Page 55 of Hide From Me (Chaotic Love #3)

“Bloody hell. I didn’t break in—the door just got jammed when I picked the lock,” Caspian growls.

I give the top of his head a light smack with the side of my hand.

This idiot. Did he not care about the meltdown I had with everyone else when they did the same thing?

Did he think that just because he’s my brother, it made it okay?

“What the fuck, Moe?” he hisses, jerking upright, rubbing his skull like I cracked it open.

His glare is half-offended, half-relieved. “You hit me in the med bay ?”

“You were crawling around like a lunatic,” I grumble, fighting a smirk. “I thought you were checking for monsters under the bed.”

“I was checking your damn bed height,” He exhales, exasperated, but there’s no heat behind it anymore, just quiet softening features.

“I just wanted to make sure she was safe for you,” he says, barely above a whisper now.

“I didn’t take anything. Hell, I barely looked around.

I got distracted staring at the damn flower petals on the floor. ”

“She’s not really the romantic type,” I mutter, looking away.

Caspian gives this bitter little laugh, smoothing his palm down the blanket near my arm. “She kept them, Moe. Didn’t throw them out. Kept them. And with how spotless she is? That kind of mess means something. ”

A pressure builds in my chest again, heavier than the pain. Cordelia steps forward, brushing a hand down Caspian's arm like she can ease the mini heart attack he just had.

“Everything’s okay, little one,” she says flatly, though I can see the genuine care behind her eyes. “I talked to Raylen.”

My head snaps up. Hope surges in my chest—but before I can ask what she said, Cordelia laughs.

“Sam put it perfectly when he wondered how she hasn't been caught yet.

I've been wondering the same thing, especially after he pulled up the guy's files and discovered he had no family besides Raylen to report his disappearance.

Granted, she is in the middle of nowhere, and I suppose the station doesn't patrol that area,” she rambles, mumbling under her breath as she stares at the floor, slipping back into soldier mode and trying to piece together a mission.

Caspian wraps an arm around her waist, causing her to snap her head back up, her eyes locking onto mine. “But that's another story.”

My heart sinks, and Cordelia gives me that look. That look that says, I know what this means to you, and I’m not going to pretend otherwise.

“Thanks,” I groan, tilting my head back against the pillow. The ceiling above me blurs. “That makes me feel a lot better.”

“We’ll deal with it when you’re better,” she says, her voice now stern. “She’ll be safe, I promise.”

I grin. I know she will. I wasn't lying to my little ray of sunshine when I said this place is full of people who’d go to war for her.

Cordelia gives Caspian a nod. “Now come on, Cas. You’ve hovered enough.”

He lingers a moment longer than necessary, his gaze taking in every detail of me as if he were memorizing it, just in case. Finally, he steps away, and Cordelia’s fingers brush against mine.

“If you try anything, I will remove your teeth with a pen.” She doesn’t even look at Jonathan when she says this, but we all know the warning is meant for him .

Then they leave, the door clicking shut behind them.

Silence descends like dust in the room, and now it’s just us .

Jonathan doesn’t speak at first. He simply stands there, arms crossed, posture a little too still.

“So…” I shift slightly, biting back a grunt as a surge of pain licks up my thigh. “I take it I don’t have to beg for a paternity test.”

That earns a short, rough laugh from him—no sarcasm, just breath and weight.

“No,” he replies. “You don’t.”

I try to shift again, this time more slowly. “I might want one anyway. I’m still convinced it could be King.”

He raises an eyebrow. “King?”

“Yeah. Tall. Intense. Shouts like a disappointed gym teacher. I figured he must be the one responsible for this delightful emotional chaos. I was preparing for a very… different sort of daddy issues.”

Jonathan actually huffs; it’s like a laugh has sneaked past his defenses. “Sorry to disappoint, but I think we’re both smart enough to see all the facts here.”

“Don’t be sorry,” I say. “You’ve got less of a murder twinkle in your eye.”

That gets a real chuckle from him, but it fades as Jonathan glances down at his hands and slowly lowers himself into the chair beside my bed.

“If I’d known—if I’d had even a clue—you wouldn’t have been left behind. Not for a second. I would have moved heaven and hell to get you out.” His voice is low, as if he’s afraid that too much volume will break whatever fragile thread we’re holding onto.

I stare at him, and the words land heavier than I expected.

“I know,” I say. And I do. Somehow, I really do .

He leans back slightly, closing his eyes for a moment, as if that single acknowledgment has relieved him of some burden.

“I’m sorry,” he says again. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there when you were young. I’m sorry I didn’t know about you. I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you from any of it.”

I’m not sure what I expected—maybe denial, deflection, or excuses. But not this.

“It’s not your fault,” I say, surprised by how easily the words come. “You didn’t even know I existed.”

Jonathan swallows hard. “Still. I should’ve… bloody hell, maybe if I had… or if I could have…”

The silence stretches between us. I look away, my throat tightening again. I press my palm to my chest, as if I can quiet the tremor building within me.

“I spent so long thinking I came from nothing but rot,” I murmur. “That maybe my mother’s madness was in me. That the blood in my veins was just…” I trail off.

“A loaded gun waiting to go off.”

Jonathan doesn't respond immediately.

"And now?"

I glance toward the door, where the people I trust most in the world just walked out. Where the girl, I would give anything to see again, might still be waiting for me somewhere out there.

I exhale slowly.

"I'm not sure," I admit, and the words taste bitter in my mouth. They feel like defeat, like I am acknowledging something I have tried to ignore since the moment I opened my eyes in this room. I sink back against the pillow, swallowing hard against the tightness in my throat. "Raylen looked at me like she didn’t know me. Like she was waiting for me to snap. And maybe she was right.”

I see it like it’s happening all over again—the way her eyes went wide, that flicker of terror she tried to hide, the step back that felt like a mile.

It guts me worse than any bullet ever could.

Because this is what I was always afraid of: that the moment she saw all of me— really saw me—she’d realize I wasn’t worth the risk.

Jonathan shakes his head slowly, as if trying to shake the thought from my mind.

His voice is steady and calm, but there’s a rough edge to it—like he knows exactly what it’s like to carry that weight.

“She looked at a man who walked through fire for her. That’s not fear, Moe.

That’s shock; that’s someone realizing just how much you sacrificed for her. Give her time.”

Time.

As if I haven’t spent months drowning in it. As if I haven’t felt every second as an anchor tied around my ribs.

“I don’t want time,” I say, my voice low and tight. The truth spills out before I can stop it, raw and ugly. “I want her. I want her to look at me and not flinch. I want her to believe I’m not something she needs to survive.”

There’s a long pause as Jon just watches me. I can see the thoughts turning behind his eyes, the way he’s trying to figure out how to connect with me without pushing too hard.

“You can’t control how she processes the truth,” he finally says.

His tone is gentle, but there’s a firmness underneath it.

“You can only continue being the man she fell for. The rest... that’s for her to work through.

She’s carried a lot on her own, from what I hear, and it seems like she handles it best when she processes things by herself. ”

I take a slow, deep breath, feeling the sting at the back of my eyes and the weight in my chest that no amount of morphine can ease. I manage to nod once, because he’s right, and I hate that he is.

What a fucked up bonding moment.

The room falls quiet again, broken only by the soft beeping of the monitors and the subtle drip of the IV. It’s that kind of silence that allows too many thoughts to surface—thoughts I would rather avoid .

Then Jon clears his throat, his voice low but resolute. “You’re not alone anymore, you know. No matter how this situation with her turns out… you’ve got me now.”

I exhale softly—part laugh, part sigh. My fingers absentmindedly pick at the edge of the blanket, fraying it further.

“I was never alone. I’ve always had a family.

My mom—the one who raised me—loved me more than the moon.

My father was just as devoted. Caspian has always been there for me.

And yes, we’ve picked up some strays along the way… ”

A small grin escapes me despite myself, as my mind drifts to Cordelia’s ridiculous sense of humor, Sam’s fierce loyalty, and Jasmine’s quiet strength. Our twisted, patchwork little unit somehow fits together, jagged edges and all.

“They may not be blood, but I’ve never been alone—just… lost ,” I whisper. The admission feels like laying down a weapon I didn’t realize I had been gripping so tightly.

Jon hums low in his throat, and I wince, realizing how that probably sounded to the man sitting in front of me—the man who didn’t know I existed until he saw me bleeding out.

He is trying to bridge a lifetime’s worth of distance in just a few words.

I should have kept quiet, but the drugs in my system loosen my tongue, making it too easy to spill the things I usually keep locked away.

Fucking morphine. I thought the high was supposed to be fun, not all emotional and shit.

“Is there an application for this twisted little family?” he asks.

I blink, caught off guard, and my head turns toward him before I can stop myself.

He’s grinning, and it’s so damn human—so normal —that it steals the breath from my lungs.

It’s the kind of smile that reaches his eyes, crinkling at the corners, chasing away a bit of the exhaustion clinging to his face.

It’s me.

“I guess we can find some space,” I say, my voice hoarse but warm.

Jon swallows hard, and I can see him working to keep his composure. He nods once, slow and deliberate, as if he’s trying to commit this moment to memory, afraid it will vanish if he moves too quickly.

“I’ll try to play the part right, even if I'm miles away.”

I can't help but let my eyes shut as his words wash over me. Logically I know there's no medium here where I can keep him, Raylen, and my family by my side at all times but that's okay. It'll all work. It has to, because I think he and I both know I’m not leaving my home.

“I’m glad you made it back,” he says quietly.

“Me too,” I whisper, and I truly mean it. I really do.