He’s Dead

Baxter

“He’s dead.”

“Miller?”

I recognized his voice but couldn’t process his words.

Goosebumps broke out over my scalp and ignited a trail of fire down my spine. Bracing my hand against my family room wall, I gripped my cell phone tighter. “What?”

I stared straight through the present into the past, looking beyond the freshly buffed hardwood flooring and new leather couch to the worn carpet, threadbare corduroy sofa dotted with burn marks, and the dingy kitchen with its pock-marked countertops.

I cleared my throat. “Are you serious?”

My eyes dropped to the line of fading circles running up the inside of my forearm.

Miller answered firmly, “I wouldn’t joke about something like that.”

I tried to swallow with a mouth full of sand. My eyes flitted wildly around the room, bouncing from one high-end purchase to the next as I expelled the breath from my frozen lungs in icy gusts.

The community award I earned for my work on the women’s shelter sat on my bookshelf.

The landscape I bought on vacation hung on the wall behind the couch.

My guitars shone in their stands in the corner.

There were no pockmarks or burn stains here.

A tremor rolled through me.

I’d dreamed of this day. Planned for it for years before forcibly burying it in the deepest recesses of my mind.

Where was she?

I felt my way along the wall until I reached my favorite chair. Sinking down into its comfortable depths, I blew out a long, slow breath.

Was she married?

Did she have kids?

The place where my heart used to beat grew bruised and heavy.

Would she forgive me?

Are you worthy of her? Are you worthy of her like this?

“You know what else I wouldn’t joke about?” Miller continued.

“Tell me,” I demanded, parched for any hint of news.

“She’s back.”

I opened my mouth, but no sound came out.

The best friend that never truly let me go chuckled. “See you soon, fucker.”

Eyes on the Prize

Baxter

I slammed the liftgate down over the last box I’d packed into the cargo area of my SUV.

There wasn’t much. By the time I sold the furniture, all that was left was my guitars, my landscape, and my clothing. I didn’t know what waited for me in Moose Lake, and it wasn’t like I could pack up my furniture and sleep in that house.

Pacing the sidewalk with my cell phone pressed to my ear, I waited for Miller to pick up.

Here in Bridgewater in mid September, the mid-afternoon sun burned hot. At home it would be at least ten degrees cooler.

I still didn’t know the answer to the question, but worthy or not, I was going home.

“Yo.”

“Status.”

“She’s home; looks like she’s here to stay. Uh, I gotta tell you—”

“I don’t want to hear anything,” I cut in.

I’d taken enough from her. Anything else, I wanted her to give me freely. Or not at all.

“She’ll tell me herself if she wants me to know.”

A sharp laugh rang in my ear. “That’s how you want to play it?”

I nodded, then realized he couldn’t hear that. “I’m sure.”

“Bax,” he began. “I don’t want you to be blind-sided–”

“Miller,” I begged, coming to a stop. I covered my eyes with my hand and breathed deep.

I was so close.

“I don’t want to hear anything that might mean I can’t see her. Please. I’ll find out everything I need to know when I get there.” I closed my eyes. “I need to see her, talk to her, at least once. Just once.”

“Okay, man,” he replied softly.

He’d always had my back growing up. I wished I’d been half as good to him.

His next question cut through the debris of my thoughts. “You coming here?”

I snorted. “You got room at your place?”

The truth was, I hadn’t thought that far ahead. And Miller had gotten married and had a house full of kids since I’d left.

“Fuck, yeah,” he spat. “You think I’d let you sleep under that asshole’s roof?”

“My fuckin’ roof now,” I reminded him.

It had been weeks since Miller last called. I’d briefly considered packing it in and leaving right away, but I had responsibilities here, work to wrap up, and friends I couldn’t let down. Especially my band.

With bees buzzing beneath my skin, I waited until we played our last gig of the summer to break the news.

After the last performance, we gathered around the table Barrett’s wife, Willa, Lucky’s wife, Minty, and Lenny’s wife, Junie, had claimed earlier that night.

They were the reason I didn’t often join them.

Not that they weren’t good girls, they were.

And I’d grown to love them in my own way in the months I’d played with the band.

But they reminded me of the one I lost.

Eleven years later, it didn’t hurt any less.

Eleven years later, I still didn’t want anyone else.

My hand tightened into a fist as my knee began to bounce. “I’m moving back home.”

Barrett, Lucky, and Lenny turned to stare at me as one.

I wiped my sweaty palms down the worn thighs of my jeans. “My f-father,” I stumbled on the word, “passed away a few months ago. I’m going home to tie up loose ends.”

“Sorry to hear that,” Barrett rumbled.

“I’m not,” I admitted.

Lucky tipped his beer down his throat. “How long are you going for?”

I shook my head shortly. “I’ve got unfinished business. A lot of it. If things go the way I hope they do, I won’t be back.”

“Well, fuck!” Lenny exclaimed, slamming his bottle down on the table. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you say that many words in a row.”

I allowed a hint of a smile.

Lucky tilted his shaggy blond head back and eyed me. “I’m sorry to see you go, man. I hope you find what you’re looking for.”

Barrett leaned back and jerked his chin up with a small smile. “You already know what you’re looking for.”

I nodded shortly.

Those eyes that missed nothing flashed. “Or who.”

I nodded. “Who.”

Gifting me with a rare grin, Barrett stood up and extended his hand for mine.

Taking to my feet, I clasped his hand, then pulled him in for a hug. “Thank you. You don’t know—”

“I do,” he replied quietly. “Make sure you invite us to the wedding.”

I snorted my disbelief. I couldn’t afford to hope for the best, not when its failure to arrive delivered such devastating consequences.

Barrett’s hold on me tightened. “Eyes on the prize, man. Eyes on the prize.”

If anyone knew about that, it was him.

I breathed in his faith and nodded shortly. “Eyes on the prize.” Drawing back, I met his gaze. Calling myself a million times a fool, I claimed it. “I’ll see you in Moose Lake next summer.”

He grinned. “Count on it.”

I shrugged. “But I’m telling you now, if that woman ever agrees to marry me, we’ll be celebrating after the wedding. I won’t give her a minute to change her mind.”

He laughed. “I don’t blame you. I did the same.”

Over the past week, the three of them helped me pack up my house, and last night they brought pizza and beer for an impromptu goodbye party. I hadn’t known them all that long, but they’d quickly become brothers.

Would the past ten years have been different if I’d found them earlier?

I shook my head. Nothing would be worth it if it meant I wasn’t going home to Maggie now.

With a final look around the neighbourhood that had been more home to me than any other, I rounded the hood of my truck and readied myself to leave it all behind. I had just opened the door when the deep rumble of a motorcycle drew my attention.

Pulling in behind me, Lucky swung his long-ass leg over the seat and pulled off his helmet.

I quirked an eyebrow. “You miss me already, asshole?”

He grinned as he walked toward me, “Fuck you, motherfucker.”

I gasped in mock dismay. “Is that any way for a man who’s teaching the next generation to speak?”

He laughed. That sound, joyous and free, divided us in ways he couldn’t fathom.

“I have something for you.” Reaching into his pocket, he withdrew a small package and gave it to me.

I dipped my chin and opened the case to find a Hohner 64 Chromonica harmonica. My eyes stung suspiciously, as if I’d contracted a sudden case of hay fever.

“I know you don’t like accepting gifts,” he began roughly. “And I know you had a shit dad. I don’t know what that’s like, but I do know how much it means to have someone believe in you.”

Unable to look at him, I turned the harmonica over and over in my hands until something caught my eye.

My hands froze in place.

He had engraved the back.

Write your own song.

My mouth went dry while shame crept up my neck. He knew what I came from.

I cleared my throat and rasped, “Are you my daddy now?”

His laughter rang out and it pierced me.

Write your own song.

I grinned at him.

“He actually has teeth,” he teased.

Just then, a little red sports car pulled up behind Lucky’s bike.

His eyes lit up before he even turned around. The driver’s side door opened, and a shapely leg tipped in sky-high heels stepped out onto the pavement.

“I don’t know how you managed to land that,” I joked.

He smiled softly. “Fuck if I know but I’m not complaining.”

Minty smiled at me before opening the back door and leaning in.

Lucky’s head tilted to the side as he watched her round ass wiggle as she struggled to pull something out of the back seat.

“You better not have your eyes on my wife’s ass, fucker,” Lucky murmured.

I barked out a laugh and averted my gaze.

He faced me and wagged his eyebrows.

Of all of them, I would miss Lucky the most. He reminded me of Miller, and he made me laugh when for a long time, nothing had been remotely funny.

Minty closed the door and sashayed toward us, blond hair elegantly upswept, a small smile on her serenely beautiful face. She positively exuded grace, yet I’d seen that woman get down and dirty with the best of them.

She contained multitudes.

I tilted my head to the side. “What have you got there, Minty?”

Her cheeks pinked. “You know we get all kinds of donations for the music program at Lucky’s school.” She hiked up the guitar case in her hand. “This would be wasted in the classroom.”

I shook my head. “I can’t take something away from the kids.”

She held out a graceful hand and arched her brows. “It’s not polite to refuse a gift, Baxter Martin, and I know you don’t want to hurt my feelings.”

I shook my head, lost for words.

“If it makes you feel better, the man who donated it asked that it go to a skilled musician. Someone who was worthy of it,” she added softly.

Are you worthy of her? Are you worthy of her like this?

My throat thickened.

I slanted a glance at Lucky. “I’m going to hug your girl, Luck.”

Minty handed the case to Lucky and opened her arms.

Soft and sweet, she gently wrapped her arms around my back.

I knew exactly how long it had been, to the very day, since I’d last had this.

Sweet Tooth

Maggie

Before Corwin rolled out of bed, I was already dressed and out the door. I loved early mornings when the rest of the world was still half asleep. Stepping off the curb in my serviceable running shoes and certified mom-jeans, I zipped my fleece hoody up to my throat and jogged across the street.

I’d forgotten how quickly summer succumbed to fall up here in Moose Lake. I knew what Moose Lake was like, but being away for more than ten years did funny things to my memory.

It wasn’t until I was hit with the smell of fir trees in the air, the brisk touch of the wind on my face, and the sight of sun-burnished leaves raining to the ground that I truly remembered how sweet and pure and good it was.

And most of it was good.

But the bad was so sharp it cut my heart out of my chest.

You and me, Mags. You and me against the world.

Shaking off the past, I refocused on my goal to hit Jenny’s bakery, Buns and Biscuits, before they ran out of Corwin’s favorite cinnamon buns dripping with cream-cheese icing.

With this being his first week back at school, he’d missed out on his morning cinnamon bun fix.

I was quite proud of myself for being able to go in there and talk to Jenny after everything that happened. There would never come a time we could be friends again, but Moose Lake was a small town.

She needed the support.

And forgiveness was practically a surcharge to living peacefully.

Besides, there was no denying Corwin those cinnamon buns.

Cream-cheese iced cinnamon buns, music, and a love for dogs that bordered on the insane, it amazed me how many little things he shared with the father he’d never met.

I often wondered if I should have tried harder to contact him, if I should have given him a few years and tried again, but I rested easy at night knowing I did the best I could at the time.

And it wasn’t like he couldn’t have tracked me down.

My number was the same, and my parents still lived in Moose Lake. It wouldn’t have been that difficult.

Was I tempting fate by coming home? Maybe.

But in the two months I’d been back, not one of Baxter’s friends had confronted me about Corwin. And there was no sign of Baxter anywhere.

I could almost believe we’d never been if I didn’t pass the bittersweet markers of our shared past every time I left the house.

And, well, there was my sweet Corwin.

In any case, the man I strove to avoid at all costs was gone for good, and Mom needed me at home. With her health deteriorating over the past year, I didn’t want to be anywhere else.

Over the summer, I helped Dad find his equilibrium with their new normal and offered Mom a sounding board until she found her footing.

Finally, my sweet baby deserved to grow up surrounded by the people who loved him best.

Returning home with Corwin was the right decision.

At ten years old, it was time I told him the rest of the story about his father. I’d shared all the good things, and there was a lot of it. Over the past six months, he’d begun asking questions. Where better to answer them than here where Baxter and I grew up?

The place we became best friends and then lovers?

I rolled my lips between my teeth and bit down.

You should have tried harder.

I blew out my breath, slow and easy.

He could have found me if he wanted to.

Much like the first time I returned to Moose Lake with a teaching degree, I immediately landed a job at the local school.

Newly graduated teachers were apt to accept any posting they could get. Once they had a year or two of experience, they moved to the suburbs or the city leaving a constant revolving door of vacancies in small, northern towns.

Which was great for me since I wanted to be here.

I quickly secured a tiny apartment over a storefront less than five minutes walk to the school. Long-term, I wanted a house with a backyard for Corwin and Jeff, but our little apartment would do until I had time to look for something more permanent.

Returning to Moose Lake was a dream I never thought I’d realize. Of course, back then Baxter had figured largely in that fantasy.

I missed him, God, I missed him even after all these years. No one had ever seen me, all of me, the way he did.

He didn’t just accept the parts of me that were dark and moody and pessimistic, he wrapped himself around them.

Where everyone else looked at me and saw the good girl who toed the line, he gave me space to flex my wings.

More and more each day, I saw him in my son. After ten years without him, I had hoped my feelings might have faded.

But they hadn’t.

This train of thought was not the one to ride when I had to face Jenny Davis.

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.”

Face stricken, she nodded.

I looked away, my face flushing with guilt. Her parents messed her up as much as Baxter’s dad tried to destroy him.

Sucking in a deep breath, I squared my shoulders and faced her.

I was still angry, so angry with her for betraying me the way she did. I don’t know what compelled her to do it, but at some point, I had to leave it in the past and move on.

I sighed.

Should I try once more? See if Baxter wanted to meet his son?

Her sad eyes met mine. “From what little I’ve heard from Miller, he’s different now. Calmer. It’s not too late.” She raised her eyebrows and pursed her lips. “The past doesn’t have to dictate the future.”

I grimaced, half my brain snorting in disbelief that I was confiding in her. “He might not want anything to do with me.”

He might even despise me.

Or, unlike me, he may have never thought about me at all.

She tilted her head and smirked. “Do you really believe that?”

I crossed my arms, my thumb caressing the promise I carried on my ribs through the heavy fleece.

“Can I—” I cleared my throat.

Silly me, I thought I’d have control over the narrative.

As if Corwin’s parentage wasn’t stamped all over his freckled face.

I swallowed. “Can I think about it?”

She nodded. “Of course.”

I assessed her with wary eyes.

She huffed out a bitter laugh. “You have nothing to fear from me. I’ve long since stopped thinking I know anything. I’m not going to take that decision away from you.” She gave a nod toward the street. “Miller, though? He might think different.”

I paled as the man himself walked in, his eyes widening slightly as he took me in. Up until now, in spite of the fact Corwin had become fast friends with Miller’s oldest son, Mikey, I’d managed to avoid this meeting.

Which in a town as small as Moose Lake took some work.

Here in Buns and Biscuits, I had neither a hope nor a prayer.

Clad in worn jeans, a navy, thermal Henley, and a plaid lumberjacket that passed for a uniform up here, he was simply a slightly older, slightly thicker version of the boy who pushed me off the swing in the second grade, punched an older boy who pulled my pigtails in the sixth grade, and stole me my first beer.

After a brief pause, he let the door close behind him and opened his massive arms.

My eyes filled. We’d been the best of friends at one time. When I walked away, I walked away from everybody.

I melted into his embrace and wrapped my arms around his broad back.

He chuckled. “It’s good to have you and Cor home. He’s a great kid. Mikey loves him.”

I stilled, but he continued. “You here to stay?”

I nodded as I drew back and met the challenge in his eyes.

It was now or never.

“Seems I have some unfinished business.”

His mouth tipped up at the corner. “Glad to hear you’re going to deal with that. He’d want to know him.”

I searched his eyes. “You think so?”

His brow crinkled as he nodded shortly. The creases around his mouth deepened as he raked his hand through his thick mop of curls. “He’s changed.”

I took a deep breath and held it. “You think you might be able to help me find him?”

His eyes twinkled. “Oh, yeah. I think I might be able to do that.”

I narrowed my gaze.

He laughed and threw a heavy arm around my shoulders. “Now that the cat’s out of the bag, why don’t you take the stick out of your ass and come over and have a beer with us? My wife is dying to meet you.” His eyes sparkled. “Says she needs news from the outside.”

I laughed, remembering how mercilessly we teased Miller about dressing up to go into the city, and shook my head. “She a city-slicker?”

He snorted. “So she says. Every time I offer to take her into the city, she acts like I just asked for a divorce.”

My eyebrows shot up. It wasn’t often an outsider moved in and opted to stay. “She likes it here?”

He nodded. “Loves it.”

I smiled. “Loves you, you mean.”

He grinned widely, white teeth flashing in his beard. “The three kids she gave me seem to suggest it.”

I released a deep sigh and smiled up at him. “I’ll come over.”

“Great!” He lit up. “Give me a call. Better yet, talk to Maxine. She’s the social coordinator.”

I gave a short nod.

It was long past time.

I only hoped Baxter would want to meet Corwin as much as Corwin would want to meet him.

Sooner Rather Than Later

Maggie

One week later, closing in on dinner time Saturday afternoon, I took the bull by the horns.

The day couldn’t have been more perfect. Sun shining, birds singing, the smoky tease of autumn floating in the air reminded me there would soon be weekend hikes and bonfires, the bustle of the fall festival, and a madcap rush to prepare everything we’d need for Christmas and the winter shut-in before the snow blew in.

Corwin had been spending his free time with Mikey and today was no exception. Up until now, it had been my dad picking him up.

Today, it was me.

Having an excuse to drop in to Miller’s place unannounced, armed with a box of treats no less, relieved much of the social pressure.

There was less anticipation as well as the possibility of backing out at the last second if I chickened out.

This time, I called Jenny at Buns and Biscuits ahead of time and placed an order for cinnamon buns, triple chocolate scones, and her famous giant oatmeal raisin cookies.

And if I nervously nibbled one as I made my way over to Miller’s place to surprise Corwin and finally meet Maxine?

Nobody had to know but me.

Pausing at the foot of the path to his house, the wind’s gentle fingers in my hair, I gave myself a firm scolding. There was no reason to be nervous.

Maxine was probably a perfectly lovely woman, Miller had been my friend since before I lost my first tooth, his son and mine had become best buddies over the summer, and he had made it clear he knew Corwin was Baxter’s.

And I had an entire box of creamy, buttery, sugary addiction to grease my way.

I sucked in a deep breath and made my way up to his front door.

Marigolds lined both sides of the path, flowed like a river of fire under the living room window, and nestled in pots perched on the steps leading up to the front porch. Bright orange and yellow, they contrasted beautifully with the blue shaker siding and white trim.

I grinned. Who would have thought Miller would live in such a dollhouse?

I rang the doorbell and waited somewhat impatiently. Now that I’d made the decision, any delay only fed my nerves.

I followed up with a brisk knock.

When Miller’s wife flung it open, her entire face brightened. “Hey! You’re Cor’s mom! Come on in!”

I couldn’t help but smile back. She was the petite pixie to Miller’s burly lumberjack. I handed her the box of treats. “I brought goodies.”

Miller’s home was light and airy, boasting exposed oak beams and thick, oak trim that extended a warm and welcome invitation to come inside and stay a while.

Lifting the lid, she breathed deep. “God, I love sugar,” she stated, her voice deepening.

She held up the box. “Look, babe! A girl after my own heart!” I followed her line of vision as she spun around to speak to a slack-jawed Miller and came face-to-face with an equally astonished Baxter.

“Bax,” I gasped as my stomach dropped to my feet.

I absorbed all of him in one glance. His mess of dirty blond hair was darker than I remembered, the clipped beard framing his beautiful lips was new, but those dark eyes I saw in my dreams were exactly the same.

They moved over my face ravenously before traveling down to my feet and back up again.

I darted a glance at the back door, on the other side of which Miller’s boys played with my son.

Our son.

Miller scrubbed a rough hand over his face before meeting my accusing stare.

He offered me a crooked smile. “I did say I would help you.”

Maxine moved toward her husband. “Help her with what?”

Nodding toward Baxter, he answered, “Getting her in touch with Bax.”

My eyebrows crashed together as I wrapped my arms around my torso, my thumb finding that bittersweet memory and stroking it through my sweater.

“A bit of warning would have been nice,” I replied icily.

Seemingly regaining his equilibrium, Baxter hitched his hands on his waist and aimed a sweetly disarming smile my way, the same smile that endeared him to Miller’s mom and every other woman with half an ounce of maternal instinct. “Why do you need a warning, Mags?”

Jenny and Miller were right. He was different.

Calmer.

My greedy eyes traveled over every centimeter of his face, mapping the lines and contours I knew as well as my own, and the ones my fingers had yet to trace.

They tingled even now with yearning.

Drawn like a magnet, I took a hesitant step toward him then stopped.

He was a grown man now, comfortable in his skin.

God, his skin.

I flashed back to that first night.

His hot mouth trailing over my stomach.

His hand grasping the back of my knee and wrapping my leg around his lean hip.

His heavy thighs spreading mine wide as he slowly entered me for our first time.

My first time.

Braced on his elbows, hands cupping my face, his eyes held mine as his long body rolled against me.

His deep voice.

“Okay, baby?”

Maxine elbowed Miller sharply in the ribs and tore my mind from the past. “You could have given me a heads-up!”

“Ow,” he frowned down at her, rubbing his ribs. “It wasn’t my story to tell!”

She rolled her eyes. “How’s that working out for you right now?”

I met Baxter’s intent, curious gaze and flushed hotly.

Miller glanced up at me and offered a crooked grin. “I’ll just take the missus and give you some privacy.”

With that, he ducked. Popping his shoulder into his wife’s gut, he threw her over his shoulder.

“Oh my gosh,” she scoffed, hanging upside down. Slapping his ass, she laughed. “You are such a neanderthal.”

“You love it,” he asserted.

Pushing off his back, she lifted her chin and leveled Baxter with her gaze as Miller carted her up the short set of stairs to their bedroom. “Don’t you scare her away! I need news from the outside—”

Miller slammed the bedroom door, cutting off the rest of her words.

I couldn’t even be upset with Miller. The truth is nothing could have prepared me to see Baxter again.

I released a shuddering breath and offered Baxter a tentative smile as I nervously tucked my hair behind my ear. “Looks like he found his perfect counterpart.”

An ancient pain flashed across his face and disappeared.

I swallowed tightly and forced myself to keep my eyes on his face.

Approaching me slowly, as one would a skittish colt, he held out both of his hands.

God, he looked so good.

He’d changed so much. Bigger, thicker, more muscular, but somehow taking up less space than he used to.

Tall and strong and no longer as haunted.

My heart ached for all he suffered, all we lost.

All he missed out on with the son he never met.

The realization hit me like a soccer ball to the gut. I’d hurt him just the same as everybody else.

If I hadn’t doubted, if I hadn’t feared he would be like his father, perhaps I would have tried harder.

I unwrapped my arms and placed my trembling hands in his, inhaling sharply as my heart stuttered to a stop at the first touch of his calloused fingertips.

Nothing had ever felt so good, so sweet, or so right as Baxter’s skin against mine. With everything that had changed in all the years we’d been apart, that truth remained.

He stared down at me, face grim, gaze locked on mine.

I blinked up at him. “Bax,” I whispered, searching his eyes. “You look so good. How have you been?”

He dipped his chin to meet my eyes, those dark pools pulling me in as they always had. “I’m good, Mags.” He offered a small smile. “Better now.”

“Are you married?” I blurted, my fingers clinging tighter to his.

What am I thinking?

His brow puckered. “No. You?”

I shook my head.

One smile and all my self-preservation flies out the window?

His frown deepened. “Anybody serious?”

I shook my head harder. “You?”

“No.” His brow relaxed, and his lips quirked to the side. “So, no crazy woman will try to yank your hair out, and no plaid-wrapped studmuffin will threaten to beat me up if I take you out for coffee.”

I’m just going to forget the fact he betrayed me and refused to pick up my calls?

I tugged my hands, but he held fast. “It’s just coffee, Mags.”

My blood pressure shot through the roof as the back door opened.

“I’ll ask my mom!” Corwin hollered, then began to laugh. “Jeff! Get back here!”

Corwin’s voice jerked my attention away from the very real threat looming over my hard-earned tranquility.

Our splash-painted ball of fluff ran through the kitchen into the family room, his little paws skidding across the hardwood.

“Jeff?” Baxter whispered incredulously, his grip tightening almost painfully as he stared at our dog.

I winced.

When Corwin jogged in, face wreathed with smiles, Baxter dropped my hands like they were on fire.

Staggering two steps back, he whispered, “Oh my God.”

The blood drained from his face and left his dark eyes standing out in stark relief.

Sliding his fractured gaze to mine, he raised his eyebrows. “Is he…”

I nodded, icy fear unfurling in my stomach. Was it possible he didn’t know? Didn’t get my messages?

Impossible.

Laughing, Corwin dropped to his knees on the floor, his multi-coloured perma-puppy wiggling around on her back as Cor took up the invitation to scratch her tummy.

Baxter’s dark eyes flashed with betrayal.

His voice shook. “We’ll be having that coffee, Maggie.”

I nodded, swallowing tightly.

What is happening?

“Sooner rather than later,” he warned.

Turning to face our son, he offered a small, deceptively calm, smile. His voice warbled once before evening out. “That’s a good-looking pup you’ve got there.”

Corwin looked up and smiled widely. “Thanks! Her name is Jeff.”

“Her?”

He shrugged. “Mom picked it. I wanted to call her bubbles, but Mom wanted Jeff.”

“It’s a great name,” he rasped. “I’m Baxter. I’ve known your mom forever. I haven’t seen her for a long time, and I didn’t know she had a child. It’s great to meet you.”

My face flushed with a heady cocktail of fury and remorse.

How could he not have known?

I realized what he was doing, and I didn’t blame him. If I’d just met my child for the first time at the tender age of ten, the last thing I’d want him to think was that I abandoned him.

My chest ached. Baxter was ten when his own mother left him with his bastard of a father. The parallels were painful and impossible to ignore.

Corwin, God bless him, stepped right up and extended his hand to shake his father’s hand. “Nice to meet you, sir. My name is Corwin.”

I swallowed my grief as they touched for the first time, Baxter’s eyes wide with wonder.

You should have followed up.

You should have tracked him down.

You should have given him a second chance. A third chance. A fourth.

Corwin’s startled gaze moved to meet mine when Baxter didn’t immediately let him go.

I cleared my throat. “Cor, Baxter is super important to me. He was my best friend growing up, the best friend I’ve ever had.”

At the sound of my voice, Baxter released him.

A strangled sound from the upstairs hallway caught our attention. Miller stood with his arms around Maxine who held her hand over her mouth.

Baxter jerked his chin up at Miller, then turned his face away. “I’ve got a few things to do, Mills. I’ll be back later.”

Chin dipping toward the son he obviously didn’t know existed, he rasped, “I’m really happy to meet you, Corwin.”

His lips tightened as he slanted me a hurt glance and a brief nod. “Mags.”

With that, he left.

And just as he’d done over a decade before, he didn’t look back.