Page 15 of Ghost
I don’t want safe. I want him.
Before I can respond, a new sound cuts through the storm’s howl. Faint but distinct.
Thump-thump-thump.
Helicopter blades.
Mason’s entire body goes rigid, every muscle coiled for action. His eyes meet mine across the room, and in them I see not just protectiveness, but something fierce and possessive that makes my heart race for entirely different reasons.
“Stay exactly where you are,” he commands, and my body responds to the authority in his voice even as?—
The sound grows louder. Closer.
And everything changes.
Mason stills. Completely.
The breath he takes is sharp, shallow. His entire body coils like a wire about to snap, and then—he moves.
Not the smooth, calculated movement I’ve come to expect. Not the steady-footed warrior I trust with my life.
This is different.
He stumbles toward the bathroom, like the floor’s shifting under him. Like, he doesn’t know where he is. I ignore his order and leap to my feet, knowing instinctively that heneedsme.
By the time I reach him, he’s at the sink, sleeves shoved to his elbows, scrubbing his hands under scalding water. Over and over. Nails digging into his palms. Skin turning red.
Steam curls around his head like smoke. His eyes don’t see me. They don’t see anything.
He’s somewhere else. Somewhere bloody and loud and godawful.
I don’t think.
I just move.
My arms slide around his waist, careful but firm. I press my cheek to the thick heat of his back. He’s rigid, heart hammering through his spine, but he doesn’t push me away.
“You’re safe,” I whisper, anchoring my voice low and steady. “You’re home. Montana. Your cabin. The storm’s still outside. Nothing’s coming.”
He shakes once. Just once. A full-body tremor like a dam cracking behind his ribs.
I hold on tighter.
Because right now, he’s the one drowning.
And I need him to know he’s not alone.
I barely know this man. I shouldn’t be reaching out to someone lost in his nightmares, but somehow, it feels right.
As if comforting him is the most instinctive thing in the world.
Maybe it’s crazy.
Maybe it’s reckless.
But with Mason, it feels—right.
The moment my fingers touch his skin, electricity crackles between us. His heart thunders against my touch, its frantic rhythm gradually steadying as I hold him.
