Page 104 of Ten Mountain Men

“Do we really need to put more stuff in the living room?” I hedge. “It’s gonna be suppertime and—”

“We’ll just have to be fast,” she says. “Worse comes to worse, we’ll have to take some blankets outside and make supper a picnic.”

I love that idea, but right now, the most important thing is distracting her from these boxes, or rather, what’s behind them.

“Ash says it’s gonna rain, so I don’t think—”

She looks at me and cocks that head, her hand on her hip. “Ash was wrong about the snow and he’s gonna be wrong about the rain. Boxes, please.”

Goldie points to the boxes, then toward the living room, and that look in her eyes is so determined I know there’s no point in arguing.

I move quickly, grabbing the nearest box and hefting it into my arms, just to keep my hands busy. Buck’s already got one too.

As we clear the boxes, something I haven’t laid eyes on in a long time is revealed—a door. Just a regular ol’ door, but to me, it’s like it’s got a spotlight shining down on it. We put the boxes in front of it for a reason. None of us had spoken it out loud, but we did.

Goldie notices it right away, of course. “What’s that?”

I can’t help the tightening in my chest as she steps closer to the door. “Uh, it’s nothin’, really. Just a closet. Empty. Nothing to go through in there.”

“Actually—” Buck begins, and I cringe with my whole body, realizing the stupid-ass mistake I just made. In my haste to keep her from feeling the need to go into the “closet,” I gave her the reason to do just the opposite.

“An empty closet?” Goldie’s brows shoot up, her excitement palpable. “Well, if it’s an empty closet, why the hell aren’t we using it for your clothes? This cabin’s drowning in clutter, and you guys have a whole closet just sitting there? Let’s get some stuff hung up.”

I can feel Buck’s gaze on me, but I can’t meet his eyes. Instead, I keep my focus on the box in my hands, setting it down with maybe a little more force than necessary.

Goldie’s already reaching for the door handle. “Let’s see what we’re working with here.”

Panic flares in my chest. “No!” I shout out before I can stop myself, my voice booming louder than I intended. Goldie looks at me, confused, hurt, maybe a little frightened by my outburst.

I clear my throat, trying to pull it together. “I mean…it’s, uh, it’s a mess in there. Nothin’ worth seein’, trust me. We’ve got better things to focus on right now. Like gettin’ all those books in the boxes sorted.”

“Yeah,” Buck says. “And we need to start making plans for the drawers.”

Goldie’s not buying it. Her eyes narrow as she looks between me and the door. “What aren’t you two telling me?”

I swallow hard, feeling the weight of her gaze on me. Damn it, damn it, damn it. Luke is going to lose his shit. No one’s going to be that happy about it, but Luke is going to lose his shit.

“It’s just…nothin’ special, okay? Just some old junk we don’t need anymore.” I try to shrug it off, but I know she’s not convinced.

I watch as Goldie’s eyes flick between me and the door, her brows furrowing in that way that makes her look even more determined. Damn it, I can see the wheels turning in her head, and I know there’s no stopping her now.

“If it’s just junk,” she says slowly, crossing her arms over her chest, “then why did you say it’s empty? Because you don’t want to bother clearing it out? Because we should. Make room for the stuff you do need. Like, I don’t know…more bookshelves?”

Before I can stop her, she marches over to the door and grabs the handle. I tense, my heart kicking up a notch. Buck’s standing beside me, watching with wide eyes.

The door creaks open, and Goldie freezes, staring into the space beyond. She steps backward, her fingers gripping the edge of the doorframe, and peers back at us with a look of pure confusion.

“Wait…this isn’t a closet,” she says, her voice almost a whisper.

She takes a step into the room, and Buck and I follow her, the silence hanging heavy between us. The space is dimly lit, the air stale like it hasn’t been touched in years.

It’s not a closet at all. It’s another bedroom.

The bed’s still made, covered in an old quilt. A nightstand sits next to it, cluttered with odds and ends—an old clock that no longer ticks, a lamp that hasn’t been turned on in ages. Shelves line the walls, but instead of books, they’re filled with trinkets and old photographs. It’s like walking into a time capsule.

Goldie’s confusion deepens as she steps further inside, glancing around the room. “What…what is this?” she asks, her voice soft, almost like she’s afraid of disturbing whatever memories linger here, of waking slumbering ghosts.

Buck glances at me, then back at Goldie.

---