Page 31 of Hide From Me

It stings, more than I want to admit. She didn’t say a word about the playlist I queued up just for her—her favorite songs, the ones I remember her humming behind the diner counter. Hell, she barely looked at me the entire drive. I thought it’d get a rise out of her, maybe force a reaction but…nothing.

I guess that’s what I get for trying to peel a little sunshine out of my stormcloud.

“You’ll find out,” I chirp, forcing the brightness in my tone. The urge to grab her, to shake something loose, nearly overwhelms me. I wanted her thigh under my palm. I wanted to feel it bounce to the beat while she smiled at me like I mattered. Instead, the further we drove from town, the stiffer she became, as if she were preparing herself for impact.

“Don’t worry,” I mutter, catching the panic flickering in her gaze as she surveys the vast open space around us. “I’m not playing tonight.”

I place my hand on the small of her back, guiding her toward the willow tree that crowns the hilltop. The branches sway, curtain-like, in the evening breeze, a private fortress above the world. I’ve never brought anyone here. This spot has always been mine—my place to think, to breathe, to unravel without anyone seeing.

But I want her here. I want her everywhere.

My heart stammers, as if it’s running out of rhythm. A part of me dares to imagine a life where Raylen is mine,reallymine–her belly swollen with our child, a ring on her finger, my world tethered to hers–but then my lungs constrict, and the image shatters because I can’t picture that future without my family being a part of it.

Jasmine would go crazy over my child since she and Sam can’t have any of their own. It’s only right for Caspian to be my best man if I’m his. Cordelia deserves more support, and having someone just as grumpy as she is, like Raylen, would do her some good. I feel like I'm about to be fuckin’ sick.

Nothing in this world comes without a price and I already owe too much.

“This—” Raylen’s voice cuts through my spiral, and I blink back to the present, realizing she slipped from my grasp.

I’m just standing there, hand still extended like a fool, while she circles the picnic table I set up beneath the tree. Every petal laid out, every item chosen—it all feels childish now.

“This is your idea of a date?” she laughs, teasing but not unkind. Still, I rub the back of my neck, awkward and raw.

“Uh…”

Before I can stumble through a defense, she plops down on the bench and rifles through the basket. When she pulls out a bottle of gin, her brows shoot up in amused disbelief.

“I could’ve sworn I had you figured out by now,” she mutters, fingers tapping against the glass. “But you keep surprising me.”

“Is that a bad thing?” I ask as I move to sit beside her.

She shrugs, but her eyes land on my knuckles. They’re scabbed and sore-looking—raw truths I didn’t bother hiding.

“No. It keeps things…” Her gaze lingers. “Interesting.”

“Oh really? What exactly interests you then, sunshine?”

“Are you seriously asking me that?” She growls under her breath, clearly frustrated with her long black nails making the cork impossible to manage. I reach for the gin, tugging it gently from her grip.

Pouring us both a drink, I fight a smirk as I hand her the glass.

“Unless you want me to pack up my snacks, drinks, and dick and take them elsewhere…” I trail off, letting the threat dangle. Her eyes go wide, and she raises her hands in mock surrender.

“Fine, fine!” With a cocky grin she takes a drink and the moan she lets out at the taste has my hand dropping to my lap hoping my dick won’t react to the sound.

Fuck.

“I like reading, learning. Knowing something makes me feel like I have some odd purpose.”

“I do too,” I reply almost instantly, pulling out the various packs of candy I brought back from my trip. “I’ve been told I retain knowledge pretty well, but that’s only because I’ll spend hours studying whatever it is.”

“Really?” she asks, but her attention quickly shifts as she looks at the treats. “Where did those come from?”

I grin at the excitement in her voice, but it’s not a genuine smile. I hate that I can’t tell her more than a simple, “I picked them up during my business trip.”

“But fromwhere?” Raylen asks, tugging at the bag of Nigerian mixed candy. I look towards the view. It’s nearly time for the sun to set, which means she’ll soon get a glimpse into my world, but I won’t be able to fully share it with her—not in the way I want to, at least. Not yet.

“Africa,” I hum.

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