Page 85 of Hide From Me

Of course he's grinning at me like I hang the moon and stars.

“Look at us having our first argument. We’re fucking adorable.”

“Oh my God, you’re insufferable.” I groan.

Despite myself, I can't fight my grin, so I turn and slide into the leather racing seat as he slips a token into the slot. The arcade machines buzz and flash around us like nothing’s changed.

But everything has.

Twenty-One

Moe

01-22-2026

B&B

“Rise and shine,” I murmur, setting a tray on the nightstand beside her head.

I was tempted to stay—maybe just lie there and watch her sleep for another hour—but time’s ticking, and there’s not much to see with her hair fanned across her face anyway. I tried brushing it away once. She flinched. Actually flinched.

I fucking hated it.

I hate that I’m starting to see it now—the tiny, silent ways she’s been taught not to feel safe. I hate that every memory with her is replaying in my head with new meaning: the way she tenses at surprise touches, how she never quite lets herself relax, even when she’s laughing. I should’ve known. I should’ve seen it sooner. I swear to God, once I find him I'll kill him. Not like I did Dale. No. Lance's will be slow, painful. I'll even have Laura pitch in and patch him up, just so I can beat him an inch from death over and over again.

Raylen shifts with a sleepy grumble, but instead of focusing on it, I’m fixated on the way her eyes snap open and dart around the room like she’s bracing for a punch that never comes.

“Easy baby.” I murmur.

“It’s not much,” I say as she shifts back against the headboard, trying to keep my voice light even though every inch of me is itching to climb back into bed with her. I'd kill to hold her so tight right now that she can't think about anything but the safe pressure I put around her body.

“Just some pancakes. Don’t worry—no chocolate chips–you seem to despise them any time I get them. But full disclosure…” I grin when she lifts her head to look, her eyes narrowing like I’ve committed a felony for waking her. “I don’t normally cook, so there’s a chance they taste like shit. If they do, my card’s on the kitchen table.”

She blinks blearily at me. “Are you leaving?”

I think that's the highlight of my morning. Hearing her voice groggy, thick with sleep and suspicion as she fights the sheets twisted around her legs like they’re actively trying to restrain her. One finally slips loose, exposing bare skin that practically begs me to kneel and kiss up the length of her thigh, but I take a steadying breath and back away.

“Wait. Right. Work stuff. Sorry, I forgot,” she mutters before I can answer.

I pause.She’s trying.

After our little spat, we continued the day like nothing had happened. I let her beat me at so many games, it wasn’t funny. Well, it wasn't funny to her but I did laugh a time or two when she called me out for it.

When we got back to the B&B, I didn’t make a single move; I simply held her through every god-awful horror movie she picked until she tilted her head and kissed me. Not a makeout session, just a kiss. Slow, deliberate, and filled with so many words I almost said but couldn’t get out of my throat. Yet, within that time and all those unspoken words, we've found ourselves in this odd space, where she accepts what we are, and I fight to be patient.

“Don’t apologize,” I say quickly, voice low. “As I was saying, you can head out if you want. Maybe explore the shops, find a donut place. If, by some miracle, you actually like the food I made, you can still use my card. Go nuts.”

I’m rambling now, I know it, but once I step foot on that base, I need to flip the switch. I have to be someone else; someone who commands respect the second he’s seen, someone who doesn’t hesitate. I have to be the strongest version of myself, so I’ll give her every ounce of softness I have left before I go.

“I can go out?” she asks, quiet beneath the rustle of my unofficialuniform.

I glance back. Her brows are pinched, and the blanket is wrapped tight around her chest like armor. Her eyes dart to mine, but she won’t hold the gaze. That’s when it hits me—this isn’t about my job. This is about him. That fucking ghost in her past still clinging to her shoulders like a chain, shaping how she sees herself in the world, how free she’s allowed to be.

“Yeah, baby. Of course you can,” I say gently. “Just keep your phone on you. Be safe.”

I finish pulling on my pants and catch the way she stiffens. She’s still not looking at me, her focus pinned to the tray instead. The ache in my chest spikes, sharp and sudden, so I look around the room hoping she can’t catch it. If she’d told me everything sooner, maybe I would’ve done things differently. Maybe I wouldn’t have joked so much, wouldn’t have touched her so carelessly. My shoulders sink as I move to the edge of the bed and lean over her, brushing a kiss to the crown of her head.

“I expect to see ten charges by noon,” I grin against her hair. “Wreck my bank account, baby. Make it worth it. I wanna know you’re out there living your best life on my dime.”

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