Page 7 of The Locksmith's Promise

Wrapping my arms around myself to stave off the cold inside, I bustled down the main street.

What if I did look Baxter up?

Was I ready to face a reality where he was married with three kids?

A world where he’d made a family without me?

Or God forbid, a world where he’d turned out to be exactly like his father?

I wiped that thought from my brain. Even thinking he turned out like his dad was disloyal to the boy I’d known and loved.

I dipped my chin and accepted the truth; I loved him still.

Once we settled in just a little more, I’d approach Miller and see if he might help me contact Baxter. God knows the number I had never worked.

I closed my eyes and uttered a brief prayer for Baxter’s well-being, something I did multiple times a day.

You see, Corwin had my whole heart. But Baxter owned it first.

I swung the door open and called out a falsely cheerful greeting. “Hey, Jenny!”

It didn’t come naturally, but there was progress. At least her name didn’t catch in my throat anymore.

She tipped her chin up and smiled faintly. “Maggie.”

Back in the day, she’d been my best girlfriend and my nemesis. After so much time, and everything she’d lost, it no longer mattered.

It was easy to see why Baxter chose her in high school when he could have had me. Soft blue eyes, long black hair, and a model-perfect figure, she was beyond beautiful.

Somehow, I managed to separate this older, quieter Jenny from the girl I left behind. Almost like they were two entirely different people.

Perhaps they were.

Buns and Biscuits boasted barely enough room for one small table and a couple of shelves up front. All the magic lay behind the counter.

Painted in soft pink and sage green with chocolate-accented décor, it was not what I would have imagined her choosing. I was beginning to wonder if anybody really knew anyone.

“That sweet boy of yours after more cinnamon buns?” she asked.

I shook my head. “I can’t keep up with his sweet tooth.”

“Hm.”

Prickles of awareness swept up my arms as I met her knowing eyes.

She smiled softly; her blue eyes soft. “He looks just like him.”

I swallowed hard, my eyes skittering away. Reminding myself I no longer had anything to fear, I simply nodded.

“I can give you his contact information if you want,” she offered.

My eyes flew to hers, flashing an accusation I had no time to mask.

She shook her head. “No. It’s not like that. It never really was. We were just two lonely kids who understood each other’s pain.”

Her mouth twisted. “And then later—”

My stomach revolted. I held up my hand to cut her off. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

---