Page 34 of Once Hidden
She dug her car keys from her bag.As she walked toward her parking spot, April couldn’t shake the sense that she was running away from something important—not just Ethan, but something in herself that she wasn’t ready to face.
April slid behind the wheel of her Honda Civic, tossing her backpack onto the passenger seat with unnecessary force.The car sat baking in the late afternoon sun, and she cranked the air conditioning to maximum before pulling away from the curb.Part of her—the rational, cautious part—felt relieved.She’d made the responsible choice.Study first, complicated feelings later.But another part whispered that she was making a mistake she might regret.
She drove down the familiar streets of Fredericksburg, past brick storefronts and historic buildings that had long since faded into the background of her daily life.Evening sunlight slanted through the trees, dappling the sidewalks with patches of gold.She turned the radio on, then immediately switched it off again, preferring the company of her own turbulent thoughts.
Her mother’s voice echoed in her mind—something Riley had told her years ago about instinct.“Sometimes your gut knows the truth before your brain does,” she’d said.April had taken those words to heart, studying criminal psychology and hoping to follow in her mother’s footsteps.But what did instinct have to say about this situation?About Ethan?
The light ahead turned yellow.April slowed, then stopped.To her left stood the Hyperion café, its large windows revealing the warm glow of pendant lights inside, just as they had two days ago when she’d met Ethan there after work.
The light turned green.April blinked, the memory fading as she accelerated through the intersection.That day at the Hyperion had been the first time she’d felt truly comfortable with Ethan, the first time she’d seen past his quiet exterior to the warmth beneath.
And then she’d gone to his apartment.The memory shifted, bringing with it a different set of feelings.Excitement.Trepidation.The surprise of discovering his artwork covering the walls—landscapes, city scenes, portraits of strangers caught in moments of unguarded emotion.
Then he’d shown her the sketches he’d made of her during his visits to the Brick House Beanery.They were beautiful, of course, but they also made her feel something else.
Fear.
Not of Ethan himself.He’d never been anything but gentle, respectful.No, this was a deeper fear—of letting someone in, of being vulnerable with someone new after everything she’d been through.The kidnapping.The nightmares.The PTSD that had taken months of therapy to manage.
Her vision blurred as she drove on past the Hyperion.This wasn’t just about Ethan.It was about her, about the person she was becoming.Her eighteenth birthday had come and gone, and high school was behind her.She’d survived trauma that would have broken many people.She was strong enough to face down her fears.
Maybe her mother’s instincts had rubbed off on her after all, because suddenly April knew what she needed to do.Molly’s words echoed in her mind: “It’s now or never.”
She didn’t want it to be never.
At the next intersection, April made an illegal U-turn, earning herself an angry honk from a pickup truck.She didn’t care.she retraced her route, driving the three blocks to Ethan’s building.
“Now,” she whispered to herself as she parked across the street.“It’s now.”
April got out of the car and entered the building and climbed a flight of stairs.Then she stood outside Ethan’s door.The narrow hallway of his apartment building seemed to stretch and contract around her, the worn carpet beneath her feet suddenly fascinating as she gathered her courage.She wiped her palms on her jeans, took a deep breath, and knocked—three quick raps that seemed to echo in the quiet corridor.
For a moment, nothing.Then came the sound of footsteps, a pause, and the door swung open to reveal Ethan, his amber eyes widening in surprise, a paintbrush still clutched in his right hand.
“April,” he said, a question and an exclamation all at once.
His dark hair was messier than usual, a smudge of blue paint on his forearm, a faded gray t-shirt spattered with dots of color.The smell of oil paint and turpentine drifted from behind him
“Hi,” she managed, suddenly doubting her impulsive decision.“I’m sorry for just showing up like this.”
Ethan stepped back, gesturing for her to enter.“No, don’t apologize.Come in.”He glanced down at the paintbrush in his hand as if just noticing it.“Sorry about the mess.I was in the middle of...well.”
April stepped inside, noticing the changes since her last visit.The living area had been rearranged, furniture pushed against walls to make space for an easel in the center of the room.Sketches were pinned haphazardly to the wall beside it.
“I wanted to apologize,” she said, turning to face him.“For how I spoke to you earlier.At the coffee shop, I mean.I was distracted, and I—”
“I should be the one apologizing,” Ethan interrupted, setting his paintbrush in a jar of cloudy solvent on a nearby table.“I promised I’d text you, and I didn’t.”
He didn’t elaborate, and April found she couldn’t quite bring herself to ask why.They stood in awkward silence, the air between them charged with unspoken words and half-formed thoughts.April shifted her weight from one foot to the other, searching for something to say.
“So,” they both began at the same time, then stopped, smiling.
“You go,” April said.
Ethan rubbed the back of his neck.“I was just going to ask how your day was.”
“It was fine.Busy.”She hesitated, then added, “I almost didn’t come here.”
“I’m glad you did.”
