Page 37 of The Locksmith's Promise

How shallow was that?

He’d missed out on all Cor’s baby, toddler, and early childhood stages, and I worried he might show me up by purchasing him a couple of guitars.

“We’ll buy a couple of wall mounts for them,” I murmured.

“Awesome,” Corwin breathed, looking at his dad with stars in his eyes.

I had to start schooling my face. Used to it being just the two of us, Corwin was far too in tune with me, and he shouldn’t be privy to my struggles.

I smiled at him. “We’ll start looking for a more permanent place. You, me, Jeff, and your guitars are going to need more space,” I teased.

Corwin shrugged. “We don’t need a backyard in this place. The whole town is like my backyard now.”

Baxter grinned at me. “We have to take him hiking.”

We.

God, how I’d longed for the three of us to be we.

Bax’s words and the joy on his face pummeled the walls of my resistance. Every hour spent with him poked the sleeping dragon of a once-longed-for dream.

One I couldn’t afford to entertain.

I’d once beaten it back, but the dark place hovered always on the periphery, threatening to suck me back in.

I suspected I’d have to walk back through it for the hope of the dream on the other side.

And there were no guarantees.

I was comfortable, I’d worked hard to get to this place, and I learned long ago it was better not to ask for more.

With that reminder, I survived the rest of the evening with most of my heart intact. Back at my place, Corwin tucked into bed, coffees in hand, I addressed the elephant in the room.

Drawing my feet up under me on one end of the couch put a little extra space between us.

Baxter reached out a hand and stroked the cushion in front of my foot, murmuring, “Red today.”

What would he say if he knew the rest?

I gave my head a shake.

I should have taken the chair.

“This can’t be about us, Bax,” I stated quietly. “There is no us. Not in any kind of romantic sense. Not anymore.”

“Maggie,” he whispered, pained.

His voice sliced me open like a knife.

“I don’t want Corwin’s heart broken.” I sniffed and pinched the bridge of my nose.

Or mine.

I shook my head and inhaled a shuddering breath. Refusing to look at him, unwilling to add the look on his face to my list of sins, I searched for that blessed numbness that had carried me through more occasions than I could count.

Including our dinner earlier.

It settled over me gently as I firmly and bluntly set him straight. “It’s only natural that he’ll fantasize about us being a little family of our own.” I met his eyes. “We can’t encourage that way of thinking.”

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