Page 40 of The Locksmith's Promise

My hand trembled.

Because here? Here was the history I missed.

The stories and memories we could have made together, forever lost.

My heart pounded in my chest because the family I wanted? The family I told Maggie I fantasized about us being?

It began without me, and the evidence lay between the pages of this book.

The silence of the house pressed in around me.

I sucked in a deep breath and blew it out slowly.

There was never going to be a time looking at these pictures wouldn’t hurt. And maybe, to move forward with Maggie, I had to look back.

To understand where she was now, I had to know where she’d been and what she’d been through.

What they’d both been through without me.

Crawling across the bed, I settled with my back braced against the headboard. I stretched out my legs and crossed my ankles before gently placing the album on my lap.

I ran my hands over the cover, the faux leather worn, the flaking along the spine evidence of memories treasured long before they ever came to rest in my incapable hands.

I squeezed my eyes shut, tipped my head back against the wall, and opened the cover.

Braced myself.

And looked down.

Oh, God.

I sucked in a breath because nothing could have prepared me for Maggie.

Just as she looked when I left her.

My chest seized as my breath escaped in rough pants. My fingers shook as I stared down at her face on the page.

Maggie.

Oh, God. I wasn’t ready for this.

Not ready to see my Maggie’s sweet face sad and drawn.

My vision blurred, and I tipped my head back against the wall.

If only I hadn’t been drinking that night.

If only I hadn’t picked up the knife.

If only I’d left and taken Maggie with me, started fresh somewhere else. Together.

If only I hadn’t been afraid she wouldn’t come with me.

If only.

The two most hated words in the English language.

Pressing the flats of my fingers against my eyes, I steadied my breathing and swiped the moisture away. I had to do this.

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