where my thoughts had run and pulled away.

“It didn’t mean anything,” I murmured, forcing myself to meet those beautiful eyes I filled with tears.

Maybe I didn’t deserve to know about him.

She stared out over the field, tears staining her cheeks. “Well, it meant something to me.”

“I don’t remember what happened, Maggie. I only remember waking up with her beside me.”

“Stop,” she held up her hand.

The pain in her voice halted the rest of my explanation.

“I can’t,” she admitted, her voice strained. “I can’t talk about this right now. I didn’t know you were here. I wasn’t ready.”

“I’m so sorry, Mags,” I whispered, hands hanging useless at my sides.

My anger dissipated. Because however it looked, in the end, this, too, was my fuck-up.

“We’ll find our way back to being friends,” she declared softly.

Friends.

“I loved you, Maggie, I’ve always loved you. It was never a question of not loving you.”

I knew I was pushing too hard, going too fast, but I yearned for her forgiveness, and the words came tumbling out.

She swallowed audibly and edged away from me. “It’s all in the past now.”

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