Page 77 of Stay for Me

As I stepped onto the property, the wind around me shifted, and a chill crawled up my spine. I looked over my shoulder, my eyes drifting to the tops of the tall, magnificent pine trees across the narrow road. As the wind continued to hit me, sending my ponytail in every direction but down, I looked back to the forest in front of me, studying the tree line. The tops flowed back and forth in time with the wind, the branches moving in harmony. The chill on my back slithered up my neck and over my shoulders.

In the distance, I heard a cry of a hawk, and I looked to my right, seeing it soar towards me, the sun shining down on its beautiful wings. It flew over me, unbothered by my presence on before disappearing around the bend.

A memory tugged at me then, one from years ago. It was only of the only nights I’d dared to eat dinner in the bunkhouse—with the twins cooking. As usual, they’d been bickering, providing entertainment for Beau, Jigs, and me while we waited on Denver and Caleb to come down. That night, Mags opted out of dinner, choosing to stay in the barn and double check all the work the twins had done, apparently.

After a while, the twins stopped arguing and asked Jigs if something was true…

“Come on, old man,” Lance said, looking towards the front door, as if he didn’t want Denver to walk in on this conversation. “You can tell us.”

Jigs’ mustache twitched, his shoulders shaking with laughter. “Tell you what? That your cooking is worse than Beau’s?”

I looked up from the work I had to take home with me that night, laughing. “What? Jigs, you didn’t teach Beau how to cook?”

“Don’t listen to Pop, Diana,” Beau drawled from the arm chair in the corner. “We all know I’m the best cook here.”

Jigs turned in his seat, plucking his toothpick from his lips and pointing at his son with it. “I taught you many things, son, but I never taught you how to lie.”

“That’s not what we’re talking about,” Lawson grumbled, stirring something in the cast iron skillet.

I scrunched my nose, studying how the…substance started bubbling for a moment.

“Then what the hell are you talkin’ about? Because I’m not a damn mind reader,” Jigs said as I looked back down, re-reading the last paragraph, dragging my pen across each line.

I was dead set on tuning them out in order to finish reading through this contract before dinner was served, but Lance’s question had my head snapping right back up.

“Is this ranch haunted?”

Beau snorted, and my wide eyes shot over to him. He gave me a look, shaking his head. His father, the person here who’d been at Hallow Ranch the longest, said nothing. Lance and his brother shared a look, and before anyone else could utter a word, the bunkhouse door swung open.

Mags, dressed in all black as usual, stepped in, his head down, the brim of his cowboy hat concealing his face. Behind him, in the distance, lightning lit up the dark sky and thunder rolled.

“Bet Mags knows,” Lance muttered.

The cowboy lifted his head then, his dark eyes landing directly on me, and, like always, my breath caught. His dark pools studied me, tested me, beckoned me to come to him, to drown in him. He said nothing when he broke our gaze and walked back to his bunk. Goosebumps spread across my arms, and I shivered.

Lawson caught it and jerked his chin in my direction. “Sure has Diana spooked.”

All eyes were on me then. “I’m cold, that’s all,” I lied.

“Uh huh, sure,” Lance drawled, but all I could focus on were Mags’ movements behind me. I regretted picking this seat at the table now. I hadn’t seen him in months, despite me coming here every other week to deal with Caleb’s mother.

Jigs shook his head, running his hand through his white hair. “What brought this on, boys?”

Then, the twins dove in and explained about the “weird” things they’d seen on the ranch and in the buildings. About a minute in, I looked down, trying to focus on my work as my heart thundered in my ears, my body painfully aware of Mags’ proximity. A minute or two later, Beau started snoring in the arm chair.

With Beau sleeping, the twins yapping to Jigs, and Jigs trying to pay attention to said yapping, no one in the bunkhouse saw what happened next.

I felt heat at my back, Mags’ familiar scent all around me know. Slowly, I twisted my neck, looking up at him as he wrapped an blue and cream afghan around my shoulders. A lump grew in my throat. “What—”

“Should warm up in a minute,” he said, his jagged voice the softest I’d ever heard it, before moving towards the door. I watched every second, clutching the afghan around me, my heart ready to follow him wherever he was going, logic be damned.

“Mags! Before you go, just tell us what you think,” Lawson called out to his back.

Mags, hand on the doorknob, looked over his shoulder, his eyes on me. “Of course, Hallow Ranch is fuckin’ haunted.”

Then he was gone, taking my heart with him.

Iblinked,mentallyshakingoff one of the many memories of Mags as well as the chill.

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