Page 19 of The Locksmith's Promise

And there was nobody in Moose Lake who knew to tell him.

Until two months ago? I’d never been back.

And knowing what was at stake, my parents never revealed Corwin’s father.

Corwin shuffled closer and leaned his hip against my shoulder.

I wrapped my arm around him. “You hungry?”

He shrugged, blinking the sleep from his eyes. “A little.”

Closing my eyes, I braced myself for what was to come. “Want to sit down at the table and I’ll make you a grilled cheese sandwich?”

He nodded and padded to the table as I turned to the fridge.

Squat and beige, it was a far cry from the stainless-steel behemoth we used to enjoy in our place in the city. I bent down and pulled out butter, cheese, and fresh, thickly sliced bread.

“Who is Baxter?”

I froze for half a breath, then dropped the makings for his sandwich on the counter, walked to the table, and sat down beside him.

“You know most of the story,” I began, watching his face for the moment the gears clicked into place. “I fell in love with my very best friend in the world. His father, who would have been your grandfather, was a terrible, terrible man. Because of him, when I found out I was pregnant with you, Grandma and Grandpa helped us move away where he wouldn’t be able to hurt us.”

He nodded slowly, those dark eyes I knew better than my own steady on mine.

“That awful man died a few months ago, around the same time Grandpa called and asked us to consider moving home to help him and Grandma.”

He nodded.

“That man was Baxter’s father. And Baxter is yours.”

He nodded easily, having already put the clues together. He knew the story. Knew I’d fallen in love with my best friend. There weren’t a lot of gaps to fill in.

He jerked his chin toward my faded, over washed sweatshirt, the one I’d told him was my best friend’s. “So that’s his?”

I nodded shortly.

“Why didn’t he come with us?”

I grimaced. “Well, see, that’s where the story gets complicated. Because while I was sure he knew about you—”

“He seemed surprised yesterday,” he interrupted.

I raised my eyebrows and slowly bobbed my head. “He was.”

“So, he didn’t leave us?”

I shook my head. “No. He didn’t leave us.”

He just left me.

“Does he want to know me?”

The look on Baxter’s face when we made it back through the woods as he told me he wanted to get to know his son left no doubt in my mind.

“He wants that more than anything,” I admitted.

A slow smile spread across his face. “I have a dad.”

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