Page 244 of Hide and Keep

Fuck. I do. I love her. I fell for that five-foot-nothing, peppy-as-shit, pain-in-my-ass, creepy little cheerleader, and damn, was that a bad idea. Iknewthat. Iknowthat. And yet, I still did it. I can’t even pinpoint when. It justhappened. One moment I hated her.I tried to fucking hate her.The next minute, it’s like I couldn’t function without her in my sight, knowing with absolute certainty that she was okay. Not even just okay. That she wastaken care of. Happy. Spoiled. Because she’s not as spoiled as everyone thinks, not with the stuff that matters anyway. Ever’s drowning in designer clothing, but what puts a real smile on her face? Wearing my clothes that are so old they don’t even have tags anymore. No clue what brand they are, how much they cost, or where I bought them from, but they make Ever happy, truly happy.

I make Ever happy, truly happy.

Once we enter my room, it’s like stepping into another world, one where we both get to be who we really are. An abditory. Ever taught me what that is, as well as what the Louvre is—an art museum in Paris—because I sure as shit didn’t know the first time she said it. An abditory is a place to hide or keep valuable goods, like art. That’s where I fell in love with her—our own abditory—and that’s where I’ll stay in love with her…until I’m forced out of it.

Away from that room, and this manor, back in the regular world, it’ll be easier to remember why I didn’t like her to begin with. When she was the elaborately feral Ever Munreaux who threatened to put my dick in a chastity belt and had my Bronco painted with pink flames, it was almost easy to dislike her.

Almost.

I was still intrigued. I was attracted. I was spellbound. Ineverstood a chance against that nicely dressed weirdo with her fortune-telling cards, and her magical rocks, and her altars, and her…spirit. That’s what it comes down to. Otherworldly or not, with or without enchantments, Ever’s spirit is unmatched. She captivated me from the first second I came face to face with her.

I may not have liked her right off the bat, but I wanted her in my life. A life I didn’t even want to be in but knew she needed to be in. And she did. She’s been essential. A spark.

She helped me see what I’d been blinding myself to. She’s shown me I’m capable of more than just dark and destruction.

If I die tonight, it’ll be for her and it’ll be worth it.

I’m ready.

“See you at dinner,” I promise Ryan.

The dining room is unrecognizable tonight. It’s still the same opulent room, but the people in it are different. They’re bustling. Everybody’s interacting, even Father. He never converses with Ryan or Edwin so jovially, but both men stayed at his insistence, serving themselves plates of ceviche. They’re not delusional enough to sit with us and eat the whole thing. Most likely they’ll scamper back into the kitchen for that, but for now, they’re in here talking and laughing with each other, as well as Crue, in between bites of tortilla chips.

My bodyguard’s not this conversational with anyone usually, at least not in the manor. If I was surprised by him this morning, I’m downright shocked right now. His teeth are showing, he’s smiling so big. I’ve only seen him like that toward me.

But now every time he looks my way, it dims the briefest amount. No one else would be able to notice it, but I do and I hate it. What did he do to the ceviche? He’s not going to eat it, is he? He hasn’t yet. I’ve been watching him more than theothers. I don’t care about the others. I don’t care about anyone else in this room, in this house, in this state, just Crue. I can’t let anything happen to him. Not before…

Not until our time together is up. It’s already limited enough.

My stomach pangs with worry,nothunger. I can’t even think about eating right now. Not when I have to keep such a close eye on Crue.

I wish I never told him about Ryan. It’s not worth it. Ryan’s not worth it. I don’t even care what he did, not anymore. I’d swim in front of him a hundred more times if it meant Crue wasn’t in danger.

Why is he in danger? What did he do?

Crue puts a fish-covered chip up to his mouth.

Instinctively, I throw a hand out. “No!”

Everyone pauses to blink at me.

“Don’t eat it all. I changed my mind. I’d like to try some, too.”

Crue’s eyes widen at me and he shakes his head minutely.

I tilt mine back at him.

Ryan rushes to my other side, spooning ceviche next to my chicken breast.

“Miss Munreaux, I’m honored to—”

Crue pushes to his feet, towering over me. And Ryan. He’s tall and the chef is not.

“You hate citrus.”

“So?” I counter while staring at the chopped fish, onion, and cilantro, wishing it didn’t smellsomuch like lime juice.

“So why even bother? You know you’re gonna hate it.”

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