Page 11 of Haunted By the Mountain Man
The command in his voice shouldn't have made my stomach flip. Shouldn't have made me wet. But it did.
"Understood," I managed.
"Good girl."
The words were a caress and a claim all at once, and from the dark satisfaction that flashed across his face, he knew exactly what effect they had on me.
I followed Shane down the lodge's main corridor. Shane pointed out weak floorboards, exposed nails, sections where the ceiling looked ready to collapse. His protective vigilance should have felt overbearing. Instead, it made me feel safe. Cherished.
"The old pool area is in here," he said, pushing open a set of double doors. "Indoor pool, sauna, hot tubs. All empty now, but the tile work is still intact. Should give you good visuals."
The pool room was stunning in its decay. Art deco tile covered the walls in geometric patterns, now cracked and water-stained. The empty pool itself was a concrete cavern filled with leaves and debris. Late morning light filtered through broken skylights, creating dramatic shadows.
"This is perfect," I breathed, already composing shots in my mind. "The light, the shadows—my subscribers are going to love this."
I adjusted the settings of my camera as I moved around the space. Shane watched from the doorway, arms crossed, his massive frame blocking the only exit.
"You really love this," he observed. "Exploring abandoned places."
"I do." I framed a shot of the empty pool, the way shadows pooled at the bottom like dark water. "There's something honest about decay. No pretense. No hiding what it is."
"Is that what you're running from? Pretense?"
The question caught me off guard. I lowered my camera, turning to face him. "What makes you think I'm running?"
"Because I recognize it." He moved into the room, his footsteps echoing off tile. "The way you travel alone, never staying anywhere long. The online persona that's probably nothing like the real you."
"Maybe I just like my job."
"Maybe." He was getting closer, eating up the distance between us with long strides. "Or maybe you're just as broken as the places you explore. Just as abandoned."
The words hit deeper than they should have. "That's not nice."
"Your grandmother," he said, and I froze. "You mentioned she had Alzheimer's. But it's more than that, isn't it? You weren't just helping care for her. You lost her." He was right in front of me now, close enough to touch. "You're not just documenting abandoned places. You're trying to make peace with loss itself."
"You don't know anything about me," I said, but my voice lacked conviction.
"Don't I?" His hand came up to cup my face, thumb stroking my cheekbone. "I know you're running from something that hurt you. I know you use your camera as a shield, your online persona as armor. I know you're just as lonely as I am, even if you pretend otherwise."
I hadn’t been prepared for this, prepared for him to be both sexy and caring. Tears stung my eyes. "Shane—"
"Tell me about her," his voice gentled. "Your grandmother."
"She raised me,” I said brokenly. "My parents weren't around. They had other things to do. So Gran took me in whenI was eight. She was everything—my mom, my best friend, my whole world."
Shane's other hand came up, framing my face with both his huge palms. "And the Alzheimer's took her from you slowly."
"For three years, I watched her disappear. Watched her forget my name, forget who I was, forget everything we'd shared together." The tears spilled over. "By the end, she thought I was her sister who'd died in 1962. And I played along. Pretended to be someone else because it made her happy. But it killed me inside."
"Raven." He wiped my tears away with his thumbs, and the gentleness from such a large, dangerous man made me cry harder. "You gave her comfort. That's not nothing."
"But I lost her years before she actually died. And I keep thinking if I document enough abandoned places, if I tell enough forgotten stories, maybe I can make up for all the stories she forgot. All the memories that disappeared with her."
"That's why you're so good with Walt," Shane said. "You've been here before. You know how to navigate this world."
"I wish to hell I didn’t," I said. "I hate watching someone I care about slip away into a past that doesn't exist anymore. But I'm good at it because I had years of practice."
"I'm sorry." His forehead came down to rest against mine. "I'm sorry you had to go through that. I'm sorry you're going through it again with Walt."
