Chapter Fourteen
Carrie
“Mags?” I called from my spot on the couch, looking at him. He was standing in front of one of the windows, staring out into the blizzard, the wind howling around us.
Denver, Mason, and Harmony had just left a few minutes ago.
Apparently, everyone here knew who Grayson was, not just Mags.
When my identity was out in the open, Denver had bitten off a curse, a new sense of rage oozing from him. I could feel it in the air, and I knew right then that Denver Langston wasn’t a man to mess with. Mason looked like he wanted to kill something, and when I looked over to Harmony, she dropped down to her knees in front of me with tears in her eyes and told me this wasn’t how we were supposed to meet.
I was shocked that they knew who I was, even more so when they mentioned Astoria.
Grayson had planned on taking me here, to Hallow Ranch, this summer to meet Mags and everyone. He and Mags had been making plans since Grayson came back to Astoria. At this news, I felt warm all over and, in that moment, I missed Grayson more than I ever had.
When I asked them how long I’d been gone, all four of them stared at me wide-eyed, looks of horror painted on Mason and Harmony’s faces and looks of fury on Denver and Mags.
I’d been gone for four days, now almost five.
To be quite honest, it felt like two weeks.
Then, Denver began drilling me with questions, Mason following suit all while Mags remained silent, staring at me like I’d grown a second head. Maybe I wasn’t what he was expecting, or maybe he was shocked his best friend’s lover had been kidnapped and then escaped.
Who knows?
Mags was very, very hard to read, and on the outside, he looked scarier than Grayson. But still, I trusted him. I trusted him more than anyone else on Hallow Ranch because I knew what he’d done for Grayson. I knew he saved my lover’s life years ago, and for that, I would always trust him.
Once he snapped out of his surprise, he told Mason and Denver to stand down, ordering Denver to go back up to the “house” and the couple to continue “settling in” at their new place.
That was fifteen minutes ago, and before they left, Harmony helped me onto the couch. I was exhausted, my entire body sore. Now, the cowboy and I were alone, the only sound in the cabin the cracking of firewood.
“Mags?” I called out again, softer this time. I watched his profile, taking in his tanned skin, sharp eyes, and black scruff. I watched his chest slowly rise and fall as he stared out into the endless white abyss.
Grayson told me Mags was a man of few words, having been that way since he got out of the Marines over a decade ago. He told me he and Mags were the same age, that he hadn’t left Hallow Ranch since he got here. That was almost a decade ago, and Mags hadn’t seen or interacted with the general public since. Grayson had also told me Hallow Ranch healed Mags, and he was happy now.
However, I was here, sitting four feet away from the man, and there was one thing to be certain.
Mags was far from healed.
He was in anguish.
Behind those dark eyes was a tortured, fractured soul.
A lump gathered in my throat, and I attempted to clear it with a small cough.
Finally, he looked over to me, and I froze, my lips parting as I saw the shadow of fury over his rugged face.
“Are you alright?” he asked, his jagged voice cutting through the warm, cozy cabin like a knife.
I blinked. “Denver asked that same question, and you told him—”
He came closer. “Know what I said to him, but that was before you told us who you were. Now that I know, you need to know this: Grayson is the closest thing I will probably ever have to a fucking brother.”
I closed my mouth, my heart pounding.
Mags came to stand behind the chair opposite the couch, bracing his strong hands on the back of it. “Do you understand what that means, Carrie?” he asked, his voice filled with something I couldn’t decipher, but it gutted me all the same. The lump in my throat reformed as a muscle ticked in his cheek, a flash of emotion appearing in his dark eyes. When I said nothing, he all but growled, “That means you’re fucking important to me. That means you aren’t just some fucking stranger I spotted on a trail camera and brought back here. That means I need to fucking know if you’re alright. ”
“Mags, I—”
“Answer me, God dammit!” he clipped, his voice hard, bouncing off the log walls of the cabin, the light of the fire highlighting the sharp edges of him.
He needed to know if I was okay. He needed to know because of his connection to Grayson.
I flinched and nodded quickly, not wanting to piss him off further. “I—I’m alright, Mags. I promise, I’m okay.”
His chest heaved, his hair falling over his shoulders as he stared at me, his face twisted in anguish. “Fucking Christ,” he pushed out, his eyes hard as they remained on my face, memorizing me.
After a moment, his shoulders sagged, and he bent his head and took his hat off. He rose up to his full height and ran a hand through his long, thick black hair before shaking his head, muttering something I couldn’t hear. When he looked at me again, regret and shame glimmered in his dark eyes. “I’m sorry,” he murmured roughly. “I didn’t mean to—I just—” He cut himself off and looked at the fire. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”
I said nothing, waiting for him to say more.
He didn’t scare me. Mags was a good man, I knew. He wouldn’t hurt me, but I couldn’t stop him from lashing out. Underneath all that tanned skin, dark hair, and handsome features was endless pain, and most of all, anger. He was angry, and me being here must’ve triggered something.
We were connected by a powerful link.
That link was Grayson, and I only knew half of the horrors he’d been through.
Mags knew all of them.
“Your face is bruised,” he noted quietly as those dark eyes lingered on my cheek. “Your face is bruised, your bottom lip is cut, you have bruises on your wrists, and you’re Grayson’s woman—his sunshine.”
My bottom lip began to tremble, but he didn’t notice.
Grayson told Mags I was his sunshine?
“You’re Grayson’s light, Carrie,” he said, finally looking in my eyes.
This man was killing me. “I’ve been through worse,” I assured him, my voice thick.
Did he know about my past? About the hell I’d endured?
“When he gets here, he’s going to see those cuts and bruises and lose his ever-loving mind,” he added gruffly, shaking his head as he crossed his arms, his hat still in hand. “You need to be prepared for that.”
My eyes widened. “When he gets here? Grayson is—he’s going to come here?” I asked, my voice cracking as hope bloomed in my chest.
Mags’ head cocked to the side as his brows came together, giving me a puzzling look. “What do you mean? Did you think I was going to kick you out? Send you into the frozen hell outside?” he asked.
I opened my mouth and then closed it. “N-no? I just figured you and Denver would find a way to get me home as soon as possible.”
He stared at me.
I looked away from him for a second, reading his silence like a billboard. “That was a stupid assumption, wasn’t it?” I whispered.
Mags nodded once as a muscle jumped in his cheek.
“Right,” I mumbled, looking at my lap and biting the inside of my cheek.
I heard the wood floorboards creak, and then he grunted, “I’m going to make some grub. Stay put and get warm. After that, I’ll get some clothes for you from the main house, and then you can shower.”
When I looked up again, I saw his hat and coat on the hooks by the door, and he was in the kitchen, his back to me, lighting the gas stove.
I guess that conversation was done.
There were so many more questions I wanted to ask him, but I kept my mouth shut. Both of us remained silent as he cooked while I stared at the fire, my body finally able to relax as I laid my head back against the armrest. I was safe here. I didn’t have to constantly be on guard.
Before I knew it, I was drifting off to sleep…
“You don’t understand. You could never understand,” Robert roared from the other side of the bedroom door as I made my way towards it slowly, flinching at the harshness of his voice.
I clutched my bag to my side as I listened. I’d been looking for him everywhere since I’d gotten home from having lunch with my father. A lunch I didn’t want to go to, but Robert insisted that during election season, it would be good for me to be seen out with my father, to paint him as a family man.
That was the last thing my father was.
I’d spent the duration of the meal avoiding looking at my plate and taking a small bite every two minutes on the dot, just like I was instructed to do from a very early age. If I looked at the food, I would want more of it. Of course, that was because Robert didn’t make me my breakfast this morning. He’d seemed erratic, on edge, having gotten home from work at almost one in the morning last night.
So, I went to lunch with my father like a good daughter and a good wife, thinking it would put Robert in a better mood.
When I got home, I figured he would be in his office or on the couch.
He wasn’t.
“She could never understand. I had to make her understand, but you…you will never understand,” he barked out. “No, don’t fucking tell me what I can and cannot do!”
He must be on the phone.
“Robert?” I called, putting my hand on the doorknob and twisting it. The door swung open, and I gasped at the sight of him.
He was shirtless, wearing his navy slacks and socks, his belt undone. His smooth chest and small abs were…stained.
My eyes lingered on the dark pink as my mind tried to form a coherent thought. Robert finally noticed me, and his eyes widened just a fraction before his entire face morphed, anger painting it. “What are you doing here?” he growled.
I looked down to his tainted skin. “What is that? Is that blood?” I whispered, my eyes bouncing from his chest to his eyes.
Was that blood?
He looked down to his chest, pulling the cell phone away from his ear. “Carrie, I don’t have time for this. Go downstairs,” he ordered, his voice like ice.
I was tired of the secrets. I was tired of the man I married not wanting to spend any time with me, hiding from me since we were declared husband and wife six months ago.
“No, I want you to tell me what that is,” I demanded. “I’m your wife, and you—”
He lunged for me then, the phone flying to the side as he bared his teeth. He wrapped his hands around my throat, shoving me against the wall as I flailed my arms. I tried to gasp for air, but he pulled me away from the wall and slammed me back, my head cracking against it. Black spots dotted my vision, and my airway was cut off. My head began to spin as he did it again, his hands squeezing the life out of me.
“You have got to stop being so fucking nosy,” he growled, his eyes wild. “All you have to do is play your fucking part, Carrie. Your father told me you would be good for my image, that having you by my side would be a breeze. Clearly, he fucking lied.”
My husband looked…unhinged. I slapped my hands against his arms, digging my nails into his skin, but nothing helped.
“You’re going to ruin everything, you stupid bitch,” he seethed as I choked, looking up to the ceiling. My body was trapped between the wall and his. There was nowhere for me to go.
This was it. This was the end.
Everything went black.
“Carrie?”
No, he was choking me. He was going to kill me.
“Hey, Carrie, wake up. I have to get some food in you.”
Slowly, I opened my eyes to find Mags standing over me, a plate in one hand, a fresh glass of water in the other. I blinked, looking around the cabin. I wasn’t in my old house. It was dark outside. I was in Mags’ cabin. I wasn’t in St. Louis. I wasn’t with Robert. He wasn’t choking me.
Confusion washed over me then as a small sense of fear coiled around my neck.
When my eyes met Mags’ again, he jerked his chin to the coffee table in front of the couch. “Sit up so you can eat, yeah?” he gently ordered as I brought my hand to the front of my neck, still feeling Robert’s hands around it. I could still see the rage in his eyes and hear the venom in his voice as his hands just kept squeezing.
Was that just a dream or a memory?
“Carrie?”
Shaking my head, I blinked again and looked up to Mags. “Yeah, sorry.”
He said nothing as he watched me push myself up, wincing through the pain.
“Jesus, I’m so sore,” I mumbled, throwing my legs over the side of the couch as Mags set the food down along with a napkin and utensils. I blinked, looking up to thank Mags, but suddenly, a ghost of Robert was standing by the fire, shirtless and covered in blood.
I froze, eyes widening, but I couldn’t say anything. It was as if my voice was stolen from me. Ghost Robert’s hair was messy, his eyes red and dilated, a hate-filled snarl painted across his face. My eyes dropped to his chest, noticing the same blood stain on it that I’d seen in the dream, his arms covered in actual blood, droplets dripping from his fingers.
But it hadn’t been a dream, had it? That was my life—another memory from the past rising to the surface.
You fucking bitch.
You ruined everything for me.
My eyes rose from the bloody hands to find Ghost Robert’s eyes and I watched in horror as he took a step away from the fireplace, slowly getting closer and closer to me. I scooted my body further up the couch, getting as close to the opposite end of it as possible.
He was going to try and kill me again.
That was why he was here. Brandon couldn’t finish the job, so Robert was back from the dead to do it instead. I was suddenly missing Brandon’s gun pointed in my face. I’d take that over this, anything but this…
A small whimper came from me then, and Mags was in front of me, blocking my view of Ghost Robert.
“Carrie?”
I swallowed the knives in my throat and carefully looked up to Mags’ face. His thick, black brows were furrowed in concern, his lips thin. “What’s wrong?” he asked, looking over his shoulder. It felt like hours had passed by the time he looked back to me again, this time with a completely different look in his eyes. Slowly, he got down onto his haunches in front of me. “Carrie, I need you to be really honest with me right now, okay?”
“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’re here at Hallow Ranch. You’re safe here . You’re protected here . 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?
His jaw ticked. “Don’t apologize for being hungry. Seeing you eat is a good thing. I’d be worried if you didn’t. You can have as much as you want, but my guess is, those bastards who took you didn’t feed you, correct?”
I nodded slowly.
He returned the nod. “You have to ease your body out of starvation.”
Starvation.
The word slammed into me like an oncoming train, blaring its horn, telling me to move. But I couldn’t. The tears were back now, and on instinct, I put my hand against my soft mid-section, needing to make sure it was still there, that I was still me, not the past version of myself.
The abused Carrie.
The used Carrie.
The starved Carrie.
“You sound like you know what starvation feels like,” I pushed out thickly before I could stop myself, a single tear falling onto my cheek now.
His eyes held mine for a while.
When he answered, it was gentle, almost kind. “I do, and I know that you do too.”
I took a deep breath. “Did he tell you everything about me?”
Mags shook his head. “No, he didn’t. I only know about the food abuse, sweetheart.”
I dropped my head, looking down to my lap as another tear fell, falling and landing on the top of my hand. I watched as the tear shined, the light of the fire bouncing off it. “You know, I didn’t realize they hadn’t given me any food until I’d found that bag by the fence,” I admitted, staring at the now-golden tear.
He said nothing.
“Your body never forgets,” I whispered, more to myself than to him.
Silence stretched between us, and when I finally had the courage to look at him again, my chest caved in. He’d set his plate down, leaning forward, resting his arms on his knees, studying me with a soft expression. “Your body never forgets,” he murmured.
He’d heard me.
I nodded, more tears falling now as I pressed my lips together.
“I really want Grayson now, please,” I rasped.
Mags nodded. “Denver is working with Jigs to get the radio working. Once they can get signal, we can get a message out to Red Snake. They’re in Denver.”
“And where are we?” I asked.
“Outside of Hayden. He’s only three hours away, Carrie.”
I crumbled then. There was nothing I could do to stop it. I buried my head in my hands as a wretched sob left me, shaking my entire body. Grayson was three hours away.
Three.
Hours.
Away.
My choked sobs filled Mags’ cabin, and I muffled out an apology. “I’m so sorry. I’m sorry, Mags. I’ve just—I thought—”
“Been in captivity before, Carrie. You don’t need to explain yourself to me,” he said.
My head snapped up, and through my tears I saw him carrying his plate back to the kitchen. He washed off his plate, downed the rest of his water, and set the glass in the sink before turning to me. “Eat what you can, okay? I’m heading up to the main house to grab some of Val’s clothes for you.”
I looked down at my body. “Oh, I don’t think—um—I don’t think her clothes will—um—”
Mags had his coat back on and was putting on his hat as he said, “They will. If not, you can put on some of mine, but Grayson might try to fucking kill me when he sees them on you.”
My eyes widened in horror, and a sound I never thought I would heard from Mags came out then, from deep within his chest.
A chuckle.
“Yeah, sweetheart,” he said. “Your man is just as crazy as the rest of us.”
Then, he was gone, a burst of the freezing night air coming into the cabin for a split second. Mags disappeared into it as my mind replayed his words in my head.
Your man is just as crazy as the rest of us.
Your man is just as crazy as the rest of us.
Your man is just as crazy as the rest of us.
“Us?” I asked the empty cabin, as if it was going to give me an answer.