Page 43 of The Locksmith's Promise

I’d loved her. I’d loved her with everything in me, and even yet, I had no idea of the treasure I’d held in my arms.

If only I could go back, I’d do everything differently.

I’d do more.

Give more.

Give fucking everything.

Fury for the sins of the past, the sins of my father, and the sins of that first year lashed every corner of my mind like a bullwhip.

There was nowhere to hide from the shame and regret. Powerless and hopeless, companions I knew well and swore I’d never visit again, swept me into despair and slammed the door shut.

“Please.”

A guttural sob broke from my throat.

I grit my teeth.

Please.

The first tear fell.

Creating a crack in the dam for the rest.

One on top of the other, sticking in my throat, choking me.

I turned onto my stomach and pressed my face into the pillow like I had done all too often as a child, praying it muffled the sound as my past rose up to suffocate me.

How much suffering is one soul supposed to bear?

Every muscle in my body locked tight against the onslaught of grief that had never been permitted to surface.

I didn’t hear my bedroom door open, but I didn’t acknowledge Miller when he said my name.

I didn’t move when the door snicked shut or when he cursed at the sight of my naked back.

Nor did I object when his weight hit the mattress, or when he curled his massive body around mine.

But when his tears hit my face, I latched onto his wrist. The years melted away like the last grains of sands slipping through the glass, and I cried like it was yesterday.

For the yesterdays I missed.

And the yesterdays I wished had never been.

11

The Least of It

Baxter

Six o’clock the next morning, I hit the trails. The chilly morning air worked its magic to clear my head and cut a path through the brush clogging my way forward.

I couldn’t relive the past ten years, but I could make amends for my absence and reclaim a measure of joy for me and my boy and the time we lost.

I couldn’t turn back the clock, but I could be present now and prepare for his future. I could have kicked myself for the money I wasted over the years, money I could have set aside for Corwin’s education.

Or his baby formula and fucking diapers.

---