Page 12 of Hide From Me

I broke down.

Noted. Casual doesn’t mean helping.

I shake my head as I reread each message until the punctuation is engraved in my mind.

I wasn't there for her.

I messed up again.

I can't do anything right.

I'm spiraling into a hole so deep and dark that I don't think my nails are long enough to claw my way out.

It feels like my heart is mirroring my mother's monitor flatlining.I couldn't help her.Red blurs my vision like the blood-stained Caspian who walked in to tell me our father was gone.I couldn't save him. My chest constricts like my hand around the pistol when I aimed it at the man who raised me when our parentswere gone.I almost lost him.There's a churning in my stomach, similar to the feeling I got when gunshots rang out and bodies dropped—people I never even got the chance to know.

“Bruv?” Caspian’s hand lands on my shoulder.

I force a breath, laugh too loudly, and smile too wide. “Sorry, I was… distracted. What were you saying?”

Caspian narrows his eyes, but he lets it go. “We’ll talk later. You’ve got somewhere to be?”

If only he knew how badly Ineedto get there.

I shrug. “Um, it’s nothing.”

Caspian's brows furrow, but he returns my smile with a lopsided grin and glances at my phone. I quickly tuck it into my pocket and tilt my head curiously as I realize just how late it is and that he’s still here instead of at home with his fiancée.

“You're here late?” I ask.

“Um—”

For once, he seems more like a stuttering mess than I do.

“Your mission requires some of my attention, so I'm trying to manage my time during the hours Cordelia has scheduled for wedding planning with Jasmine.”

My chest gets this odd warm feeling, and I give him a genuine smile despite my internal conflict.

“Do you need a lesson?” I nudge his shoulder, referring to a sparring session like we used to have so often. Our father would take us to the mats, and we’d wrestle while he asked us questions. If we got them wrong, he’d catch us off guard with a playful jab; if we got them right, we got to return one.

He laughs, ruffling my hair. I flinch. The gesture feels more like that of a mentor to a soldier than a brother-to-brother one. “Not tonight. Go break another recruit’s heart.”

I punch his arm playfully and bolt, phone already back in hand.

I'm sorry, I was working. Where are you?

Seeing that she’s still in the same spot, I rush out of the base to my car. I might seem crazy if I suddenly show up where she is, but at this point, I don’t care.

She's typing.

Then not.

Typing again.

Don’t worry about it.

I exhale through my nose, knuckles tightening on the wheel.

Oh, she’s mad.