Her Obsession (by Sheridan Hartin) novel Chapter 95

Her Obsession

Playbook.

…

Sage

The word landed in my chest and stayed there, heavy and warm, like a hand pressed over a wound. Family. I’d spat the word out of other mouths before, as an accusation, as a threat, but here it came like something offered, not demanded. It sounded different when Pa said it, not tidy, not sentimental, just the plain promise of people who would stand and not let you fall. For a moment, I let myself breathe into that idea. I pictured a table like this one but quieter, faces I didn’t have to watch for danger, hands that reached to fix a jacket or press a kiss to a fevered brow, not because they had to, but because they wanted to. I saw Ma bustling by, calling out orders in two voices at once; Pa sitting with that slow, careful approval; Conner laughing, loud and dangerous, but soft when he looked my way. Naomi, grinning and cruel in the best ways, elbowing someone for taking the piss. It felt foreign and ridiculous, and somehow like a map I’d been missing.

Conner and Pa started to talk strategy, and their voices pulled me back into the room like ropes. Conner outlined the first moves: secure our comms, isolate Yakov’s handlers, put eyes on the supply runs I’d mentioned, the things I’d already named. He talked fast, grin shadowing into seriousness when he looked at Pa. Pa answered in short, measured sentences, cutting the plans into bite–sized orders: train nights and days, pick teams, watch the routes, don’t be heroes. They moved through contingencies like men reading old scars. I watched the way Conner’s hand never left mine, slight pressure, a steady anchor. I listened to Pa parse my words and stamp them with the force of a man used to getting results. The maps on the desk took on an almost holy shape, lines and dots that could mean salvation or blood.

My mind kept drifting back to the little, domestic things I’d pictured. Would there be a scalded pot at Ma’s elbow? Would Pa bark a curse over a burnt stew and then hand you the spoon anyway? Would someone steal your boots and hide them to get a laugh? Would I be able to laugh with them without waiting for the knife to come out? The questions were stupid, tender, and dangerous. I’d been trained until I forgot to want them. Wanting them now felt like an act of rebellion. Conner tossed a pen across the desk, and it clacked against a map. “We hit the comm hub first,” he said. “We blackout his sightlines. Once he’s blind, we can move on to the guys who run his logistics.” He folded his hands, eyes on Pa. “We train until our men move like ghosts, silent and precise. Sage shows us how. We don’t rush. We do it

clean.”

Pa nodded, the motion small but decisive. “We’ll start at dawn. Bring the lads. We’ll watch the runs tomorrow at noon. No one moves alone. We take small bites.” His gaze found mine then, and for a second, there was nothing but a hard, steady look that felt almost like

trust.

My throat tightened. “I’ll teach them,” I said. My voice was rough; it surprised me how little bravado rode it. I thought of nights in cells where the only light came from screens and the only warmth came from the rage that kept me moving. I thought of sharing that knowledge without the leash Yakov used to pull. The idea steadied me more than I expected.

Conner squeezed my fingers once, a small and private gesture. “Good,” he said. “We’ll build something else. Together.”

Family, I found, wasn’t a single shape. It could be a kitchen, a ring, and a plan on a desk by a fire. It could be bruises healed with bread and a hand that didn’t let go. The thought was new and terrifying and beautiful in a way I didn’t know it could be. I let it sit there, the idea of it dangerous and warm. Pa leaned back in his chair, the firelight throwing deep shadows across his face. His eyes flicked to me, sharp but softer than before, then back to Conner.

“You’ll want to take the horses out,” he said, his tone less command, more suggestion, though it still carried the weight of stone. “Show her the land. Let her breathe it in. Plans will keep, but a clear head won’t if you grind her down the moment she walks through the door.”

Conner’s smirk widened, like he’d been waiting for Pa to say it. “Aye, that’s not a bad idea.” His arm brushed against mine, deliberate and reassuring. “Come on, little ghost. You’ll like it,”

I blinked at them both, unsettled by the case of it. Relax? After spilling Yakov’s entire playbook onto their table? After confessing that all I’d wanted was something as fragile as love? It felt… undeserved. But Pa’s expression told me he wasn’t giving me a choice. He didn’t waste words, and when he said relax, he meant it as part of the strategy.

Naomi stretched, chair legs screeching against the floor, her grin sharp. “I’ll hold down the fort. Maybe terrify a few of your rookies while

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12:52 Mon, Oct 20

Playbook.

you’re gone.”

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Liam muttered something under his breath about “poor bastards,” and she smacked his arm without looking.

Conner rose, already tugging me to my feet. I let him, though my chest felt tight with something that wasn’t quite suspicion and wasn’t quite ease either. The idea of seeing the land, the hills, the fields, the freedom outside these stone walls, set something loose in me I hadn’t expected. And maybe, just maybe, that was the point.

Chapter Comments

Heather Sweat

6 days ago

love it thurth family is made

♡ 8

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