Page 42 of Sins of the Hidden

Heat crept up my neck as I tucked my chin. My own emotions were a labyrinth I'd stopped trying to navigate long ago. "Y-Yeah."

She rubbed her chin thoughtfully, her golden ring catching the light along with her perfectly manicured nails. "Want my honest opinion?" The directness in her tone made my stomach flutter. "I think it would be good for you." She wagged her finger at me. "You're a people pleaser to a fault. You don't want to let this… friend down." The way she emphasized friend made me wonder if she saw right through me.

Her hand found mine, warm and reassuring.

"We're all broken in our own ways," Daphne said, leaning forward. "Sometimes helping someone else through their shit helps you figure out your own. It's like getting outside your head for once, you know?" She stirred her tea slowly, eyes a little too focused on the swirl. "Sounds like your friend's got demons. You sure you're not one of them?"

The irony wasn't lost on me–planning to teach emotions to V when I could barely navigate my own. Her words settled deep in my chest, carrying a weight I hadn't expected. Here I was, sitting in this perfect farmhouse, about to guide a killer through feelings I still struggled to identify in myself.

I circled the rim of my teacup. "But how can I teach him when I don't understand my own?"

"Emotions are difficult to navigate." Daphne's gaze drifted to the wall, settling on a mosaic where blue and red glass merged into a heart. The afternoon light caught the edges, casting colored shadows across her face. Her hand squeezed mine, voice dropping to barely above a whisper. "Even the strongest of us don't realize how we feel until it's too late."

Her words hung in the air between us, leaving me to wonder if she was speaking from experience. I opened my mouth to ask her more when we were interrupted.

The sudden click of the front door made me jump, tea sloshing dangerously close to the cup's edge. Heavy footsteps approached – confident, unhurried – before Chet appeared in the doorway. His dirty blonde hair was perfectly styled, shaved at the sides in a way that screamed both professional and dangerous, with flecks of gray at his temples that hinted at his maturity. The well-trimmed beard that framed his strong jawline held similar silver streaks, giving him an air of authority that only came with experience. When he spotted me, his face split into a charming grin that made my throat tighten. "Got somethin' for me, sugar?"

My chest seized, tight and aching, breath caught under his gaze. Logically, I knew Chet was safe—he'd never been anything but kind—but my body refused to believe it. Tremors started in my arms, forcing me to set down my cup before disaster struck. "I-I did, well I don't. I just forgot them at my apartment."

His expression shifted to one of mock disappointment, the corner of his mouth quirking up slightly. "That's a shame. Been looking forward to those all week."

Guilt churned through my stomach, eroding my fragile calm. He probably thought I was terrible, unreliable, maybe even that I disliked him. My heart hammered against my ribs as scenarios of ruined friendships spiraled through my mind like vultures circling a fresh kill.

"I-I'm so s-sorry," I stammered, my voice betraying my anxiety. "I p-promise I'll bring extra next time to m-make up for it." My fingers twisted together in my lap, unable to meet his eyes.

"I'm just teasing," Chet's voice softened as he noticed my distress. My nails bit into my palms, trying and failing to anchor myself as panic spiraled higher. He moved to Daphne, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead. Something passed between them – a look, an understanding, a language spoken without words. "Appreciate you makin' me somethin'. You can stop by any time, even without the treats." He winked, but there was kindness in it, not flirtation.

"Don't tease her, babe." Daphne's amused tone barely registered through the rushing in my ears. "You look like you're about to faint, Oakley."

She wasn't wrong. The room felt too warm, too small, my vision narrowing at the edges like I was peering through a closing camera lens. Porcelain rattled against porcelain as I abandoned my tea. Every heartbeat echoed in my ears, drowning out whatever Daphne was saying.

"I-I, uh—" Words failed me completely, my tongue feeling thick and useless. The familiar tightness closed around my throat, each inhale felt stolen.

"Didn't mean to make you uncomfortable." Sympathy crossed Chet's features, his eyes softening as he read my distress.That gentle understanding made everything infinitely worse. I didn't deserve their concern. Kindness was wasted on broken things.

"Y-You didn't." The lie tasted bitter as I fumbled for my purse, nearly dropping it in my haste. My fingers refused to cooperate, clumsy and trembling. "I-I'll see you next week. With those c-cherry cupcakes." The words tumbled out in a rush, sentences bleeding together as I rose from the chair too quickly, making the room tilt.

Daphne reached toward me. "Oakley, you don't have to?—"

"I really should go. Th-thank you for the tea and the advice." I managed to force out, mustering what little composure I had left. My voice sounded strained even to my own ears. I avoided Daphne's concerned eyes, unable to bear another second of what felt like pity. With a polite nod to both of them, I clutched my purse to my chest like armor.

The plush carpet muffled my hurried steps as I moved toward the door, having to pass by Chet's tall frame. I kept my head down, murmuring a soft "excuse me" as I squeezed past him. Though I didn't look up, I could feel him watching me, heavy with questions I couldn't answer. I struggled with the handle as I fumbled my way to freedom.

The sunlight outside was too bright, too harsh against my skin. The short walk to my car felt endless. My chest locked, air snagged in my throat. The world around me blurred at the edges, sounds muffled as if I were underwater.

Finally inside my car, I slumped against the steering wheel, lungs aching. My blown pupils stared back from the rearview. Through my windshield, I could see their perfect house with its perfect occupants. Chet had moved to the window, his arm around Daphne's waist as they talked, their silhouettes framed by warm light. Probably discussing the awkward mess that justfled their home, the girl who couldn't handle a simple social interaction without turning into the kind of disaster people pity.

They looked like something out of a magazine – beautiful, put-together, normal. Everything I wasn't.

As I approached the end of their street, a motorcycle idled on the corner. I paused, pulse kicking, before it sped away. Coincidence, or V's watching me again? I shook the thought away and kept driving.

Maybe Daphne was right about broken people helping each other heal, but what she didn't understand was that some breaks couldn't be mended with gentle words and good intentions.

What if there wasn't enough of me left to help him? What if helping him meant losing the fragile calm I'd clawed together? What if I unraveled just trying to hold him together? The thought terrified me more than his violence ever had. Some people weren't meant to be fixed—and I wasn't sure either of us could be.

Ten o'clock.

My bedroom felt wrong without him. My nightly ritual abandoned—chamomile tea cooling untouched, anxiety medication still in its bottle. All because he wasn't here.

---