Page 253 of Hide and Keep

“We know your ass won’t be picking me up. You just said so yourself.”

“No.” Smiling, she strides right past me, into the shower and under the spray. Hair wet, tits pointy, pussy distracting, she says, “But I’ll stay on the floor with you until you can pick yourself up.”

Thank fuck the water’s running, otherwise she’d be able to hear the sound of me folding all over again.

I remove my clothes just as quickly as she did, then I’m in the shower with her, turning her around so I can wash her hair because even when I’m at my worst, I’ll still put Ever’s needs before my own.

“You don’t belong on the floor.” I have the strangest urge to call her butterfly. I have no idea why. Probably because she’s being so sweet, unlike her bat-like tendencies. I just ignore it to add, “Your soul’s in the sky.”

She doesn’t reply right away, but when she does, it’s quiet yet serious.

“I belong wherever you are.”

I don’t bother with a response because we both know that’s not true.

It’s not until later that day that we leave the confines of my bedroom, coming across an apparition of Arthur Munreaux in the kitchen with a glass of cloudy liquid up to his mouth and what could pass as duffle bags under his eyes. He is the embodiment of ill.

“The virus got everybody then?” he says when we enter.

“Virus? Is that what this is?” I ask, playing along before I can start hinting at the real culprit.

“I feel fine,” Ever brags.

“Keep your distance if you want it to stay that way.”

She leans away from us, but asks, “Where’s the chef? I’m starving.”

“I don’t even want to look at food right now,” I say with a forced groan. I’m not exactly hungry but I wouldn’t turn down a meal either. Which is weird because last time I had food poisoning, I lost several pounds from not being able to eat for days.

“The chef’s unable to perform his duties right now, so we’re on our own. It’s a good thing none of us are hungry.”

“I’m hungry,” Ever repeats, getting zero acknowledgement from Arthur as he sips from his drink. “Probably because I didn’t eat anything last night,” she adds before shooting me a nasty side-eye.

I’d rather her miss one meal than wind up like the rest of us. Jesus, the manor even feels contaminated. The air around us is stagnant as fuck.

“Be grateful you didn’t eat the cevi—” My body rebukes the word before I can even finish saying it.

Arthur’s gag tells me his does, too.

“The ceviche?” Ever supplies with a gleam in her eyes as they lock on her trembling father.

“Yeah, that. It was disgusting coming back up.”

“The ceviche was?”

Arthur has to cover his mouth to hold back another heave.

She’s doing it on purpose now.

I flash Ever a quick secretive grin.

I don’t have quite the same reaction anymore, but I doubt I’ll ever be able to utter ceviche out loud again. I know for damn sure I’ll never eat it again.

“How did it taste going down? Since I didn’t get to try it.”

“It was…” I consider how to answer that. It wasn’t great. There was a distinct flavor to it that wasn’t normal. But I want Arthur to come to that conclusion on his own. “It wasn’t what I expected. Very different than the other times I’ve had it.”

“Different how?” Ever asks.

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