Page 95 of Hide From Me

It didn’t feel like jealousy or territory. It felt like a test and I'm sure it was. But at least I proved to that motherfucker that I didn’t make straight A’s growing up by cheating. Ilearn. Iadjust. Even in the worst goddamn conditions.

By the time we pull into the gravel driveway of the B&B, it’s nearly midnight. The stars are sharper out here, pin-pricks of silver against a canvas of ink, and the silence wraps around us—thick, still, and almost too heavy. Neither of us says much as we head inside and her fingers find mine without a thought, threading together like they belong there. My jaw unclenches just a little as I guide her down the narrow hallway to our room and shut the door behind us.

Raylen kicks off her shoes with a soft groan and stretches, arms overhead, shirt lifting just enough to show a sliver of skin that has my already-tired self tensing.

“That bed looks sinful,” she sighs with a sleepy grin.

I lean against the wall, arms crossed, watching her like I’m afraid if I blink, she’ll vanish.

She smiles at me over her shoulder, that lazy, half-lidded thing that drives a spike straight into my chest.

“You can hog the pillows tomorrow. I don’t know how long our meeting will last or where we might end up going, so it might be a night or two of you alone with nothing but the sinful bed.”

She turns to face me fully, catching whatever emotion I didn’t mean to let slip.

“Alone?”

I try to play it off, lips twitching. “I promise everything will be okay. You’re in one of the safest places.”

She crosses the room and slides between my legs, standing close enough for her warmth to sink into me. Her palms skim up my chest, slow and deliberate.

“Can you talk to me without making me feel like you’re constantly sneaking away to see some woman that happens to be your wife and three kids?”

God, she’s perfect. I want to laugh, want to make some cocky retort, but all I can manage is a weak chuckle as I drop my forehead against hers. I don’t deserve how good she is—how she can read me even when I’m trying to stay unreadable.

“I don’t want to ruin the night.”

“Too late. Your jealousy walked into the bar before we did,” she mutters. But there’s no venom in it. Just fatigue. And truth. She's not wrong.

If she only knew the restraint I was holding onto tonight. If she had any fucking clue how close I was to snapping King’s wrist when he brushed her hair behind her ear like he had any right to even breathe near her.

“I just…” I pull back slightly, meeting her eyes. I could tell her now—tell her everything. Let her know that I’ve dragged her into a world she didn’t ask for, put a target on her back without her even knowing. But what if she leaves while I’m gone? What if I don’t even get the chance to explain?

“There’s a chance I met my father,” I blurt.

Her whole body stills.

“It could just be my mind playing tricks on me—knowing he’s here, knowing what’s possible—so I start looking for the worst version I can find, but… fuck, I don’t know. King just…”

Her lips part like she wants to speak, to soothe—but she stays quiet. Just listens. Just sees me.

“You know about my mom,” I continue. “Or at least the basics. She was institutionalized. My grandfather… same well he should’ve fucking been. Both unstable. Both gone in the head. And ifhe’sunstable too—if I’m three-for-three on broken fucking bloodlines—what does that make me?”

I breathe through my nose, jaw clenched so hard my teeth ache.

“It makes me wonder if I’m just fighting a battle I’ve already lost. Like it’s already written in my blood, waiting to surface.”

Raylen swallows, her throat working around a response she doesn’t force. She looks at me like she’s not afraid of the mess—like she’s willing to step into it.

“You don’t even know if it’s him,” she says softly.

“What if it is though?” I mutter. “You’ve seen the man! He’s just like the rest of them. And if he is my… fuck. If that’s the case I don’t know how much longer I can pretend I’m not headed down the same fucking path.”

She lifts her hand to my face, thumb brushing along my jaw like she’s trying to anchor me. Like she wants me to stay.

“I’ve spent my whole life trying to stay in control. Trying to outrun whatever’s inside me. But being here, seeing him... it’s like looking at the version of myself I could become if I take one wrong step.”

She doesn’t rush to fix it. Doesn’t say some bullshit like you’ll never be him. She just gives me the quiet, the space, and the safety to fall apart.