Page 136 of Hide From Me

He looks at me like I’m gravity. Like, I’m the only reason he’s here at all.

No—

He looks at me like I’m the reason hebreathes.

My throat closes so I force myself to look away, barely catching Jasmine in her short navy dress, smiling so brightly it nearly blinds me. She’s beaming at Sam, and he’s beaming right back. I hadn’t noticed when he walked down—probably because I was too busy pretending Moe didn’t exist. Not that I think anyone looked anyway. He probably would have said they were threatening them with their eyes and created a mass brawl.

“Goddamn, she’s beautiful,” Laura whispers, drawing my attention to where hers is stuck.

Cordelia steps through like a war goddess cloaked in white silk. Her dress hugs her like armor, her bouquet a savage arrangement of polished knives and ivory ribbon. Her presence is electric, regal, deadly, and heartbreakingly soft all at once. Every step is calculated elegance, her eyes shimmering, her mouth twitching at the edge of a smile.

She walks like she already knows this is the moment her entire life has been leading to.

It's odd seeing the most terrifying people I’ve ever met getting married beneath strings of fairy lights like it’s some kind of Nicholas Sparks fantasy, but somehow, I’m not surprised.

It feels inevitable, like the universe was always bending toward this moment, no matter how much blood they spilled or how many ghosts they collected along the way. Cordelia and Caspian seem like they were made for this—made for each other in the way that defies reason. It’s the kind of bond you can feel, the kind that doesn’t ask for permission or forgiveness.

It’s the one that survives in the spaces where normal people fall apart. Sitting here, watching them, I can’t help but feel like I’m on the outside of something holy, trying to understand it without breaking it.

I glance back at Moe, my chest tightening the way it always does when I catch him looking at me like that. Like if I so much as shifted, he’d follow. No hesitation, no questions. Just follow. I feel that pull between us, that invisible thread that’s always been there, no matter how hard I’ve tried to cut it, and for once, I don’t push it down. I let it settle. Let it remind me of everything I’ve been too afraid to admit. I let it mean something because this time, it has to.

There’s no more room for pretending. No more room for hiding behind my anger or my fear. If there’s going to be anything left of us, it has to start now.

When Moe steps forward to hand Caspian the ring, his fingers linger just a second longer than necessary. It's small, barely visible if someone wasn't looking close enough, but his hand trembles the slightest bit, and I know it’s not from nerves over the ceremony. It’s obvious in the way his jaw tightens, like he’s trying to hold in everything that moment brings to the surface. He’s breaking, but not from pain. It's the type of break that only happens when you're so happy but so scared that you don't know how to handle it. It's the kind of break you only feel when letting go of something you love.

A single tear slips free, carving a quiet, unapologetic path down his cheek, and he lets it.

He doesn’t reach up to wipe it away or pretend it isn’t there. He just breathes through it like it’s a weight he’s been carrying too long and finally decided to set down.

Caspians' eyes meet his for a split second, and it's like the whole world feels the weight of how much one sibling can love another from that simple look alone. Sam clears his throat, and Moe's eyes return to mine. Hesmiles. Not the grin he uses to charm the world when he’s trying to hide the damage. Not the shy, uncertain one he gives when he’s not sure how to be seen.

This smile is mine.

It’s the one that softens the sharp lines of his face, crinkles the corners of his eyes, and lets me see the man beneath the scars. The one that speaks louder than any words ever could.

I’m not perfect. I’m not fixed. But I’m ready to try. Ready to stop running. Ready to stop letting my past define what I deserve. For the first time in a long time, I want to believe in the possibility of something real. And as his smile lingers, as his gaze stays locked on mine, I know he’s already believed in it for both of us.

I owe it to him—and to myself—to believe too.

Thirty-Two

Moe

05-17-2026

Cloud fucking 9

I can’t stop looking at her.

The lights could flicker out, the canopy could catch fire, King could drop-kick someone into the ocean—and I wouldn’t blink. Cordelia could launch one of those razor-sharp bouquet knives straight at my face and I’d let it hit me just to keep my eyes on Raylen.

She’s sitting near the aisle, just slightly off to the side like she’s trying not to be noticed, hands folded too carefully in her lap. Like she’s physically holding herself back. That dress—emerald green—clings to her like sin and fate all at once, and it matches my boutonnière so perfectly it’s like some cosmic joke. Or a cruel reminder. We are stitched together, even if we’re unraveling at the seams. Her eyes haven’t met mine fully, but she hasn’t looked away either. And that’s enough to keep me rooted here, tethered like gravity doesn’t apply to anyone but her.

Around us, the reception hums to life. The air is thick with champagne and laughter and the low hum of string instruments from hidden speakers. Waves crash behind the canopy in a rhythm that feels oddly like a heartbeat. Cordelia is already barefoot, yanking Caspian onto the dance floor with a look that promises both eternal devotion and, if necessary, homicide. Jasmine’s laughing so hard she nearly spills her drink. Sam’s got lipstick on his collar already, and I’m sure it’s hers. The whole world is glowing—but I only see her.

Raylen. My chaos. My compass. My center of goddamn gravity.

“Stopstaring,” Jon mutters beside me, elbowing me with enough force to knock my drink. I flinch, dragging my eyes away from her and scowling at him.

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