Page 141 of Hide From Me

I lean in, press a slow, reverent kiss to the center of her chest, right over her heart. She shivers beneath me, breath hitching like I just stripped her bare again.

“I thought I wanted you to stay away,” she whispers, the truth in her voice so raw it cuts me. “But that’s not what I needed.”

I rest my forehead to her sternum, close my eyes, and breathe her in. “I’m not going anywhere.”

She tilts my face up, and her eyes burn into mine. “Good. Because I’m done hiding. I want all of it, Moe. The danger. The damage. The darkness. As long as it’s you.”

The smile that pulls at my lips feels small at first, like I don’t quite believe I’m allowed it. But it grows, slow and sure, full of everything I’ve never said out loud. Everything I’ve felt for her since the beginning.

“Then come on, sunshine,” I say, voice rough with emotion. “Let’s go make your entrance.”

We help each other straighten up—her smoothing down the fabric of her dress, me brushing sand off my jacket. I wipe a smear of lipstick from my chin, and she smacks my chest lightly, grinning at me like we’re sixteen again. I take her hand, our fingers twining together easily, naturally, like they never belonged anywhere else.

We walk side by side through the trees, back toward the glow of the fairy lights, like nothing happened at all.

Except everything did.

Inside, the reception is chaos—Cordelia spinning in circles, off-key and happy, a pickle in hand like a makeshift microphone. Caspian watches her with that look—the one that says he’s already won everything he ever wanted. Sam’sgot Jasmine thrown over his shoulder, laughing while she rains playful punches down on his back.

Raylen squeezes my hand once, soft and sure, before slipping away into the heart of the chaos like she was made to belong in it, like the storm never even touched her.

And for the first time in forever, I don’t follow her like I’m lost.

I follow her like I belong.

Because I do.

I always have.

“Happy birthday, little shit!” Cordelia yells and I slide in with the worst dance moves imaginable inching closer towards Raylen as she side eyes Caspian’s attempt of a shimmy.

“Best birthday gift ever.” I grin.

Epilogue

Raylen

09-21-2026

Seaborn Base

The wind is brutal this morning—dry, sharp, and harsh in the way that only coastal storms can be. It howls through the empty stretches of land, kicking up dust along the cracked, sun-bleached road that winds toward Seaborn’s base. The gusts whip loose sand into tiny cyclones that hit the car in bursts, coating the windshield with a thin film of grit. I know I should stop and clean it off, but I don’t bother.

Moe will see it later and offer to help, as he always does, his brows drawn together in that quietly exasperated way that somehow makes me want to kiss him senseless. He’ll mutter something about how it’s bad for visibility, then roll up his sleeves, grab a rag, and clean the whole car while I sit in the front seat, pretending to judge his playlist. In reality, I’ll just be committing the shape of him to memory—the curve of his mouth when he doesn’t realize he’s smiling, the way his hair falls into his eyes when the wind catches it, and the sound of that soft hum like a secret he only shares with the quiet.

The guard at the gate barely glances up as I drive in; he gives a lazy wave and motions for me to pass without even asking for ID. There’s no salute, no challenge—just a quiet sort of respect. I suppose that’s what happens when you’re officially, unofficially dating the guy they all refer to as Lieutenant now, almost as if it’s a sacred title.

It’s strange how simple the shift was. I told him I couldn’t handle everything yet—his job, his world, and the collateral damage that comes with it. I braced myself for an argument, for feelings of guilt, but he simply nodded. It seemedlike he didn’t consider it a sacrifice at all. Instead, it was as if granting me peace was the easiest decision he’d ever made.

The next day, he reported to Caspian, and it wasn’t the grand family blow-up I had imagined. There was no shouting or slamming of doors. Instead, Moe advanced his rank, transitioning into a role with fewer risks and more leadership responsibilities. He didn’t step back out of fear; he stepped back because he understood where he belonged—and right now, that was here. With me.

He’s still the son of two powerful founders—people I used to think would hate me, but I believe him when he says they’d love me. He’s also the son of a very charming captain, Jon, who has been through and is still going through his own personal hell. Yet, he somehow shows up day after day for a son he didn’t raise but has always been willing to love.

I know Moe will eventually return to the front lines. He will always be Seaborn’s golden child, and that won’t change. But it’s no longer about proving anything. He no longer chases ghosts like he used to. He’s grounded now—whole, even in the places that still hurt.

Perhaps that’s what made it easier to breathe again. Loving someone who is that sure of himself and that steady helped me find myself again, too.

I’m not the storm anymore, even though I still have rainy days. I haven’t become sunshine, but I think I’ve found the rainbow—the proof that beauty can exist between both. I still prefer my makeup a little too dark and lean into sarcasm like armor. However, I also wear the dresses my mom buys on girls’ trips and sometimes even like the way I look in them. I still flinch, but not as much. Now, a flinch doesn’t mean a raised voice or a slammed door; it means a kiss on the forehead and a whisper of“I’ve got you.”

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