Page 246 of Hide and Keep

Hours later, I’m waiting for Crue’s knock on my door, letting me know it’s clear to come out and follow him into his for the night, but it never comes. By eleven o’clock, I break down and text him, but don’t get an immediate reply. Twelve o’clock, I still haven’t received any response. Half past one, my phone is silent but I am not. I’m trying not to hyperventilate but it’s not working.

Did he eat the ceviche after all?

I text him again.

When he still hasn’t responded fifteen minutes later, I eye the door between our bedrooms. I haven’t had to use it the last couple weeks. I get to sleep next to Crue with his permission now. Technically, it’s at his insistence. He hates me sleeping alone almost as much as I do.

He could’ve fallen asleep, I guess.

But the timing is just too coincidental.

He wasn’t actually mad at me, was he? I did him a favor. I would never let him put himself in danger for me. He knows that…right?

I’m going over there. Hopefully, he is just asleep.

I slide the door in the wall open, instantly discovering he’s not. He’s up…somewhere. His comforter is thrown back like he had to rush from bed, so he might’ve been asleep at one point.

The toilet flushes in his bathroom.

Hustling inside his room, I close the door behind me, then dart away from it as I wait for Crue to emerge from his bathroom.

Except he doesn’t.

I venture closer to the en suite, hearing retching once I’m a few feet away.

Groaning, I close the distance and press my forehead to the door before whispering, “You did eat it.”

He still could’ve texted me back and let me know. I would’ve come over regardless.

Would he have let me?

Obviously not or I would’ve been here already.

I wouldn’t want him to witness me with food poisoning either.

Not like he’d listen. He’s done plenty of things I didn’t want him to do, like wash myentirebody. Every. Single. Inch. Including. Crevices.

The toilet flushes again, followed my more retching.

Tears blur my vision and I crumple to my knees, my palm on the door.

“I’m sorry,” I mouth, completely helpless.

I hate this. Ihatethis.

I hate Ryan. I hope he’s in worse shape. I hope they’re all in worse shape. Maybe not Edwin, but…I can’t really afford togive him any real thought. Not when all of mine are currently preoccupied with the man on the other side of this door.

Damn you, Crue Brantley, why did you eat the ceviche? He had an excuse not to. His plate was on thefloor. He could’ve stormed after me. He normally never lets me out of sight. Why did he stick around this one time and get another serving?

He risked himself. He…sacrificed himself, for me. Again. He did the same thing when he thought his room was full of enraged yellow jackets.

And all I can do is sit here, crying. A lot of help I am. A lot of help he let me be by keeping me out.

I still got in though and I don’t have to be useless.

I search up food poisoning on my phone and how to treat it, not finding as much as I was hoping for.

“Ugh,” I growl as I get to my feet, wiping angrily at my eyes so I can see what I’m reading.

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