Her Obsession (by Sheridan Hartin) novel Chapter 71

Domestic and Disgusting.

Conner

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:))

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I wake to the sound of fabric and quiet cursing. Sage is half out of bed, one knee hooked over the edge like she’s trying to rappel off my mattress with nothing but stubbornness and willpower.

“Don’t even think about it,” I say, catching her waist before she can slip free.

“I’m not thinking. I’m doing,” she mutters, prying at my hand. “I’ve rested.”

“You were unconscious,” I counter. “That’s not rest. That’s your body pulling the emergency brake.”

She twists enough to glare at me over her shoulder. “I’ve got things to do.”

“Name one that can’t wait ten minutes.”

“Rewrap the ribs you bandaged too tight, check the server logs, teach Nico not to cry during updates…”

“He cried once,” I say. “And it was allergy-related.”

She rolls her eyes and keeps wriggling. I slide up behind her and brace, mindful of the shoulder. “Little ghost, please. Lay back.”

“Conner.” She plants her palm on my thigh like a warning. “If you don’t release me, I will stage a very dramatic fall and you will feel

bad.”

I’m about to negotiate terms when the door slams open. Naomi breezes in like a hurricane in a stolen hoodie, curls wild, bandage peeking at her temple. Liam is right behind her, out of breath and wearing the look of a man who has sprinted after a feral cat.

“Absolutely not,” I bark as Naomi takes a running hop and launches onto the bed.

Both girls bounce. Sage hisses. Liam and I speak in the same breath: “Off.”

They answer in perfect unison, bored: “Relax.”

Naomi sprawls between us like a bratty little queen and props her chin on her fists. “Good morning, lovers. Cute pajama party. Sage, you look like a reanimated corpse. Ten out of ten: vibes.”

Sage attempts to sit up straighter; I put a hand between her shoulder blades and she lets me, barely. “Why are you here,” I say, “and why are you stepping on my recovery plan?”

“Because,” Naomi singsongs, eyes glittering, “I brought tea.”

Liam groans. “God help us.”

She pats his chest without looking at him. “Shh, muscle. Adults are speaking.” Then to Sage: “Do you know what your Irish idiot did while you were dreaming of knives and bad decisions?”

I tense. Sage’s gaze slides to mine, sharp and curious. “What did you do, darling?”

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14:12 Sun, Oct 19

Domestic and Disgusting.

Naomi doesn’t wait for me. “He did your marks.”

:

Silence pulls tight for a heartbeat. Sage’s head tilts. “My… contracts.”

“Mm-hmm.” Naomi thumbs her phone and flicks through photos she absolutely should not have. “Ari sent confirmations. All clean. All signed with your little calling-card flourishes. The lipstick, Sage. The casing polish? Nico, you nosy genius, you even spoofed her device signature on the proximity pings. I’m impressed and also offended.”

Liam tries for casual and fails. “I, uh, may have handled one of yours, too.”

Naomi snaps her gaze to him, smug. “Handled, he says. As if he didn’t whisper ‘for my girl’ over a corpse like a dramatic telenovela widower. Yeah, Nico is quite easy to pull information from.”

Liam points at me. “He did it first.”

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“I did not…” I start.

Naomi plays an audio clip at indecent volume. My voice comes out of her phone low and clear: “This is from my girl.”

Sage blinks once. Twice. A slow, dangerous smile steals over her mouth. “You sentimental bastard.”

Heat creeps up my neck. “It was operationally… motivating.”

“Uh-huh,” Naomi says, delighted. “And operationally stupid. If anyone had been listening you both would’ve had matching toe tags.”

Sage looks from Naomi to me, expression softening in a way that makes something in my chest loosen. “Thank you,” she says quietly.

I rub a thumb along her spine, careful of the wrap. “You’re not stepping foot out there, not until Matteo clears you. So I moved for you.”

Naomi flops onto her back, triumphant. “See? The tea.” She tips her head at Sage. “He also cooked you a ridiculous dinner and glared a hole through two walls when you wouldn’t wake up. Oh, and your severed-hand trophy shelf? He dusts it.”

Liam pinches the bridge of his nose. “We are not discussing the shelf again.”

“We are absolutely discussing the shelf,” Naomi counters, then winces and swats Liam’s reaching hand away. “Do not usher me. I am fragile.”

“You are chaos,” he says, but he looks stupidly fond when he says it.

Sage nudges my wrist. “Alright. Update me. How many marks?”

“Two down,” I say. “Third tonight, staggered windows. Nico’s on comms for both runs. Matteo’s planted here; your doctor’s on standby. Ari’s… orbiting.”

Sage’s mouth tightens at the name but she nods. “Good. Then I’m getting up.”

I open my mouth; she cuts me off with a look that could disarm a bomb. “I’m not field-ready. I am chair-ready. I sit. I type. I make your job easier. Deal?”

I hold her stare a long beat, then sigh. “Two hours before you take a rest. Chair only. You so much as flinch and I carry you back.”

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14:12 Sun, Oct 19

Domestic and Disgusting.

“Bossy,” she murmurs, but there’s that ghost of a smile again.

Naomi claps once, delighted. “Field trip to the surveillance room! I call the spinny chair.”

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“You call nothing, and you’ll be lucky if Nico hasn’t barred the door by now.” Liam says, already reaching to help her off the bed like she’s made of glass. She smacks his hand and uses him anyway.

Sage slides her feet to the floor. I’m there before she wobbles, shoulder under her arm, steady as stone. She leans into me the tiniest fraction, just enough to be an admission.

Naomi eyes us both, wicked. “Look at you two. Domestic. It’s disgusting. I love it.”

I ignore her and murmur into Sage’s hair, “Slow.”

“Always,” she lies, and we both pretend to believe it as we head for the door.

“Oh and as much as I love this whole man clothes thing we’ve both got going on, Sage and I will need bra’s and underwear at some point. So maybe when you guys are out on your murder spree tonight you can pick us up some things?” Naomi says as casual as a wife asking for groceries from her husband on his way home from work.

I laugh, but I don’t throw the idea away. Sage does need some things here. Fuck, maybe I’ll just buy out a whole store.

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