Page 12 of Hidden By His Side

Derek’s tightened face relaxed. “Of course you can.” He crossed the room, putting his arms around her.

Summer held her body still, breathing through her need to pull away. “I’m tired,” she said, relieved when he eased back.

“Do you want one of my shirts to wear?”

She shook her head, not wanting anything of his, and watched him cross the room to the dresser.

It took her a couple of tries to loosen the ankle straps on her heels. Her fingers felt too numb. Once she had them off, she curled into a ball under the covers, as close to the edge of the bed as she could get.

The lights in the room switched off, and there was a dip in the bed. The arm that snaked around her waist felt like a weight holding her in place and made her skin crawl.

She closed her eyes, breathing through it.

“I’m sorry, Summer,” Derek said, kissing her hair and making her nerves worse. “Can you forgive me?”

Her throat tightened, but she forced the words through. “I’m sorry, too.”

His arm relaxed against her. She waited for him to draw it back. Derek had never been a snuggler, which usually bothered her, but tonight she would prefer that.

“I don’t know what came over me,” he said, his breath too warm where it brushed over her skin. “I think I just wanted you too much. It’s been a while.”

She curled into herself tighter at the accusation beneath his words. Two weeks hadn’t seemed long to her, but she should have thought more about his needs. She’d been considering breaking up with him instead and had made excuses when he’d wanted to go back to his place after the last couple of dates.

She should try to make things work. Derek was nice, most of the time. And there was the coming test to show him, a test she was dreading, one she prayed would show a different result, even if that wasn’t likely.

Derek just wasn’t Ramiro. As the weight of the arm around her began to feel suffocating, she imagined it as someone else’s. Someone bigger and safer.

Ramiro had held her in his arms today. He’d called her his baby girl.

Derek’s soft snores filtered into the static in her head. She let the burning tears slip down her cheeks, remembering the way Ramiro’s thumb had wiped them away and crying even harder because he wasn’t there to do it again.

Chapter 4

5 years prior

Summer hugged the throw pillow against her chest as she curled her legs closer to her body, wishing she could grow smaller. It would be perfect if she could disappear into the couch. She could just fade away.

She lay her cheek on the pillow, willing the heat from her eyes. There was no reason to cry. She’d been the one to end things with Chris tonight. She always ended things after a few dates with the same guy. It was usually the third date when their hands wandered. Not anywhere inappropriate, not really, but not hand-holding either. They’d graze her arms, light strokes that made her skin crawl. Or their hands would settle at the small of her back, as if telling her she wasn’t going to get away easily.

The kissing she mostly enjoyed. Not as much when their tongues got too eager, but the meeting of lips, the sharing ofbreaths, that was nice. Some of her dates would involve their arms and hands, though, and then that trapped feeling would rise. Hugging brought that feeling even quicker.

During the third date, they all got that look in their eyes, the one that seemed to ask her for more, and she went numb inside. A part of her wanted to give in, to make them happy. They’d like her more if she gave them what they wanted. But then Ramiro’s voice rose in her head, telling her she should only do what she wanted to do.

He’d actually told her those words. For being such a criminal, he was surprisingly old-fashioned when it came to intimacy. He’d been the one to encourage her to date. It had made her die a little inside. He was reminding her he was out of her league.

She didn’t need the reminder. Ramiro was older and gorgeous and knew what he wanted. He still treated her like that teenage girl that had wept all over him. Which was fair. Summer still cried way too often.

She sniffled, hating the tear that dripped down her nose to plop on the pillow. Her emotions boiled inside, erupting whenever things got too hard.

The world was too hard all the time.

Ramiro was the only reason she wasn’t out on the streets, withering away. He’d propped her up, and he continued to do it. She wasn’t sure if she let him because she’d crumble into dust without his support or because being pathetic was the only way to keep his attention. Ramiro had a savior complex, and she took advantage of that.

Summer pulled the pillow in tighter so her hands wouldn’t reach for her phone, which Ramiro paid for. He also paid for her apartment. She looked around, comforted by all the pieces perfectly placed around the living room. They were hers—the blue bowl that reminded her of waves, the white carpet placed to sink her feet into, and the equally fluffy dark-gray couch she was sitting on. Everything she owned felt just right. Each also held a memory of Ramiro, smiling at her as she got excited about finding something she couldn’t live without.

She wouldn’t call him and burden him with her problems yet again. It would be better if she wallowed alone tonight. Better for him. He had to be getting sick of her by now.

He’d already saved her. She shouldn’t want him to keep saving her all the time.

---