Her Obsession (by Sheridan Hartin) novel Chapter 30

Stay.

She ate in silence, but I watched her like a hawk. Each bite she took felt like a goddamn victory. The girl who bled for me, who stalked me, who broke into my home many times and made me food, left bullets and lipstick on my pillows, who killed for me. Now wearing my shirt, sitting in my kitchen like she belonged in it. Hair still damp, sticking to her neck, legs bare, her body smaller than I remembered when she was up on that roof playing god with a rifle and yet… there was nothing fragile about her.

“You good?” I asked, voice low, like talking too loud might scare her off again.

She nodded, barely. “It’s good. Thank you.”

I leaned back against the counter, arms crossed, pretending not to track the way her fingers wrapped around the fork or how her mouth pressed into a tight line between bites like she didn’t trust the food to stay in her stomach. Or me to stay in the room.

“You don’t have to keep looking at me like I’m gonna vanish,” she muttered without looking up.

“You’ve done it before.”

“That was different.”

“Was it?”

That made her pause. Her fork hovered mid-air, then dropped gently onto the plate with a quiet clink. Her eyes finally met mine.

“People who care get people killed,” she said. Flat. Final. Like it was law.

I pushed off the counter, walked over, and dropped into the chair across from her.

“People who stay also fight,” I said. “And you’re a fighter, Sage. So let’s not pretend you’re running just to keep me safe.”

Her jaw tensed.

“You’re running because you’re scared of what happens when someone gives a damn about you.”

That hit something. Her eyes flickered. The room felt too small, too quiet. The tension between us wasn’t sharp anymore, it was slow, crawling, thick as smoke,

“I’m not used to this,” she said, barely audible, “You. This place. The quiet. Not like this.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not used to ghosts falling out of the sky into my life either,” I said with a crooked grin. “But here we are.”

Her lips twitched. Almost a smile. But then she looked down, her fingers curling around the edge of the plate like she needed something to hold on to. I reached across the table and gently tapped her wrist with two fingers. She looked up again, slower this time.

“You don’t have to run tonight. You earned the right to breathe here for a second.”

Another beat of silence passed. Her hand relaxed under mine.

“Okay,” she whispered.

‘Why me, though?” I asked, letting the words roll out slow. Out of all the people in this world you could’ve gone and obsessed over, why me?”

Her fork stilled on the plate, eyes flicking up like she wanted to burn through me with a single glance. But it didn’t land the way she wanted. Not this time.

‘I’m not obsessed,” she snapped, too fast.

1/3

7:58 pm P PDD.

Stay.

I smirked and leaned forward, elbows on the table, watching the flush creep up her neck. Gotcha. “Oh really? Then what should we call it?”

She narrowed her eyes at me. A job.”

“Bullshit.” I tilted my head. This wasn’t just business, ghost. You don’t throw yourself into gunfire for a paycheck. You don’t rip apart the Bratva’s surveillance ring and paint a target on your back for ‘just a job.’ You don’t bleed out on my rooftop and wake up in my bed wearing my shirt if it was just business.

She looked like she wanted to argue. Her lips parted, then shut again. Her jaw ticked. I could see the battle happening behind those sharp green eyes, instinct to vanish, to deflect, to bury anything real under layers of sarcasm and control.

I leaned in even closer, voice lowering. “So, I’ll ask again… why me?”

Her throat bobbed. She looked down at her plate for a second too long before finally answering.

the

“Because…” she said, voice quieter, like it hurt to admit, “You were the first person who saw through the static. All the lies, the masks, I watched you pull people apart with just a glance. You were always ten steps ahead. And then one day you looked right at the cameras I was hiding behind, and it felt like you saw me. Like you knew I was there. And you didn’t flinch.”

I didn’t move. I couldn’t. My chest tightened. She met my eyes again, softer this time. Raw.

“You weren’t afraid of the ghost. You watched her.”

Silence stretched long between us, heavy but not uncomfortable. The kind that meant something.

I sat back slowly, my smirk fading into something more serious. “Damn, Sage,” I murmured, “That almost sounded like a confession.”

“Don’t get cocky.”

I chuckled under my breath. “Too late for that.”

Her lip curled, amused and annoyed all at once.

“You’re trouble,” she muttered, shaking her head.

“And you like trouble,” I fired back.

She didn’t deny it. Her eyes dropped again, fingers idly running along the rim of the plate. I could see it in her, the shift. The walls hadn’t dropped, not fully, but they’d cracked. Just enough. I let the silence sit for a second before breaking it. “You know,” I said, voice low, “when I saw you fall off that roof, 1 felt everything go quiet inside me. Like the world paused just long enough to ask if I could live without you. I think I’d really miss the bloodied gifts and surprise dinners with my men knocked out and locked in the pantry.”

She didn’t look up, but her hand stilled.

“I ran to you like a madman,” I continued. “Didn’t care who was still shooting. Didn’t care what got in my way. Just needed to get to you. And when I did, you were so still. Too still.”

She whispered, “I didn’t mean to fall.”

“I know.” I exhaled slowly. “But you did. And I caught you. And I’m not letting go. So whatever you’re planning, the escape routes you’re already mapping out in your head, the new names you’re thinking about running to, I’m telling you now: don’t.”

Her jaw clenched, but she still didn’t meet my gaze.

“I’ve never had anyone fight for me the way you did,” I said. “Not like that. Not with blood on your hands and a sniper rifle at your side. There isn’t a lady in this world who’s gone to such extremes.”

Her voice cracked when she finally spoke. “Because you were the only thing that made me feel real.”

2/3

7:58 pm p p DD.

Stay.

P

That hit harder than any bullet. I swallowed thickly, pushing my chair back and rounding the table. I crouched in front of her and gently took her hand.

“Sage,” I said, and her eyes finally met mine. “You don’t have to disappear anymore. Not with me.”

She looked at me like she wanted to believe that. Like she wanted to fall forward but didn’t know if she’d land safely.

I gave her hand a small squeeze. “Stay. Just… stay.”

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8:03 pm P P DD

Her Obsession.