Page 71 of The Locksmith's Promise

“Bax,” I mewled, curling into him further as the first tears fell. “I missed you. I missed you so much.”

“Baby, baby, baby,” he breathed, his voice breaking.

Tears streamed down my face like their source was the sea itself.

I’d missed the solid muscles of his chest, his lap bearing my weight, his hands on my body, and the steady beat of a heart that had borne more pain than one person should ever have to.

But he was here now.

And so was I.

His low murmur anchored me even as the rising force of my tears threatened to carry me away.

Eleven years of longing flowed forward within the safety of his arms.

The years of missing him, loving him, praying for him, and hoping against hope he was safe and happy.

The years, weeks, days, hours, and minutes I’d buried my love for him underneath the rubble of my heart.

Every single one of Corwin’s milestones they’d missed celebrating together, those losses I’d grieved for both of them.

And myself.

It poured out of me.

Finally, I drew in a long, shuddering breath and pressed my mouth to his neck, my exhausted eyes fluttering shut at the bittersweet homecoming.

Don’t let me go, please don’t let me go.

“I’m so sorry, baby.” He squeezed me tighter as his voice lowered. “It’s over now, you hear me? It’s me and you, me and you and Cor and Jeff against the world.”

You and me, Maggie. You and me against the world.

I answered with a watery laugh as I pushed myself off his chest and wiped my face. “Oh my gosh,” I muttered. “That was a long time coming.”

It was a purging.

A washing away of the past to make room for the future.

“I’m glad I was here for it,” he answered, adding his palms to the mix.

I snorted as he smiled at me.

He raised his eyebrows, eyes steady on mine. “Want to watch a movie?”

“Yeah,” I nodded, unwilling to let him go just yet. “That sounds wonderfully normal.”

It took a few minutes, but my body melted into his as the movie played in the background, and we grew accustomed to each other once more.

When the time came for him to go, he laced his fingers through mine and led me to the door.

I longed for him to stay, but I needed him to go.

His dark eyes caressed my face as fleeting as a lover’s first sweet touch.

Part of me wanted to run, turn my face away, bury this hope that had so recently taken root.

The other part, the part that knew it was already too late, leaned into him as he gently cupped my face in his big hands, tipped my chin up, and dipped his head.

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