HIDE
SARAH
I find myself reacting before I can think.
“Cullen,” I hiss, my voice sharp and frantic.
I know he’s hurt. I know he’s not well... injured, weak. But right now, survival matters more than comfort. It’s better he’s in pain than dead. Right?
I pull him off the bed in a panic. He’s confused, questioning me with a look, barely able to keep up, but I don’t give him time.
“Get under the bed!” I whisper-scream, practically shoving him to the floor.
At the same moment, the door begins to creak open. My stomach lurches. I push Cullen under the bed and sprint for the door. I don’t know if he makes it. I don’t know if my father has already seen him. My hand lands on the doorknob just in time....just as the door begins to swing open fully.
“Good morning, darling,” my father says, his tone unusually cheery. He always has a brightness to him in the mornings, but this… this is extra.
There’s no tension in his face. No suspicion. Just a warm, amused smile.
“What’s going on?” he asks, eyes scanning the room behind me casually, though he sees nothing past my body blocking the doorway.
“Nothing!” I blurt too quickly.
His brow lifts slightly, a flicker of confusion, but the smile never fades. “What’s up with you?”
“Nothing,” I repeat, trying to steady my voice. “What’s going on with you? Am I late for breakfast? I think I just overslept today. I was gonna shower and come downstairs.”
“It’s okay,” he says, still smiling. “I’m spending the day at home with you today, so take your time. I’m waiting for you downstairs, We’ll have breakfast together.”
“Okay. Just… go,” I say, probably too fast again.
He raises a brow. “No good morning kiss for me? You seem to be in quite a hurry to kick me out of your bedroom,” he teases.
I force a laugh, too high-pitched and lean forward to kiss him quickly on the cheek.
“I’m coming right now,” I promise.
“Okay then,” he says, stepping back. “Just look pretty.”
I nod, laugh along, and wait for him to leave. I don’t breathe until the door closes again. Then, finally, I lock it behind him and let out the deepest sigh of relief. He hadn’t seen Cullen.
The moment the lock clicks into place, I press my forehead against the door and let my shoulders drop. My chest rises and falls in uneven breaths. My heart is still racing. My father hadn’t seen Cullen, thank God but that was a close call. Way too close.
I spin around, still breathless, and my eyes drop to the floor.
“Cullen,” I whisper urgently, moving toward the bed. I crouch down, lift the sheet, and peer underneath.
He’s there, crammed beneath the frame, his bare chest brushing against the wooden floor, his arms folded tightly beneath him. He looks ridiculous and uncomfortable, and in any other world, I might have laughed. But not now. Not when we just barely survived a disaster.
He turns his head toward me, his face slightly twisted in discomfort, eyes flickering with a strange mixture of guilt and amusement.
“That was… close,” he whispers.
“You think?” I hiss. “What are you still doing here? You were supposed to leave before sunrise!”
“I tried,” he says, wincing as he pushes himself forward a bit. “But I couldn’t move. I think I passed out.”
I sigh, reaching out to help pull him out. “You’re unbelievable.”
“I could say the same about your reflexes,” he mutters as he finally slides out. He grunts as he sits up, wincing again while holding his side. “You practically threw me.”
“You’re lucky that’s all I did,” I snap, but my voice lacks the bite it should have.
There’s a beat of silence. Then he lifts his eyes to mine. “Did he see anything?”
“No,” I answer. “But that doesn’t mean we are in the clear.”
He nods, slowly, as if trying to process what comes next. “Okay. I’ll go now.”
“You can’t,” I say, standing and peeking through the curtains. “He’s still downstairs. And you’re not even in the shape to climb a window right now. You can't live in broad daylight, especially in your condition.”
Cullen exhales and falls back to sit on the edge of my bed. I fold my arms across my chest.
Cullen looks away, jaw clenched. “I’m sorry.”
I took a deep breath, but he wasn’t done.
“I’m sorry,” he continued softly, “that I don’t regret it.”
His eyes flicked up to meet mine,
“I’m sorry that it made me spend more time with you than I thought I had.... I’m not sorry I got to hold you the whole night.”
I went still.
“And when I woke up in the middle of the night and I saw you, how you clung to me, how peaceful you slept… I just couldn’t bring myself to be sad that I was here.. with you....”
“My father could have killed you,” I remind him, more sternly than before.
But Cullen just shakes his head slowly, a faint, sad smile on his lips. “And I would’ve died a great death… knowing that you didn’t hate me. Knowing that I got to hold you.”
His words settled over me but I don't want them to.
“So, I guess I’ll regret some things,” he said, voice hoarse now. “Like...I’ll regret how I might die without having kissed you. Or how I would’ve died not knowing what it’s like… to be in a place where I could really be with you.”
He drew in a shaky breath.
“Where you were free. Relaxed. Where you trusted me. Where you told me your secrets. Where I got to know you, really got to know the woman you are.”
He paused, and then, so softly it hurt he added, “And maybe, if we are lucky, I would’ve died after seeing our kids. The children we could’ve had. How tough, how happy we might’ve been.”
I swallowed hard and looked away from him. “That’s just wishful thinking, Cullen. It’s not in the cards for us. Our families… they’ve already decided. This isn't working. My father will never agree for me to go back to you.”
Silence fell between us like a curtain. But then, slowly, Cullen shifted, letting out a low grunt from the pain as he leaned closer and reached for my hand on the bed.
“This is just me and you, Sarah,” he said gently. “Forget about my dad. Forget yours. Forget the Cincinnati’s. Forget your Sullivan's. Just… think about Sarah and Cullen.”
His fingers tightened over mine. “We can do this. I know we can.”
I froze.
Then, quickly, maybe too quickly, I pulled my hand away and stood up.
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