Page 60 of Hold Me Before You Go

“O-okay,” I said, stumbling over the word.

Mags, being the straight shooter, no bullshit type of man I’d expected him to be, hit me with it immediately. “You seeing ghosts in my cabin?” he asked.

I flinched, jerking back, my heart accelerating, the beats erratic. “What did you just say to me?” I whispered.

“Just now, you looked scared shitless, and you couldn’t stop staring at that corner,” he explained, pointing to the place where Ghost Robert once stood—

He was gone.

“I called your name four times, Carrie,” Mags said softly, his words making me focus on him.

“You did?”

He nodded.

I fumbled my hands together in my lap, feeling foolish. “I don’t—I don’t know what that was. I just had a nightmare,” I admitted, my voice cracking.

“Regardless of what you saw, Carrie, you need to know you’rehereat Hallow Ranch. You’re safehere. You’re protectedhere. Nothing is going to happen to you.” he promised me fiercely.

My eyes welled with tears. “Thank you.”

The cowboy said nothing, rising to his full height and walking back into the kitchen.

“I’m not crazy,” I called out to his back. He needed to know that. I wasn’t crazy. I wasn’t crazy. I just…I’d been through a lot.I was tired, running on fumes, and I almost died today—multiple times.

He stopped, his shoulders stiffening. Then, he looked over his shoulder at me. “Everyone has ghosts, Carrie. That doesn’t make you crazy.”

I opened and shut my mouth multiple times, trying to think of something else to say before he returned with his food and drink. He took his seat in the armchair across from me, utensils in hand.

“How far did you run?” he asked, moving on to the next conversation.

My chest deflated, and I felt my hands shaking. “I-I’m sorry?” I stammered, pulling my eyes away from the fireplace to look at Mags.

He stared at me for a few seconds, each one seeming longer than the last. “When you escaped. How far did you run? Do you know?”

I looked at the fire. “Maybe two miles or so.”

“Are your feet burning? Tingling? Anything like that?” he questioned softly.

I shook my head. “No, the bottoms just ache. Do you—is that a symptom of frostbite?” I asked, chewing on the inside of my cheek.

Mags took a bite of green beans, and my eyes dropped to my plate, my mouth salivating at the sight of a small steak, bright green beans, and roasted potatoes.

Food.

A meal.

I picked up my fork, my concern about my feet and the ghost of my dead ex-husband forgotten as I stabbed a small potato, bringing it to my mouth. A sound left me as I chewed, a spicy, buttery flavor exploding on my tongue. “Oh my God,” I rasped, leaning forward to cut a piece of steak and shoving that in.

Rich flavor filled my mouth, and suddenly, I couldn’t stop eating.

Everything faded away, and the only thing that mattered to me was refueling my body. The hunger pains faded quickly, but I wanted more, just in case I had to go without again.

When I was about to take another bite of green beans, Mags’ jagged voice cut in. “Carrie,” he said softly. “Slow down. You eat too quickly, your body will reject it.”

I looked up to him, eyes widening. I set the fork down and grabbed the napkin. “I-I’m so sorry,” I whispered, heat rising in my cheeks as I wiped my mouth.

Geez, how embarrassing was that?

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