Page 5 of Hide From Me (Chaotic Love #3)

Two

Raylen

Fae’s Diner

“Chocolate chips for table six! Hot plate!” Jack yells through the kitchen window like I’m not standing two feet away. I whip my head toward the little battered booth by the large glass window and growl under my breath. It’s eight o’clock at night, yet the monster demands pancakes to spite me.

“He can wait,” I mutter, brushing crumbs from the counter to clean up the sauce that a customer smeared earlier.

Ever since that night, I haven’t seen him, and now he just pops back in as if it’s completely normal to disappear and reappear whenever he pleases.

I scoff at my thoughts, realizing I sound a little crazy.

It’s not like we’re together, so I don’t have any real claim over him—bloody hell, I hardly know the guy. Just because he makes me want to laugh and does the cutest things doesn’t mean anything. I scrub the counter harder, trying to erase the sticky smear—and maybe even Moe’s effect on me, too.

“Raylen,” Jack warns from the kitchen.

I roll my eyes. Moe is a walking mystery. I don’t know who he is, what he wants, or what he’s even doing here—but I keep looking for him. Every day, I glance at that damn corner booth or scan the windows for his sleek black Mercedes.

I grab the plate harder than necessary and snatch the syrup to punctuate my annoyance.

“You owe me,” I growl .

Jack laughs. He’s around the same age as Moe, or at least they both look to be in their early twenties. He’s attractive, but he doesn’t have the same stormy eyes or hair that looks like it was kissed by fire. Not that I’d be interested anyway; Jack has been my best friend since high school.

I walk to the table, my jaw tight and my steps sharp. I hate not knowing, not understanding. If I can predict what’s next, I can control it—but Moe keeps everything buried beneath that blinding smile of his, so you can’t see what lies beneath.

“Here’s your bloody—” My words die in my throat. Condensation pools beneath his cup, untouched by the napkin I placed. It’ll ruin the wood. I open my mouth again. “I swear, if you don’t—”

“I know, I know.” Moe cuts me off, adjusting the glass without looking up from his laptop. My brows lift. That’s new. He’s never brushed me off like that before. I tug at the collar of my shirt and set his plate toward the table's edge so it won’t get in his way.

“Thank you,” I mutter, but he doesn’t look my way, even though my gratitude is genuine.

Irritation flares up again. This is the same man I could have had arrested for breaking in, the same man who danced on the bar like it was Coyote Ugly .

He’s the same guy who makes me laugh when I swore I wouldn’t again.

And yet, here he is, sitting as if he hasn't spent the past year chipping away at the one thing no one’s touched since my ex—my attention.

“Mmhm,” he hums.

“Tough day at work?” I ask, searching for a crack in his mask.

“You could say that.” He finally looks in my direction, and there it is—those little crow's feet that appear when his smile widens. Oh no, that means… here it comes.

“I think this is the most you’ve said to me without sounding like you hate me, sunshine,” Moe says with a soft purr that sends a million chaotic butterflies fluttering around in my stomach.

Goddamn him. That warmth he radiates—it’s dangerous.

I need to find the flaw, the fault, the monster lurking beneath.

I want something to validate the warning bells in my gut.

I blame my ex for that; he trained me to search for the cracks.

But he was just as bad. His smile was bright, yet there was a darkness behind his words.

His eyes held so much happiness, while his hands conveyed so much hate.

I shake the thought away and scowl. I won’t fall like that again.

Ever.

“Just eat your damn pancakes,” I grumble.

“They’d be better if you’d join me.”

“I don’t do dates.” The words snap out like a reflex. I turn before I can second-guess them.

“What do you do?” he calls after me.

My cheeks flush as an older couple by the door pauses to look our way. Great.

Why did I care if he seemed lost earlier? Now, I wish he would bury his nose back in his laptop and leave me alone. Attention is never a good thing; people can pick you apart and uncover every single insecurity with just a glance.

I tug at the hem of my shirt and glance back over my shoulder. “Casual,” I reply.

I should’ve said nothing. But it’s been a while. And there’s something between us—more than banter. He’s cute. Mysterious. Just enough to keep me interested without letting him in.

He holds my gaze, and his gray eyes darken, turning to slate. My breath hitches. I want to look away, back down, and hide from the way his stare seems to devour me, but it’s so consuming that I can't.

“Raylen!” Jack’s shout breaks the moment. I let my gaze linger a second longer before ducking into the kitchen.

Every fiber of my being buzzes with a rush of adrenaline.

There’s something addictive about defying social norms, taking control instead of surrendering to a man, and initiating rather than waiting around like a princess in a tower for her prince.

I could get used to this feeling instead of conforming to what "is expected of me, " as my ex would say.

“What was that about?” Jack nearly tackles me as he stumbles through the kitchen with flour-covered hands, so I raise my own to slow his momentum.

“Don’t worry about it,” I brush past, trying to keep my cool even though a smug little grin tugs at my lips. Through the kitchen window, I catch Moe. Elbow propped on the table, thumb dragging over his lip, eyes on the screen—but now, he’s smirking.

“Don’t lie!” Jack jumps in front of me. “I’ve been watching you two flirt like an old married couple for months. Come on—give me something! This is better than reality TV.”

“Mind your own business, " I mutter, grabbing a fresh rag from the sink tucked in the corner, which is littered with unwashed dishes. My shift’s almost over, and I just want to clock out.

“This is my business. Come on, Ray, we’ve been friends for years.

” His tone softens, and his eyes drop to the floor.

He’s been more of a friend than he will ever know.

If it weren’t for him, I wouldn’t have this job, wouldn’t have pulled myself out of the deepest hole I’ve ever been in, and wouldn’t have been able to leave the man who broke me.

Without Jack, I wouldn’t have healed from Lance.

“He wanted me to have dinner with him.” I relent, and Jack’s head shoots up, his eyebrows raised in surprise.

I scrunch my nose and continue, “Don’t even think about planning double dates or weddings.

You know I'm not ready for anything more than a casual fling, so I suggested something uncomplicated.”

“Hell yeah!” Jack rushes toward me, so I step out of the way, and he collides with the sink. I don’t mean to be rude—he really does give the best hugs—but I like knowing I have control over when and where someone touches me.

He lets out an "oof" and rubs his side as he says, “He’s cute. I bet he’s going to be fun! I want full details as soon as possible. I've been lacking since I'm always here.”

“Oh my god! I’m not telling you about my sex life,” I gasp, my eyes widening as I make my way to leave the kitchen again. “Call Kage and have him help you out!”

“You know he’s not into me like that,” Jack whispers, causing me to pause and look back at him with a grin. His unruly, dusty hair falls over his brows, and his brown eyes soften, making my heart ache.

“Then go for Vivian,” I suggest.

He smiles, and I smile back—j ust for him.

“Maybe I can go for both?” he replies, biting his bottom lip. I roll my eyes and laugh.

Unfortunately, my laughter fades as I step into the dining area and see that the monster is nowhere to be found.

Of course, happiness never lasts long enough.

I shake my head and head to the table. As always, his plate is stacked, glass empty, napkin balled up with the crumbs. There’s a folded twenty under the syrup bottle—and something else. A black slip of torn paper. I flip it.

Half of a business card. His name is at the top. The only complete word starts with "Sea. " On the back, there's a phone number.

My heart jolts unexpectedly, causing me to grind my teeth. It's not that I hate the feeling; rather, I've spent so long building walls, and this one piece of paper makes them tremble.

“I can see your shoulders tensing from here,” Jack shouts from the kitchen.

My head darts around the room—empty now, thank god.

“You said you want casual,” he calls. “Well, mystery man is offering. Loosen up. Let someone treat you right.”

"Sweet Jesus," I mutter, shaking my head as I tuck the neatly folded paper with his hefty tip into my apron. I hate to admit it, but Moe is probably the main reason I can afford house at this point. Living on a waitress's salary isn’t nearly enough, and most people hardly ever tip, but he always does, and it’s typically more than enough for me to save for rainy days .

"Go."

I pause mid-reach for the plate and glance at Jack, who leans against the kitchen window with his hands tucked under his chin like a love-struck idiot.

“I’m serious! Get your arse out of here and go home! Get in your bath and text him.” The old, creaky door to the dining room swings open, but I don’t dare glance at him. “Take the time to pamper yourself while he tells you all the dirty, filthy things he’s going to do to you.”

“Jack!” I gasp, turning with a throw of my rag, but it floats limply through the air before landing on the floor. We pause, staring at each other, neither of us backing down, before we break into side-splitting laughter.

“Fine,” I say, untying my apron. “But I’m not texting him. That seems desperate.”

“You will text him. You will giggle like a schoolgirl. And you will enjoy it.”

“I don’t know who you think you’re talking to—”

Suddenly, his hands cup my face, soft and sincere.

“You deserve this, Ray. Please, for the love of God, let go for just a little bit. I know…” Jack trails off, giving me a sympathetic look as he brushes my hair from my forehead. “I know Lance hurt you, but this man isn’t him. You have to let go.”

I hate him. My brows furrow, and my nose scrunches as I try to suppress all the emotions threatening to fill my tear ducts. I don’t know what I did in my lifetime to deserve a friend like him, but I’ll forever be grateful.

“I just want to see my best friend smile again.”

Oh no. I don’t want to cry. I can’t. But I feel a burning sensation in my chest, and my throat constricts.

“Go get a tattoo,” I whisper, and Jack smiles broadly, bumping his head against mine before stepping back.

“You think Kage will do one on my ass while Vivian pierces my dick?”

I gasp and cover my face. “I’m pretending I didn’t hear that!” I shout, rushing outside.

Once I’m out, I slow my pace. I really dislike the night—it always feels like something is lurking.

With my keys in hand, I gather my bearings and rush to my car, locking the doors and starting the ignition.

Rain patters on the windshield. I’m not depressed, despite what others may think; I just enjoy gloomy weather.

I only wish it didn’t make the shadows feel heavier.

What a contradiction, right? To like dark things but hate the dark.

I pull out my phone and the piece of paper. “I must be insane,” I mutter as I open my messages and begin a new one. What do I even say? “Hey, wanna hook up? ”

Nope.

But…

I bite my lip, my heart pounding, and do the one thing I never thought I would.

I send the bloody message.

Hey there, monster.