Page 28 of The Locksmith's Promise

Because there was a time I didn’t think I could live without that man.

A darker time when I didn’t want to.

I’d scraped and clawed my way out of that hole so I could be a good mom to my son. Now, I had to be a good mom to myself and look after my heart.

Or risk sliding back down into that pit.

“Come on, Jeff,” I coaxed quietly giving a gentle tug on the lead. “Let’s go home.”

Tail wagging like a flag of surrender, she followed me up the steps to the second story balcony entrance to our shoebox apartment.

Baxter’s deep chuckle and Cor’s high-pitched laughter seeped through the door like an invitation I desperately wanted to accept.

Staring at the closed door, I slid down the post to sit on the top step and pulled Jeff onto my lap.

I had the strangest sense of Deja Vue, a prickle of warning spreading beneath my skin, but it was no more than a sliver of a life I used to dream about a lifetime ago.

When I pulled myself together as best I could, I went back in.

I’d expected Baxter to leave once Corwin headed for bed, had even braced myself for it, but he asked if we could talk.

I nearly declined, but I owed him that much.

After tucking in our son for the night, because at ten years old, Cor still wanted that fifteen-minute debrief of the day before conking out, I headed back to Baxter.

He waited for me at the kitchen table.

I paused. “Do you want a coffee?”

He shook his head. “Is it okay if I ask you some questions?”

He was entitled to know everything there was to know about his son. And I intended, to the best of my ability, to fill in all the gaps.

I nodded slowly. “I’ll do my best to answer them.”

He blew out a breath as I slid into the chair across from him.

“I understand why you left, Mags. I do. But why didn’t you come back when you found out you were pregnant?”

I gaped, staring back at him with wide eyes. “Uh—” I stuttered.

He sat, dark eyes patient and steady, waiting for an answer that would make sense of his new reality.

“Bax,” I whispered. “I knew I was pregnant before I left.”

It was his turn to stare, slack jawed. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“That’s why I went looking for you,” I began, stopping when the agony of that day rose fast and hot.

His brow furrowed. “You went looking for me?”

I gave my head a shake and met his eyes. “I called you.”

My voice shook with my rising blood pressure.

“As soon as I calmed down, I called you. Over and over and fucking over,” I hissed. “I left messages, Bax. I told you about him.”

He rubbed a rough hand over his face. “Fuck.”

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