Page 15 of Hide From Me (Chaotic Love #3)

My heart stammers, as if it’s running out of rhythm.

A part of me dares to imagine a life where Raylen is mine, really mine–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 from where ?” 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.

“You're so lucky. I've always wanted to travel,” she sighs, but I can’t bring myself to look at her as she pops the candy into her mouth. The silence around us is broken only by the sound of waves crashing peacefully in the distance. If you strain your ears hard enough, you can hear the distant thrum of Seaborn’s base just a little ways down the beach at the end of the hill.

“Maybe one day I can take you somewhere,” I say quietly.

I like the thought. There are plenty of easy assignments I go on that barely take an hour.

I could easily bring her with me and spend a few extra days showing her the world.

“I have to go to South America in a few days for another trip, but maybe you can come on the next one? We can figure it out.”

“Jesus, you travel a lot. What do you even do for work?” She prods, and I take the chance to sip my drink.

“Family business.”

“You’re starting to sound like a sugar daddy,” she mutters.

I laugh. “So now I’m casual, mystery man, and your sugar daddy?” I press a hand to my chest. “Truly honored. ”

“Don’t let it go to your head,” she says, but the teasing glint in her eyes is real.

I pull out a cigarette, light it, and exhale slowly as she watches my every move.

“I said no games tonight, but since we’re becoming friends I guess twenty questions is in order.”

“You go first then,” Raylen says, tugging the gin from my hands to pour herself another glass. I furrow my brows at how quickly she’s downing the drinks, but I try to focus on something else.

“Alright then, tell me about your job. Do you like it? What would you want to do if you weren’t a waitress or did you always know you wanted to wine and dine on people?”

“Whoa now, slow down,” Raylen giggles. I hesitate for a moment before flicking the lighter, enjoying the sound she makes.

“I enjoy my job because of Jack, but I don’t think anyone grows up thinking, ‘Oh my God, I want to wait on rude people all day’.”

I grin as she loses herself in thought, staring at the setting sun over the horizon.

“I wanted to be in law enforcement at one point,” she says quietly. I lean my elbow on the table and rest my head against it, watching as her lips wrap around her glass and she takes a smaller sip this time.

“Why didn’t you pursue it?” I ask quietly, hoping not to disrupt her relaxed demeanor.

“Law enforcement always fails us one way or another. I didn’t want to become part of the statistics after I lived through them,” she replies softly. I want to pry deeper and find out which station failed her. I want to understand what she needed them for in the first place.

My jaw flexes. I want names. Stations. Details.

But I hold it in, watching her instead. The light shifts around us, and the moment the base ignites in the distance, casting long beams across the sand and sea.

The stark structure glows against the dying light, steel walls kissed by the sun’s final blush.

It looks like a prison from here, but I know the warmth that lives inside it .

She rises to her feet, glass in hand, arms folded tight across her chest, but she’s smiling. Beaming. And fuck me, I’d do anything to keep that smile on her face.

“Not all law enforcement is bad,” I say gently, but she isn’t listening.

“That base, for example,” I murmur, following her around the table. My hands find her hips as I lean my own back against the worn bench, pulling her against me as we look down the hill.

She doesn’t flinch. Just leans.

“It’s full of people who’d go to war for someone like you,” I whisper.

“How do you know?”

Because I’m one of them .

Because you're mine.

I clear my throat and shrug, shifting my hands to interlace in front of her waist with a smirk as she relaxes back against me.

“It's their job,” I say simply, and her body shakes with what I can assume is a laugh she's not letting break free.

“Um, I hate to break it to you, but I don't think the people there really care about their jobs. They hardly ever even guard the place.”

My brows furrow, and my mind races at the implication.

I won’t admit to the undercurrent of irritation she just caused to course through me, because, for fucks sake, it’s my base.

Of course, we all care about our job, and the place is indeed guarded just fine.

I mean, we did have that one incident where my biological mother snuck in, but in our defense, she was a highly trained tech for the old faction, Bay, so honestly, I would have been more surprised if she hadn't managed it.

I nudge Raylen’s hips, causing her to turn and face me. Forcing a smile, I ask, “And how would you know that?”

“I snuck in once,” she says proudly, as if it’s no big deal.

My fingers flex into her lush hips, and I tug her closer between my legs to cover the motion. She braces her hands on my chest, as if she's trying to keep a distance between us.

“You know you could get in real trouble for that, right?”

“It was one time,” she says, brushing it off—but her cheeks flush.

My fingers flex into her lush hips, and I tug her closer between my legs to cover the motion. She braces her hands on my chest, as if she's trying to keep a distance between us.

“You could get in serious trouble for that,” I mutter, trying to mask the panic in my tone.

“It was one time,” she says, brushing it off—but her cheeks flush.

“And what was it like?” I ask, nudging her with my knee, forcing her to roll her hips. Her breath catches. Got her .

“Exhilarating,” she whispers, her hands tightening.

“I—I trained with them for a bit. Back in February,” she adds quickly. “The blonde lady said I beat some kind of record.”

My lips brush her jaw. My gut churns. Fuck.

My brain scrambles. Training course. Blonde... Jasmine. Fuck.

She doesn’t realize what she’s saying. Doesn’t realize what she did.

“It was only once,” she huffs, trying to harden her features as if she isn’t totally into this. I wish I were, but now I’m internally panicking. I need to figure out how she got in, when it was, and if she told anyone about it. I need to know how she even found the place.

“And they didn't notice? Seems odd for highly trained professionals. You sure you’re not lying to impress me?” I tease. Her focus stays trained on my mouth as if she's waiting to watch me close that small space.

As if she's just now processing my words, her head jerks, barely moving in my grasp, and she snaps, “I'm not!”

I know I’m pissing her off but what am I supposed to say? Yeah it’s called a training course, you probably beat the rookies for the day and since you were in that group Jasmine didn’t notice you weren’t even a goddamn soldier. Yupp, that would go over so smoothly.