Page 113 of The Locksmith's Promise

I wasn’t ready to hear this, I’d never be ready, but I owed Maggie the truth.

With her mittened hands folded tightly in her lap, gaze steady on my face, she unwound the tale that ended with me waking up with her in my bed.

Every single word hit me with the force of a wrecking ball.

My arms numbed and dropped to my sides as I began to shake from the phantom pain of Miller easing my puss-crusted shirt away from my back.

I’d forgotten about that.

A tear rolled over what must have been a well-worn path over her cheek.

I searched her eyes. “I’m so fucking sorry,” I rasped.

She shook her head. “It wasn’t your fault.”

Stumbling over to the bench, I dropped down beside her and stared out over the water.

“Did he—”

“No.”

“You’re sure?”

She nodded shortly. “As sure as I can be.”

“I don’t remember any of this,” I whispered, but it was a lie.

My back burned.

The edges of that nightmare glowing like the seared edges of a burning piece of paper.

My hands shook as fury rampaged through me, a wildfire set to destroy everything in its path.

Leaping to my feet, I paced back and forth. I clenched my fists in my hair and pulled, relishing the sharp bite of pain.

I couldn’t handle this.

Not this on top of all the years before.

I can’t see Maggie.

Hands shaking, I drew my cell phone from my pocket and called her.

“Maggie.”

God, Maggie.

“Hey,” she replied softly.

This would devastate her.

I hurried on before I lost my nerve. “I’ve got a few things to do today. I might not be able to see you until later.”

“What are you doing?”

I could barely hear her over the blood thrumming in my ears.

Fury ran like lava through my veins.

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