Her Obsession (by Sheridan Hartin) novel Chapter 121

Her Obsession.

I Hang The Stars For Her.

When I finally hang up, I drag a hand down my face and hand Sage back her phone. She’s already standing there, arms crossed and a smirk that says she heard every damn word.

“Se…” she drawls, passing me the tongs. “How much trouble are you in?”

73

I roll my eyes, flipping a sausage that’s somehow managed to survive Liam’s cooking. “Enough,” I mutter. “Ma gave me the full guilt trip, Pa just sighed in the background, and apparently they’re sending more supplies this way. Guess he figures if I’m too busy building, I won’t forget to call next time.”

Sage’s grin widens. “Supplies, huh?”

“Yeah,” I say, glancing around the yard where half the ghosts are already pitching tents. “With all these extra hands, we might get those cabins built up pretty quick.”

“And the food hall,” she adds, all innocence but with a glint in her eyes.

I chuckle, leaning down to kiss her forehead. “And the food hall, sweetheart.”

Behind us, Liam pipes up, clearly eavesdropping. “Wait–we’re getting a food hall?”

“Yup,” Sage says before I can even answer, grinning from ear to ear. “A big one.”

Liam whistles low, impressed. “You two are building a bloody village now.”

Sage smirks, looping her arm through mine. “Not a village. A home.”

I glance down at her, warmth creeping through my chest, and nod. “Yeah. A proper one this time.”

Winnie shuffles over, clutching a massive salad bowl like it’s a peace offering. Her cheeks are pink, eyes darting between me, Sage, and the crowd gathering around the food.

“Uh,” she starts softly, voice barely above the chatter. “Any chance of… maybe… a medical room?”

I cock an eyebrow at her, turning the tongs in my hand. “A medical room?” I ask, trying not to grin. “You planning on staying with us full time, Doc?”

Her blush deepens immediately, and she stares at the salad like it might save her. Before she can stammer something out, Nico slides up behind her, smirking like the cocky bastard he is. He grabs her hand, lacing their fingers without hesitation.

“Yeah,” he says easily, looking between us. “She’s staying.”

Sage’s grin lights up beside me. “Well then,” she says, wiping her hands on a towel. “Looks like we’ll need a proper medical wing too.”

Winnie’s smile is small but real, and she ducks her head, pressing closer to Nico.

I can’t help the laugh that slips out. “Alright then. A food hall, cabins, and a medical room. Anything else while we’re at it?”

1/3

12:30 wea, Uct 22

1 Hang The Stars For Her.

Naomi, from somewhere behind the grill, yells out, “Yeah, maybe a bloody spa next!”

Everyone laughs, the sound warm and easy.

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By the time the sun hits its peak, the backyard’s alive. Tables stretch across the grass in crooked rows, mismatched chairs and benches dragged from every corner of the house. The smell of grilled meat and buttered bread hangs thick in the air, and laughter rolls through it all like a song I never realised I’d missed until now. Naomi’s sitting cross–legged on one of the tables, passing out plates like she’s running the world’s most chaotic restaurant. Liam’s behind her, pretending to be annoyed but sneaking bites off her plate every chance he gets. She smacks his hand each time, and he just grins like he’s addicted to the attention. Matteo’s got Ari tucked close on the end bench, his arm draped over her shoulders. She’s pretending to be uninterested, eyes on the crowd, but every time he leans in to whisper something, that stoic look cracks just a little. When she catches me watching, she rolls her eyes, but there’s the smallest smile there too. At the next table, Nico’s animatedly talking with two of the younger recruits, one of them barely sixteen, asking questions about tech like it’s the most fascinating thing in the world. He gestures wildly with a fork while Winnie sits beside him, shaking her head but smiling all the same. Every now and then, she cuts him off with a calm correction, and he looks at her like she’s magic. The older recruits sit together, quiet but content, some still glancing around like they can’t quite believe they’re allowed to be here. The newer ghosts are looser now, the tension melting off them under the sun. I catch a few of them helping the kids with their food, laughing when the little ones smear sauce across their cheeks.

Sage is right in the middle of it all. She’s laughing at something Naomi said, head tipped back, sunlight catching in her hair. There’s still a scar just under her jaw, faint but visible, and for some reason, it makes her look even stronger. When her eyes find mine, she smiles, soft and real, and for a moment, the rest of the world fades to a hum.

She stands, raising her glass of lemonade, her voice carrying easily over the chatter. “To freedom,” she says simply.

It’s quiet for a heartbeat. Then Matteo lifts his glass, then Naomi, then everyone else. “To freedom!” echoes back, rough and uneven but perfect.

I lean back in my chair, arm slung over the back of Sage’s seat as she sits down beside me again. The kids are chasing bubbles, the men are telling stories, the women are laughing loud enough to shake the trees. The ghosts, the ones who used to flinch at every sound, are smiling.

I lean over, watching her as the sunlight catches the curve of her smile. The noise around us fades, Naomi’s laughter, Nico’s ridiculous story about the bubble wand, the kids shouting in the distance and for a moment, it’s just us.

“You look happy,” I murmur, close enough that only she can hear.

Sage turns to me, eyes soft, that familiar spark in them dulled only by peace for once. She leans in and presses a gentle kiss to my cheek, her lips warm against my skin. When she pulls back, there’s the faintest blush dusting her face, and she looks at me like I hung the bloody sun for her.

“I am happy,” she says quietly, her voice thick with truth. Then, even softer, “Thank you, darling. For everything.”

I don’t answer right away. I just watch her. This fierce, broken, beautiful woman who’s fought her way through hell and somehow still found a way to smile in the sunlight. My hand finds hers beneath the table, fingers threading together.

“Always, little ghost,” I say finally, squeezing her hand. “You deserve it.”

She squeezes back, that small smile curling again. Around us, the world hums on, warm food, laughter, the smell of firewood and grass and I can’t believe this is actually my life. Mine.

2/3

12:30 Wed, Oct 22

I Hang The Stars For Her.

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