Page 98 of Hide and Keep

“Ryan?”

The chef is at the end of the hallway, half his body cloaked in shadows as he shuffles from foot to foot.

“Oh, hey.” He steps into the middle of the hall. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you. I just, uh…”

“No, don’t worry about it. I needed to get up anyway.”

I push myself up to standing and try to shake some of the grogginess from my head.

“Was she keeping you up?”

“I’m sorry?” Frowning, he comes a little closer, his body angled sideways.

Is that how I look to people when I’m hiding my scar?

I point at Ever’s door. “She was throwing a tantrum.”

“Is that what that was?”

“Oh, yeah, that was her. She was…” I debate telling him about the sensors I installed. Living in the pool house for most of his time here, he probably doesn’t know anything about Ever’s nighttime escapades. He wouldn’t understand. “She was pretty worked up. But I think she wore herself out, so hopefully we canall get some sleep now.” I force a light chuckle. I’m talking about a nineteen-year-old like she’s a toddler.

Ryan nods but lingers, his eyes shifting back and forth over my feet.

I go out of my way to avoid making eye contact with people, too.

It’s interesting to see the same behavior from the opposite vantage point.

“Do you mind if I take…”

Take? Huh?

I follow his gaze. Oh. Right.

“Damn, man. Sorry about that.” I bend down to retrieve my plate and utensils. “I was planning on returning these later.”

I didn’t realize chefs cared that much about the dishware their food is served on or else I would’ve tried harder. Maybe? Is it really that big of a deal to get them back right away?

Without making eye contact, Ryan takes the dirty dishes from me. He only speaks eloquently when he’s describing his cuisine, otherwise he seems to struggle to find the right words, making conversation with him kinda painful.

Maybe that’s why he’s so self-conscious.

I suddenly feel a bit of camaraderie with the chef.

“And Miss Munreaux’s?”

He pivots in her direction, but I’m quick to cut him off, putting my hands up between us in case I have to physically prevent him from getting too close to the door.

“Actually…I’d rather not risk setting her off all over again. You okay with her bringing hers down in the morning?”

“Yes. Oh, yes. That is…more than fine. I was only trying to do my part in keeping the manor tidy.”

It’s a little weird to consider that now, at this hour. I finished eating hours ago, and considering Ever eats like a bird, I’m sure she did, too.

Also, and I keep this to myself as well, Ever’s room is not exactly tidy. It’s not what I would consider dirty either, but there’s stuff literally everywhere—different colored rocks, cards with symbols I’ve never seen, shit with moss on it, a couple dead butterflies in frames. Organized chaos is the best way to describe Ever’s room.

“We all know how important Miss Munreaux’s beauty rest is.”

“Yeah,” I agree. If only she felt that way, she wouldn’t try sneaking out every chance she gets.

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