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I would not cry in this man’s general store.

I would not cry in front of a stranger.

“Thank you,” I whispered roughly. “I appreciate that.”

“You’re grand, my girl.” He bagged up all my groceries. “We’d love to have you for dinner one night. My wife loves to host.”

Was it really this simple?

“You barely know me,” I protested.

“And that’s what the dinner is for.” He patted my hand. “I have a sense about these things, you know. My Moira will love you, I already know.” He scribbled his phone number down on a piece of receipt paper. “You give us a call when you’re settled. You like fish and chips? She makes the best.”

“I—I do,” I stuttered. “Very much.”

“Good.” He brushed his hands off. “It’s settled then.”

“Thank you.” I blinked at him, the whole of my person off kilter at his ease and openness. “Very much.”

“Happy to do it. Do you need help getting to your car?”

I told him I didn’t, but he helped me anyway. He chattered as we walked, pointing out houses and stores that were worth my while. Tommy loaded my bags into the ‘boot’, as he called it, and sent me on my way with a cheery grin and an errant wave.

I drove back to Kilmorran, chest oddly buoyant from the interaction. If his wife was anything like him, I’d be taken the moment I walked into the house. I put away the groceries, heated up a microwave dinner, and lit a fire in the sitting room. I ate in silence, listening to the logs crackle and shift in the grate.

Somewhere above me, footsteps fell in one of the bedrooms. I stopped chewing, pausing to listen. The steps faded and a chill crawled up my back. The travel agent had warned me that there were reports of the place being haunted, but no one had ever managed to find anything conclusive.

I hadn’t balked at the idea of a ghost. The castle was ancient, centuries old. It would make sense if a spirit or two remained inside.

Tomorrow I would make this place a home for myself. Maybe move the furniture a bit. Explore the study. Read a book or two. Walk the beach path Tommy had told me about. Anything to bring me back into myself, to ease the numbness that had slowly spread from my chest to my limbs.

Bracken Bay was teeming with life.

Maybe some of it would brush off on me and bring me back.

Maybe this place would help me find myself.

Maybe here, I could find a way to be whole.

Chapter 3

Wolfe

There was a woman in his house.

One who wasn’t supposed to be there.

Wolfe rubbed his eyes, thinking the odd mirage would dissipate with a solid twist of his knuckles.

When he dropped his hand, she was still there. Still lugging his massive oak desk across his study, trying to rotate it to face toward the sea. Her blond hair was knotted tightly on top of her head and her cheeks were flushed with exertion.

He wanted to laugh.

That desk was older than him and five times as heavy, made with oak from Hungarian forests.

“It won’t work,” he said, arms folded across his chest. “Besides, you’re ruining the carpets. These are Parisian, you know. They’d be priceless today.”

Still, she kept twisting and tugging at the desk.