Page 60 of Hidden

My eyes snapped back to hers, and whatever she saw on my face must have frightened her, because she took an involuntary step forward before catching herself, her hands lifting uselessly in front of her as though she didn’t know whether to reach for me or push me away.

All at once, every little thing I had been trying not to make too much of came crashing together with enough force to leave me reeling. The rally. The bruises. Her mother. The way she had looked at me through the glass. The way she had touched me and then retreated, like she was tearing herself in half to do it. The way she was standing there now, pale and tense and terrified, with a locked door between her and the outside world.

A fucking balcony.

A room with a view.

Pretty curtains. Soft lights. A nice fucking cage.

“Why is it locked?” I demanded, the words coming out harsher than I meant them to, but there was no room left in me for softness now, not when every instinct I had was screaming.

Her eyes widened further, and she shook her head again, more violently now, mouthing something I couldn’t hear through the glass.

I didn’t need to hear it.

I knew exactly what she was trying to say.

Stop. Go. Leave.

But all I could think was,why?

Why the fuck was she trying so hard to keep me out?

Why was she still doing this?

My palm hit the glass harder this time, the sound echoing into the night.

“Why won’t you let me in?” I hissed, my voice low and furious, my breath fogging the pane between us. “Why the fuck don’t you trust me?”

Her face crumpled for a split second before she forced it still again, and that nearly undid me more than anything else had.

She looked hurt. And that didn’t make sense. She’d pushed me away!

None of it made any fucking sense.

“You trusted me once,” I said, the words leaving me before I could stop them, raw and jagged and pulled straight from somewhere old enough to bleed. “You used to come to me when things went wrong. You used to let me save you, so why not now? Why not now, Gabby?”

Tears sprang into her eyes so quickly it felt like being punched.

And just like that, I was sixteen again.

Sixteen and furious and terrified and finding her where she should never have been, her mascara smudged and her handsshaking and her eyes going soft with relief the second she saw me.

The memory hit so hard it almost made me stagger.

And before I could stop myself, before reason or caution or common fucking sense could catch up, my fist slammed against the glass.

Once.

Twice.

Hard enough to sting.

“Talk to me!” I snapped, the desperation in my voice far uglier than the anger. “For once in your life, stop pushing me away and just—”

She startled violently, looking over her shoulder so fast it made my pulse spike, and then she turned back to me with something so close to panic on her face that it cut straight through every other emotion in me like a knife.

That was the moment.