Page 14 of Hide From Me (Chaotic Love #3)

Eight

Moe

Raylen's Spooky Ass House

I’m grinning like an idiot, and I don’t even care.

It’s deranged, really—Just three hours ago, I was punching a mirror into glass dust. Now I’m rolling my shoulders, adjusting my grip on the stems of the little yellow flowers I picked from my mothers garden, and practicing my fucking breathing like I’m about to walk into an interview, not a date.

That’s me—a walking contradiction.

The contrast should embarrass me, but it doesn’t. Maybe that’s why I joke so much—because if I don’t laugh, I’ll unravel. Perhaps that’s why I smile so wide—because underneath, I’m nothing but broken parts held together by the fantasy of a girl who doesn’t even know she’s my entire lifeline.

“You poor whipped son of a bitch.” I laugh briefly, then quickly clear my throat and compose my expression to knock on the red door.

My brows furrow as I hear not one, not two, but three distinct sets of footsteps coming from inside the house. For reasons I can't explain, my shoulders square, and I step closer to the door, gripping the flowers tightly as it abruptly swings open.

“What the hell are you doing here?” I'm frozen in place, my heart dropping to my stomach as I see not my little ray of sunshine, but Laura Vaughn—a medic for Seaborn, someone I see regularly on base… A person who can ruin everything, just like she has once before.

Finally managing to lift my jaw off the floor, I send a glare in her direction .

“I could ask you the same question!” I whisper-yell in response, waving my flowers to emphasize my point.

It’s none of her business. None of my actions should concern her, yet she always acts like they do.

I say "always," but I mean ever since I showed a sliver of interest in her, only for her to stab me in the back for a better position on base.

Nothing ever happened between us, but she was the last woman in uniform I allowed myself to pursue. Plus, she didn't benefit from it so at least I can say I hope she’s enjoying guard duty while also tending to the wounded.

“This is my brother's best friend—” A moment of realization crosses her face, followed by a long pause. “You better not be the mystery man, Moe.”

My irritation briefly fades, and I grin. Look at me climbing the ranks in my little sunshine life. I’m not a “friend” or “fuck buddy”; I’m a mysterious man.

“Is that what you all call me?”

“You need to leave before your brother finds out,” she growls, trying to shut the door.

I slide my boot between it and the frame. “He’s not going to and you’re not going to fucking tell him.”

“You think this is about you?” she hisses. “I did it to protect—”

“You did it for yourself.” I cut her off, dropping my voice. “Don’t ruin this for me.”

I refuse for someone to take this from me. I need my little ray of sunshine like I need air to breathe.

She keeps me feeling sane.

“Watch it.” she snaps. My boot creaks under the pressure she puts on the door.

“Sunshine!” My voice carries that tone that always seems to blush her cheeks.

“Moe?” Her voice resonates through the dark house that I'm barely able to admire. From the small crack in the door, it looks clean and filled with neutral dark colors, which makes my grin widen into a full smile.

While I enjoy observing her closely, I’ve always tried to respect her privacy regarding her home. However, I must admit that the subtle combination of cigarette smoke and perfume drifting outdoors tempts me to sneak inside to discover what makes it smell that way.

Does she light up a smoke late at night when she has too much on her mind? When she feels lonely, does she wear her best clothes and dance around like she’s at a bar? Both scenarios seem unlikely, but it’s fun to imagine who my little ray of sunshine is when I’m not around.

“I swear to God, Moe, I’ll–”

Laura doesn’t get to finish her sentence as the door swings open the rest of the way, and Raylen pushes her way between us with an uncontained smirk.

Damn . I knew this was all I needed—to see her basking in her unrestrained darkness while still radiating that sunshine she keeps so well hidden behind clouds.

“You brought flowers?” She laughs as if it’s the most ridiculous thing, but the slight fidget in her fingers suggests otherwise. It’s as if she’s itching to get her hands on them.

“I think I’d be failing if I showed up at a pretty girl’s house empty-handed,” I reply, stepping closer to lean my shoulder against the doorframe so Laura can’t make a last-minute decision to slam the door and keep Raylen from me.

“Failing?” She repeats, a hard furrow appearing in her brows, making her beautifully rounded cheeks puff out and highlighting the lighter-than-usual makeup around her eyes.

I lean in closer, and she turns her head as if expecting me to kiss her.

That's not my intention this time, though. The way my lips brush against her ear while I keep my eyes locked on Laura is just my way of asserting my dominance. Laura may be the hidden hothead, but she doesn’t scare me—I know her secrets and why she keeps them so well hidden.

“At making you fall for me, of course,” I whisper with a smile. Raylen pushes against my chest, but I don’t budge. Now that I'm close to her again, I feel like an addict. I crave another taste of her. I would sell my soul if it meant I could keep riding the high she gives me.

“You're such an idiot,” Raylen huffs, and Laura quietly adds, “That’s true.” But with how Raylen looks at me, I don’t think she even registered the words.

“I told you to hold on! I wasn't done!” A man's voice booms, and my features fall. I swear im getting real fucking sick of men being around my woman. She may call this casual, but if she believes there isn't anything more here for a second, she's just as insane as I am.

Wait no. I'm not insane. I'm not crazy. I'm… Protective. Yeah, that's what it is, and that's the only reason my hand wraps around Raylen's wrist, and I nearly pull her out the door and behind me.

Am I an idiot dragging her out of her own home like some savage animal protecting their food? I am.

I don't care.

“What the hell, Moe!”

"We have a date, baby. I don't want to be late. Do you?" I say playfully, but the warning in my voice is clear.

I brush my thumb over her pulse and glare at the man I’ve seen too often.

I don’t care that they work together or if I seem possessive.

She should have sent him running after my last threat, yet here he stands in the living room, grinning, his gaze trailing over me and making an embarrassing blush creep up my cheeks.

Is he checking me out?

“You big, jealous, brooding dumb arse!” Raylen laughs, and my head turns in her direction. I want to control my expression, but I can’t because that sound was the most beautiful thing I’ve ever heard. It wasn’t sarcastic or forced like usual; it was so genuine that I hope to hear it again soon.

“Can you blame me?” I mutter, and Raylen rolls her eyes. I work my jaw as the guy with the death wish steps closer. What was his name again? Jim? Joel?

“That’s my best friend.”

“I promise I won’t touch her.” Jack flashes a boyish grin, but I refuse to smile back. Every man has intentions when it comes to a woman they’re close to; I just don’t know if his are innocent or not.

Raylen slips from my grip to take her bag from Jack’s hands. They share a strange bump of heads before she pushes past me and hurries down the stairs. I can’t help but smile this time—she seems just as eager as I am, even though she wears a look suggesting she’d rather be anywhere else.

“These will need some water.” I force a smile, tossing the flowers to him which he luckily catches and tuck my hands into my pockets as I slowly back away from the door, keeping my eyes on Jack.

He doesn’t back down; he grows bolder when Laura steps beside him with crossed arms. They don't seem threatening or malicious, but I hope they understand that while they may be her friends now, she will be my girl one day.

Hell she already is.

With that thought in mind, I hurry to catch up to Raylen, only to find her already buckled into my car as if she owns the damn thing. She can fucking have it if she wants it.

Slipping into the driver seat, I swallow hard and remind myself to keep my hands to myself. Now that I’m getting a good look at her cropped black top letting just enough skin peek out above her thigh-high cut jeans, I think I'd give her my soul too if she asked for it.

“Where are we?” she calls, her voice muffled by the sound of the car door shutting behind 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.