Page 81 of Your Masked Haunting

My heart tightens as I walk around the bed and drop to the ground behind her, pulling her back flush to my chest. I wrap my arms around her shoulders, securing them across her chest, not too close to her neck to trigger any reminders of tonight.

I breathe her in, tucking my cheek to her hair, smelling dirt from the maze, a staleness from the hospital, and my girl buried beneath it all. Self-loathing pulses through me, and I hate that I wasn’t there and that she had to face that alone.

I should’ve hired security for her. I should’ve had someone watching the cameras during the game. I⁠—

Shut up, take a breath, and be present.

That regret will likely stay with me forever, but I can be damn sure that nothing like that will ever, ever happen again. I don’t care if I have to quit hockey to be by her side twenty-four/seven or if I have to hire round-the-clock security. I’ll do anything—anything—to keep her safe.

She heaves, her cry thick with emotion. Gently, she returns Pen to the nightstand and leans back into me, tucking her legs up to her chest, her back flush to my front. She turns her head, resting it against my collarbone.

Tears flow like rivers down her face, taking God knows what pain with her. From tonight, the attack, or the last twenty-four years of hardships she’s faced. Whatever it is, I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere.

“Get it out,” I whisper into her hair, and she clings tighter to my arms, her body only held up because of mine wrapped around her. “I’ve got you, Mona. You’re safe.”

Slowly, she nods, twisting enough to plant a tear-soaked kiss to my arm. She inhales, like she’s trying to say something, but nothing comes out.

I wait for minutes, giving her the space and patience to find her strength, but when she softens against me, melting into my embrace, I finally murmur, “Stay here with me.” She has no reaction at first, so I clarify exactly what I mean. “Permanently.”

Slowly—terrifyingly slowly—she sits up and spins to face me, kneeling between my legs. Her beautiful face is flushed red, her eyes reddened not only from crying, but the petechiae caused from the choking.

Reaching up, she cups my face, stroking my cheekbones with her thumbs. “You’re my home, Cas.”

I lay my hands atop hers, pressing her fingers gently into my cheeks. “So, yes?” I murmur, a haunted smile tugging at my lips.

She nods and leans forward, wrapping her arms around my neck, tucking her head in the crook. “Yes.”

Grabbing her hips, I tug her toward me, wrapping her legs around my waist and holding her in place as I get to my feet with her suspended in my arms. “Moving in with your boyfriend so soon? I knew you were crazy.”

She giggles, and my heart completely melts. “That may be the least crazy part of all of this.”

Rubbing my arm up and down her back, I stride across the room and into the en suite, lowering her gently to the tile floor. “Do you want pajamas or a T-shirt of mine?”

“You have my pajamas?” she asks, taken aback at how I might’ve pulled that off, as if I didn’t manage to get Penelope here.

“Not exactly. I wanted to, tried to—at least the guys did—but the police held everything but Penelope for the crime scene since he might’ve been in your room.”

“He was,” she whispers, her stare falling to my chest. “My door was cracked open when I woke up. That’s … that’s why I thought it was you luring me out.”

My eyes burn again, and I pull her to me, wondering how I’m ever going to be able to go to practice or games without her handcuffed to me. But that’s a problem for a later day.

“T-shirt,” she murmurs, slowly pulling away.

I nod, stalking over to my bedroom and plucking a Sinners Hockey T-shirt from my dresser. “I have panties too. I can grab them from the craft room.”

Her eyes flick up to mine, a sparkle twinkling at what I said. “You … you have a craft room?”

“What?” I scoff. “You thought those cards just made themselves?”

She chuckles again. “I mean, no, but I wasn’t expecting a full-fledged room.”

“I’ll have you know, we take our Craft Club very seriously.” I slide my hand down her wrist, taking her hand in mine. “I’ll show you.”

“A quick peek, then shower, then bed. It’s four a.m.”

She giggles as I pull her behind me, leading the way out of my bedroom and down the hall, opening the door and exposing all of my secrets.

Bounding through the threshold, she devours it with her eyes, her jaw halfway to the floor. The bins of sorted paper, the basket of premade ghost cards waiting for a message to be stamped inside.