Page 12 of Hide From Me (Chaotic Love #3)

Six

Raylen

My Spooky Scary House

“You’re such a cheater!” Laura practically shrieks as Jack throws down yet another Draw Four card. Her expression is a mix of fury and frustration, her large-framed glasses sliding down her nose while her curls bounce with every word.

It’s game night. Every Friday. Booze, banter, and bickering are our sacred ritual, as Jack would call it, since he claims my house is the creepiest place he’s ever seen.

“It looks like witches would live here—deep in the woods, with nothing but the demons under the floorboards to keep them company,” he would say. I actually like my house very much, thank you. Besides, I couldn’t leave it even if I wanted to. Too much is buried here.

Laura slams her cards onto the table, her delicate fingers trembling with outrage. She looks like a woodland sprite with flushed cheeks and soft freckles, but the rage radiating off her could make a grown man cry.

“You’re rigging this,” she growls, clutching her half-inch-thick deck of cards. “It’s like you’re hiding an entire warehouse under the table.”

Jack just smirks, leaning back like the smug bastard he is. “I’m just better at this game.”

I raise my glass to my lips to hide my laughter. Laura may look like she floats around humming lullabies, but she's a demon when it comes to games. It’s weirdly comforting. Predictable. I like predictability these days.

“Rough day at work?” I hum, drawing another card .

“Don’t want to talk about it,” she grumbles, organizing her disaster of a hand. Typical Laura. She's the only person I’ve ever known longer than Jack, who remains a complete mystery. She tells us everything and nothing at once—wrapped in a bow of sarcasm and smiles.

“I haven’t been laid in literal weeks. I think I’m collecting dust down there,” she deadpans.

Jack groans like she just punched him in the gut. “For the love of God, Laura—”

“Same,” I mutter before I can stop myself.

My throat tightens.

It’s not the sex I miss. It’s the feeling of being wanted in a way that didn’t make me want to crawl out of my skin. It’s Moe’s voice in my ear, the slow press of his fingers, the controlled chaos in his touch. The way he held me like he knew exactly how to destroy me—and didn’t.

“Alright there, Rayray?” Jack teases, his grin wide and knowing.

I flip a reverse card and ignore him.

“Oh, you’re fuckin’ in for it,” Laura screeches at Jack.

Rolling my eyes, I check my phone for the fiftieth time, only to find it depressingly dry, so I set it back down face-first. I hate how reliant I’ve become on it, since I haven’t seen Moe in so long.

He hasn’t even been to the diner since the day he brought my car back.

My threat to call the cops was just that—a threat—but now I wonder if I pushed too hard.

Maybe I was too harsh in assuming he was keeping the car captive like some kind of psychopath.

I was half tempted to explain to him that day why I was so strange about it: how Lance used to take the battery out when he was angry and didn’t want me leaving, or how my car would mysteriously disappear for a week, only to return home covered in bumps and dents.

But he blew me off, and rightfully so. I can be an arse to him, so I don’t blame him for wanting to distance himself from me.

I just didn’t think it would affect me like this .

Maybe I’m clinging so hard because of the guilt gnawing at my stomach over the way I act when he does things for me, like fixing my car.

I’ve never experienced that before, and just the memory of climbing into the driver’s seat with his scent lingering in the air and turning the key to hear the engine start instantly warms my chest.

No, no, no. It was just a friendly gesture, and that’s what I’ll continue to tell myself.

"You can't do that!" Jack yells, throwing down his cards like a child throwing a tantrum. I glance at the deck to see how many draw twos Laura has stacked against him.

This game is never going to end.

Like a godsend, my phone starts vibrating face down on the table. Since the only people I talk to are in the room, I don't need to check who it is. Am I an idiot for grinning? Absolutely.

My hand shoots out, grabbing my phone like a lifeline. I don’t look at either of them. Just stand and slip away, leaving them to scream about draw twos and technicalities.

"Hello?" I nearly whisper while gently closing my bedroom door behind me. Why am I whispering? Fuck I don’t know. He does this stupid shit to me. I’m hooked on a dick I haven’t even had and it’s so damn frustrating.

“If it isn’t my little ray of sunshine.”

I roll my eyes, even though he can’t see it. “What do you want?”

It’s silent, as if he wasn’t expecting me to be so blunt. I wish I could be different—able to take compliments and flirt with ease. I want to be the kind of girl who openly swoons over him but this is who I am now.

“If you were going to be quiet, you could’ve avoided calling me altogether,” I mutter, tracing my finger over the dresser as I stare into the mirror. The person looking back at me is almost unrecognizable—no makeup and light bags under my eyes.

“I’m a busy man,” Moe finally replies, his tone light and teasing. “Speaking of busy, I wanted to let you know that I’ll be gone for a week on a business trip. It’s last minute and unexpected—”

“I don’t care,” I quickly cut him off. He’s not my boyfriend; he doesn’t have to explain things to me, even though deep down, I really do appreciate it, especially with–

Don’t think about it, don't think about it, don't think about it.

I gnaw at my nail and start pacing the floor.

“Alright then,” he says quietly. “I was hoping you'd let me take you out when I get back. It may be casual, but that doesn't mean I can't wine and dine you a little.”

“Oh, so is this your way of making up for disappearing…again?” I mockingly say as I plop down on my bed.

“You saying you missed me?” His voice drops, and I swear I can feel it in my spine.

“Hell no. It’s one less stain I have to clean off the tables,” I reply sternly, trying to recall the last time I saw him, but I hate the memory that comes to mind.

He was so distraught, with flushed cheeks and his chest expanding so wide I thought he might burst. I want to ask what happened that day, but it’s not my place.

“You wound me.” He chuckles, but then he hesitates. “Yes, it’s my way of apologizing. My job takes a lot out of me when I have to go on these trips, and it’s not fair to you that I leave at the last minute, especially since I haven’t seen you since—”

“Fine,” I say without thinking. There’s a knock on my door, so I throw a shoe at it, hoping whoever it is will get the hint. A stretch of silence fills the line so loudly that I catch myself straining to see if I can still hear him breathing.

“Thank you, baby. I promise you won’t regret it.”

I know he’s waiting for me to respond, but I can’t find the words. Thankfully, he doesn’t press for more and simply hangs up with a quiet, “See you soon.”

Goddamn him .

“Ray! If I hear even the faintest sniffle, I’m busting this door down!” Jack yells.

“Is it because—” Laura starts.

I throw the door open so fast it bangs the wall. “I’m fine.”

Both of them flinch.

“Woah,” Laura says, hands up. “Just worried.”

“Can you blame us?” Jack mutters.

“No,” I admit, voice thin. “I’m fine.”

“Are you?” Laura presses gently, eyes shifting past me like she can’t meet mine.

I stare at Jack wanting—no, needing—him to say anything that might ease this sudden pressure settling on my chest but he simply gives a weak smile.

“It’s been a year. That’s all. Just a number.”

The words fall out too fast, and their silence says more than anything they could say aloud.

“Stop acting like it’s some sort of omen,” I snap. “He’s probably in jail somewhere. Or dead. Either way, I’m here. I survived.”

“With this house, anything is an omen,” Jack teases, pulling me into his side, and for once, I don’t fight it.

“We need drinks,” Laura blurts. “Now.”

“Drinks. Yay,” I grumble, pulling away from Jack's hold.

It's pathetic how much I wish I were with Moe instead. He doesn’t try to force me to smile or silence my worries by brushing them off.

Instead, he allows me to have my depressing and gloomy moments to wallow in my misery.

He accepts the dark cloud that follows me and understands that sometimes I just want it to rain.

I genuinely appreciate Jack and Laura's attempts to lift my spirits.

I know it's not healthy to bottle everything up, but they don't understand, and they never will.

I won't let them. I slip into the kitchen, out of their sight, to grab the vodka.

However, as I approach the freezer, I pull out my phone.

With a few curses under my breath, I send the text that I know I shouldn't.

Hurry back, monster.

It's still casual, and I want it to stay that way. I can think of it as making a best friend like Jack or Laura. The only difference is that I will fuck this one. I want that power back over my body, and I need to feel the control of choosing who can and can’t touch it.

“I’ve got vodka!” I call out.

“Since when did you start smoking?” Jack calls out, and I freeze in the worn-down archway between my kitchen and living area, barely balancing the drinks and mugs in my hands.

Laura pulls a cigarette from the red and white pack and instantly starts puffing on it like it’s clean air rather than a cancerous stick.

I don’t smoke–I saw a man smoking the other day, and the strong tobacco scent immediately brought Moe to mind, minus the subtle cologne that clings to his hoodies.

So, I bought a pack, but after doing so, I felt like an idiot.

I thought the pack in my bookshelf would make me feel less foolish, but now it’s firmly grasped in Jack's hand, taunting me.

“I never started,” I grumble as I lay out the glasses to pour us each a generous shot. I hesitate for a moment as Laura lets out a long exhale, and the scent surrounds me like a warm blanket.

“Then why do you have them?” she prods.

Finding my sense of self, I glare in her direction. Why are they asking so many questions anyway? I never pry into their business, so what gives them the right to do it to mine? Drawing in a breath, I set down the large-necked bottle and pick up my deck.

“A friend left them here,” I lie, and Jack laughs.

“ The friend? Damn, you two worked quickly.”

I knock back my shot, not correcting Jack. I’ve already started my lie, so there’s no sense in backing down now .

“A mystery boy? Count me intrigued,” Laura says, her interest piqued. Mysterious, yes, but "boy"? He’s far from it.

I correct her, “It’s ‘mystery man,’” grimacing as the alcohol burns its way down my throat.

“And he’ll stay that way,” I growl, hoping he will keep his mouth shut.

I don’t want to explain my way of healing to someone who won’t understand.

Laura is a really good friend, but she doesn’t strike me as the type who would grasp that some people mend their broken parts by allowing someone else to be the glue for a short time.

“That he is,” Jack says with a smirk. My jaw drops, and my eyes narrow.

Coming from a man who had complained for days about how “scary” Moe was, he certainly seems interested now.

I scan the room for something to throw at him that won’t damage my property or his face, but all I can settle on is a skip card.

I’ve been so focused on the irritation he caused that I almost forgot I had previously reversed the deck, which means the card now skips Laura instead. Jack instantly slaps down a draw four.

“Are you hiding cards up your sleeve?” I yell, and he laughs.

“Far from it, Ray. I’m just a lucky man.” He smiles, and Laura pulls out her phone, grinning like an idiot. I have no idea what she finds so amusing, but her smile is kind of scary, and the blush creeping into her cheeks is even more unnerving. So, I pour myself another shot.

“Well, go get lucky with one of your crushes. Stay away from mine,” I mutter under my breath. Maybe I shouldn’t be drinking anymore because that comment slipped out too easily, and I’m not ready to deal with the questions.

“Jealous much? You two would be a match made in hell if you weren’t so stubborn,” Jack teases, but Laura slams a card down and mutters, “Uno,” diverting his attention.

I gnaw at the inside of my cheek. I am jealous, and that’s a problem. It becomes an even bigger issue when my phone chimes, and I quickly check the stupid message that appears.

Lead me back to you, sunshine.