Page 213 of Hide and Keep

A scoff gets stuck in my elongated throat. Even I don’t listen to myself.

But I will. Starting now.

I hereby emancipate Crue Brantley from my mind, my body, and my…

Heart.

It’s not like he was in my heartreally. I mean…

He was.

He is.

He shouldn’t have been.

He was a stranger when I first tucked his memory in there. I didn’t know anything about him. It wasstupid. Acrush, nothing more.

But he wasn’t a stranger when I added to his chamber, stockpiling things like waking up to him holding my hand, watching him put my shoes on for me every time we exit a vehicle, seeing him flash me my bracelet from across the room, feeling him braid my hair, finding out he dyed my favorite drink so I can enjoy it.

Grabbing the hands on my stomach, I wrap them around me until the guy at my back is hugging me. That’s what I really want—someone to hug me and tell me everything’s going to be okay. I know it won’t be, but that’s what people in the movies always do and I’ve always wanted to experience it myself. It always looks so comforting.

Below heavy lids, I watch that familiar hat come closer.

That doesn’t feel comforting.

I squeeze my eyes shut, telling myself it’s not him. It can’t be. Not only was he not wearing a hat when I left him but that was over three hours ago. If he followed me, which I stuck around to make sure he didn’t, he would’ve found me already.

“That doesn’t belong to you,” I hear quite clearly despite being in a nightclub.

When I open my eyes, I find I was wrong again.

How many hats does he own and where is he storing them? I need to find his stash and burn it. I’msickof seeing a hat on him.

The suction on my neck suddenly disappears, then the guy asks my bodyguard, “What doesn’t?”

“Her. You have five seconds to remove every part of your fucking body from hers before I throw your ass in the Connecticut and let the tide take you out to sea.”

“The Sound is an estuary,” I correct Crue, unhelpfully if his expression is anything to go by.

He holds up his right hand, all five fingers spread wide, then starts counting out loud, “One,” before lowering his pinky first.

“I didn’t think Ever Munreaux had a boyfriend,” the guy I didn’t give my name to murmurs near my ear, our bodies still moving, just at a slower pace. So much for anonymity.

“Two.” Crue’s ring finger bends.

Maybe he likes being watched. His cock certainly isn’t shrinking away from the menacing figure before us.

“Three.” Middle finger.

Without removing my gaze from Crue’s, I say just as calmly, “I don’t.”

Crue lifts his eyebrows but lowers his index finger. “Two.”

I don’t. He’s not my boyfriend. He couldneverbe my boyfriend.

“One.” His thumb now folded over the other fingers, Crue uses the fist to punch the guy plastered to my backside right in the face. Twice.

The high-pitched shout in my ear has me releasing the arms around me to duck in the opposite direction, but not before blood splatters the side of my face.

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