Page 62 of The Locksmith's Promise

My dad paused. “He also called me and told me to make sure he left.”

“Why?” I breathed, anger and confusion heating the blood in my veins. “How could you keep this from me?”

“You were a mess,” he admitted. “My concern was for you, you and Corwin.”

“We did encourage you to call him,” Mom added. “We told you there had to be more to the story.”

“You did,” I murmured. Unwilling to let them off the hook entirely, I added, “I just didn’t know you were part of it.”

I met my dad’s eyes and accused, “You could have told me any time in the past ten years.”

Dad winced as he reached out and drew me into his arms.

My dad, the one man I trusted absolutely, had kept vital information from me.

For ten years.

And it left me cold.

“You know I want what’s best for you,” he stated softly. “Always. If I didn’t think Baxter was it, I’d never tell you to get to the bottom of what happened between you.”

I disentangled myself from him as my mom added, “See if my grandson wants to sleep over. It’ll give you two an opportunity to talk.”

It was easier to go along with their suggestion than argue when what I most needed was to get away from both of them.

My entire body vibrated with emotions I couldn’t name.

Without another word, I swung open the front door, jogged down the path to Corwin, and pasted on a smile. He leaped at the opportunity for a sleepover, still at that age when going to Grandma and Grandpa’s constituted a mini vacation.

Or perhaps it was simply that we’d been gone so long that free access to them was still a novelty.

Either way, Baxter followed me home in his truck while I contemplated the possibility of driving off into the sunset and lamenting the fact it wasn’t an option this time.

Parking in the shared lot, we met at the foot of the stairs leading up to my apartment.

He stood, unmoving, with his hands stuffed in his front pockets.

Dark eyes raw with longing, he offered a shaky smile that thrummed my deepest heart strings. “I think that went well. What do you think?”

I nodded slowly. I’d always been weak when it came to Baxter.

He dipped his chin and studied the ground for a moment before meeting my eyes once more. “Were they warning you away from me?” he asked softly.

“No,” I scoffed. “Quite the opposite.”

Astonishment flickered across his face. “Really?”

I crossed my arms over my chest. “They said we should talk, that there’s more to the story, but that it’s your story to tell.”

His shoulders slumped. “It’s not much of a story.”

There was never going to be a time when I was ready to hear it. But my parents were right about one thing; it was long past time.

For Corwin’s sake if nothing else.

“Do you want to come in?”

“Thank you,” he answered simply.

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