Page 90 of The Locksmith's Promise

“Hey.”

“You alright?”

I shook my head. “Can I stay here?”

“Of course.” Miller backed up and let me in. “You want a beer?”

“Coffee,” I grunted.

“I’ll get you some clothes and you can jump in the shower first.”

I followed him up the stairs, noting the door to the master bedroom quietly snicking shut as we passed.

Heat creeped up my neck. “Sorry about disturbing your family so late.”

He shook his head. “You’re not a disturbance.”

Tossing me a clean towel, t-shirt, and sweats from the hall closet, he headed for the stairs. “I’ll see you down there.”

I paused and turned to track his retreat. “You keep your clothes in the hall closet?”

He rolled his eyes and shook his head. “Maxine. That woman’s got more clothes than she knows what to do with.”

I grinned and huffed out a laugh. “Is that what I have to look forward to?”

He smirked. “Only if you’re really fucking lucky.”

Luck.

The one thing that had forever been in short supply.

I closed the bathroom door and spun the tap to hot before stripping down and stepping under the spray.

The sensation of being preyed upon eased as the hot water pounded the back of my neck and eased the tense and aching muscles of my shoulders.

I scrubbed my hands over my face and fought the rage boiling inside me.

I’d been running from that bastard since I was eleven years old, seeking shelter at friends’ houses when things got particularly bad, sleeping with one eye open and a chair propped against the door of my bedroom the rest of the time.

The fucker was dead, and I was still running.

I wasn’t eleven years old anymore and I still didn’t want to go home.

Unwilling to sleep another night with my back pressed against the wall and one eye on the door.

A phantom pain, a blistering heat, a whimpered protest.

It teased the edges of my brain, never fully formed, and the horror rising inside me assured me it never would.

Something happened.

It was bad.

But it wasn’t my bad. Of that, I was almost positive.

Tipping my head back, I let the water run over my face.

A baptism.

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