Page 50 of Hold Me Before You Go

The dark figure drew closer, the snow crunching under its weight as my eyes finally closed.

“Ma’am. Hey, look at me,” a deep voice rumbled.

With every last ounce of strength I could muster, I forced my eyes open.

It was a man. A dark man. He reminded me of my bounty hunter, my Grayson.

The only difference was this man had a cowboy hat on.

A sound came from my throat, but I didn’t know if it was a word.

Then, everything faded away, and I was flying.

Chapter Twelve

Carrie

“We have to get her to a doctor! We have to call someone!” a pretty, raspy voice yelled out in a panic.

“Darlin’, the cell towers are down. The power was knocked out last night,” a deep voice replied.

I felt something warm touch my feet, a sting following it. I winced and mumbled something.

“Don’t,” the deep voice clipped.

“I have to check for frostbite, Mase,” another deep voice returned.

“You’ll hurt her,” the raspy voice said softly.

My eyelids fluttered open, and I was staring at a ceiling made of logs.

“Leave her be,” a dark, jagged voice commanded. That voice was different from the others, sounding further away than the rest.

Slowly, I turned my head, following the warmth and light coming from my right to find a rustic fireplace, orange and yellow flames dancing within it. I was warm—comfortable. I moved my arms and felt something heavy on top of me. I sat up slowly, groaning, and found a thick wool blanket with a blue and red pattern covering me. As it fell from the top half of my body, something moved on my left.

I snapped my head in that direction, jerking back at the sight ofpeople.

“It’s alright,” the owner of the raspy voice, a woman around my age with long, wild red curls, said. She was sitting closest to me, on her knees, two feet of floor between us. “Would you like to be moved to the couch?” she asked, putting her hand on the piece of furniture beside her.

I shook my head quickly. I didn’t want to be touched or moved.

I wanted to know where the hell I was.

“What’s your name?” My eyes left the woman’s, trailing up to the man with dirty blond hair standing behind her. His jaw was covered in scuff, and he was wearing a thick flannel, dirty jeans, and boots. My brows furrowed as I studied him.

He looked so familiar.

Where had I seen him before?

We stared at each other for some time, and eventually, his brows came together, too.

Did he recognize me, like I recognized him? Did we know each other?

That didn’t make any sense, and before I could muster up the courage to ask who he was, the woman on the floor in front of him interrupted.

“Mason,” the woman in front of him said, gently warning him.

He blinked and looked down at her, his features softening. He looked back at me for a moment. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.” It sounded like he wanted to say more, but he left it at that, looking down at the redhead once more.

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