Page 101 of Hide From Me

“What?” His voice is low and sharp, like a blade pulled halfway from its sheath.

“I didn’t think it was serious,” I rush to explain. “I thought it was just Sharkie and Jasmine again. I didn’t want to distract you, not while we’re here. I didn’t want to be selfish.”

“You thought someone broke into your house, and you didn’t tell me?”

It’s not a shout; it’s worse. Cold, clipped, and filled with a controlled fury buried beneath restraint.

I nod, my throat tight. “I’m sorry.”

“No, no, don’t apologize. It’s just… fuck…” His hand flies through his hair, giving me a glimpse of the pacing thoughts rushing through his head that aren’t landing fast enough. His eyes dart across the room, as if he’s trying to find something solid to hold onto. Occasionally, they catch mine, and I canseeit—he’s trying not to scare me.

He’s bottling it up again, the way he does when he realizes his anger might make me flinch. He folds it inward, swallowing the heat like it won’t burn his chest on the way down.

It's both dangerous and safe, and I don't want to lose it.

“I swear to God, if it’s your ex…”

“It’s not—”

He cuts me off, scrubbing a hand over his face and reaching for his phone, as if it has betrayed him. The way he yanks the charger loose makes my pulse spike.

“Fuck. I didn’t want to do this…”

“Do what?” I shift onto my knees, bracing a hand on his shoulder as I reach for the phone. “Moe—what are you doing?”

His head turns slowly, controlled. His jaw is tight, and one brow raised just enough to serve as a warning:Don’t stop me.

“Moe,” I say again, softer this time. “Talk to me.”

“I’m calling Caspian.”

“No.” The word bursts out of me like a sob. “No, you can’t.”

His body goes still.

“Why not?” he asks, his voice calm.

Too calm.

The kind of calm that only exists at the center of a storm.

“Because he’s in the woods,” I blurt out, the words tasting like blood and gravel.

Silence fills the room, thick and suffocating like plastic.

His gaze remains locked on me, unwavering. “Who is?”

Why does his voice always drop to a whisper when it should be raised?

My stomach twists in knots. I bite my bottom lip and look away—anywhere but at him. Dread crawls up my spine like cold fingers, reminiscent of that tense moment in a haunted house just before the jump scare. Youknowit's coming, but that doesn’t matter. You scream anyway.

“Lance.”

Another pause hangs in the air. There's a slight tic in his jaw, but nothing else.

“He came home late that night. I got him a beer and forgot the coaster. He flipped out, started screaming, and then he was choking me. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t think. No one ever helps me, Moe. Not once. So, I grabbed the closest thing to me.”

My chest aches. My throat tightens. “I blacked out. When I came to, he wasn’t moving. So, I... I dragged him out. It was an accident, I swear.”

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