Page 71 of Hide From Me

Seventeen

Raylen

01-15-2026

Some Shitty apartment

“This place is absolutely horrendous,” I mutter, arms folded as I stare into the flat Jack’s currently pretending to fall in love with. I haven’t stepped more than two feet inside, mostly because I’m convinced the ceiling is going to cave in the moment someone exhales too hard, and also because I’m pretty sure I just saw a roach sprint across the floor like it had somewhere better to be.

“You’re in your cranky mood again, Ray!” Jack yells from the bathroom, spinning like an idiot because that’s all the space allows for.

“Seriously, if you’re this desperate to get out of Laura’s, you can come stay with me for a bit,” I say, exasperated. My gaze drifts along the hallway, eyeing the spiral stairwell as an escape route, already counting how many steps I’d need to bolt out of here.

“What, and give you a reason to avoid Moe even more?” he calls out, voice echoing off the tile. “Not a chance.”

He’s not wrong, but still—I was being nice.Mostly…

Although the second Moe came over, Jack would absolutely become a walking nightmare, moaning through the walls, pounding on the door mid-hookup just to mimic the bed creaking like we were in a damn haunted house. I can already hear it in my head, and yeah, maybe it’s not the best idea after all.

“It was only an offer,” I mumble, fingers twisting my phone inside my hoodie pocket, already regretting today’s entire outing. The apartment smells like someone tried to cover up a crime scene with bleach and expired coffee grounds,and Jack’s treating it like a fixer-upper special on HGTV. I wrinkle my nose, wondering if this place is even legally inhabitable.

“I’m just saying,” he continues as he climbs up onto the kitchen counter and opens a dusty cabinet like he’s inspecting a wine cellar, “you and Moe seem to be doing okay. I figured since you never go to his place, yours would be the eventual nesting ground.” He shrugs, dragging his finger across the wood and not even reacting to the layer of grime he collects.

“This’ll be the snack cabinet.” He whispers.

I slip into the hall to avoid him seeing my face, because the worst part is that he’s not entirely wrong. I’ve been building walls, staying guarded, waiting for something to go wrong—clinging to control like it’s going to keep me from unraveling. And even though Moe doesn’t scare me the way Lance did, even though he’s never done anything to warrant the fear… there’s still that voice, soft and convincing, whispering that I’m not safe unless I stay the one with the upper hand.

“I’ll be outside if you need me!” I call up, raising my voice slightly as I reach the stairs. “And if you rent this place, I’m telling Laura you’re moving into a crime scene. She’ll make you sage it before she ever steps inside.”

“Snitch!” he calls back.

The sun is trying its best to warm the street below, breaking through thin clouds; the smell of fresh rain still clings to the pavement. It should be calming, but instead, it only makes my skin itch. I can’t tell if I want to text Moe, call him, or delete his number altogether.

I lean back against the worn brick complex, staring at the storm rolling out from this morning. He ignored me for two days. No explanation, no apology—just a vague “busy with work” excuse like his friends hadn’t broken into my apartment and turned it into a war zone. And still, I find myself hoping he’ll call first, like that would somehow make this easier.

All I need to do is pull out my phone, dial his number, and ask him about his day. That’d be inconspicuous, right? Moe wouldn’t be able to gauge that I’mjust testing what it feels like to do everything I’ve been wanting since the start of this. It’s like dipping a toe in the water to test the temperature.

“Oh, thank god,” I huff as my phone starts to vibrate in my pocket. If he weren’t the one to call me first, I probably would have been stuck letting my clothes get contaminated by the side of the brick apartment while battling myself until Jack came out.

A younger couple walking by shoots me a curious glance, which I return by looking up at the sky and saying, “The weather is so much better than it was this morning.”

What is going on with me?

They turn around, and I lean my head back against the wall, squeezing my eyes shut in embarrassment. I place my hand over my ear, forcing a calm tone as I say, “I was just about to call you!”

Did my voice just go up a pitch?God, if you’re there, please make this stop now. Thank you.

“Oh, really? That’s great to hear, sweetheart!”my mom's voice chirps through the line, and my stomach drops as I pull the phone away to check the screen. Yep. Not Moe. Just my mother, ruining the one moment when I might have made a good decision.

I take a deep breath and force a smile into my voice. “Surprised you, didn’t I?”

“Well, I’ve got a surprise too!”she says, practically bouncing. I glance across the street at a small, run-down café. It looks like it hasn’t seen a renovation since the nineties, but the mismatched tables under the faded umbrellas give it a weird kind of charm.

“Is it a pony? You know I’ve always wanted a pony.” I hum, trying to joke. The laugh my mom lets out makes my shoulders sag and my features soften. It’s real and genuine, just like when my father would push me on the swing with extra force whenever my mother walked by, just to hear her squeal from the almost impact.

“You had a pony. You hated the thing.”She giggles. I don’t think I’ve drawn out that sound from her in a while, and that thought makes me feel guiltier than I expected. It’s not their fault for what I went through, but it’s also not my fault for how I healed. I think they understand that.

“Because it wasn’t a pony. It was Satan in horse form,” I huff. “I couldn’t even pet the damn thing without losing a finger.”

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