Possessive
HARDIN’S POV
I don’t know how many times I woke up.
The hallway light buzzed faintly overhead, a steady hum that kept dragging me back from sleep every time I drifted off. My back ached from the chair. My neck was stiff. But none of it compared to the dull, persistent ache in my chest.
I stared at her door like it was some kind of shrine—like it might open if I just loved her hard enough from the other side.
But it didn’t.
Not once.
I stood. Sat. Paced. Sat again.
Every second felt like an hour. Every breath scraped my lungs like broken glass. I tried to tell myself she was just hurting. That this wasn’t really her—that the cold look in her eyes, the flinch when I reached for her, the venom in her voice… none of it was real.
But it was.
And I couldn’t fucking breathe.
By the time sunlight spilled in through the hallway windows, I was already standing again—feet planted in front of her door like a soldier waiting for orders. My hand hovered just above the doorknob.
I could hear faint noises on the other side.
Movement.
Voices?
Was she awake?
I reached for the knob… and froze.
What if she screamed at me again?
What if she looked at me the way she had last night—like I was a stranger. Or worse… like I was the enemy.
I let out a long, ragged breath and stepped back. My fingers curled into a fist at my side.
Get it together, Hardin.
I turned and walked back toward the chair, ready to sink into it again when I heard footsteps—brisk, confident, unfamiliar.
I looked up.
A man.
Tall. Brown hair. Broad shoulders. Designer shirt unbuttoned just enough to look effortless. He held a bouquet of pale lilies in one hand and a paper gift bag in the other.
And he was walking straight toward Ariana’s room.
My jaw tightened.
He didn’t even hesitate. Just strode right up to her door like he belonged there.
“Hey,” I said, stepping forward. “What the hell are you doing?”
The man stopped. He looked me over like I was a stain on his shoes.
“I’m here to see someone,” he said coolly.
“Yeah?” I folded my arms. “That someone better not be Ariana.”
His brow lifted like he couldn’t believe I’d dared say her name.
“I don’t owe you an explanation,” he said simply, like I was the one out of line.
I stepped in front of the door, my voice low and deadly. “You’re not going in there.”
His smile was slight. Amused. “And who the hell are you?”
“I’m her boyfriend,” I snapped. “So if you’ve got the wrong room, I suggest you turn around.”
He didn’t move. Just tilted his head slightly, and then said—so fucking casually it made my blood boil—“I’m here to see Ariana Miller.”
My stomach dropped.
Not because of his words.
But because of how sure he sounded.
Like he knew her.
Like he belonged.
Before I could stop him, he stepped around me and reached for the doorknob.
“No—” I moved to block him again, but he opened the door and walked in like he had every right in the world.
My pulse exploded in my ears.
I stood frozen outside the room for half a second—heart thundering, hands trembling—before I shoved the door open and followed him in.
And what I saw made my world tilt off its axis.
She was awake.
Sitting up in bed.
Smiling.
At him.
That same mouth that had told me to get out just hours ago… was now curved in a soft, easy smile meant for him.
“Hey,” she said, her voice gentle.
Gentle.
Not a trace of the venom she’d spit at me.
And then—like some sick fucking punch to the gut—he walked up to her and leaned down to kiss her on the cheek.
And she let him.
No flinching. No “don’t.”
I stood in the doorway like a fool, watching the woman I love come back to life for a stranger.
“Got your favorite,” he said, lifting the bag. “The weird stuff you like so much.”
She laughed. Laughed. And this time it wasn’t hollow.
Not bitter.
Not broken.
It was soft. Familiar. Real.
Like I hadn’t just spent the night outside her door waiting for a version of her that didn’t exist anymore.
She looked at him like he was some saint.
And she didn’t even glance at me.
Not once.
My fists clenched at my sides, heat rising so fast I could barely contain it.
“What the fuck is going on here?” I said, my voice low and dangerous.
Finally, finally, she turned her eyes to me.
But they weren’t full of regret or guilt.
They were empty.
Like I was the intruder now.
“You should go,” she said simply.
“No,” I growled. “Not until someone tells me who the hell he is.”
The man turned to me, folding his arms with an almost smug calm. “You’re still here?”
I moved toward him so fast the gift bag nearly fell from his hand.
“You think this is funny?” I barked. “You think you can just walk in here with your flowers and your overpriced shirt and act like—what? Like she’s yours?”
“She’s not yours either,” he shot back. “Not anymore, clearly.”
I turned to Ariana, my voice breaking. “Is that true? Is that why you pushed me away? Him?”
Her gaze didn’t waver.
But she didn’t answer either.
She didn’t deny it.
Which was somehow worse.
I took a staggering step back, the breath knocked from my lungs.
So this was it.
This was why she turned cold.
Why she shut down.
Why she looked at me like I was poison.
I stared at the man—at the smug confidence in his posture, the ease with which he stood in the place I used to.
And I couldn’t take it.
I wouldn’t.
Without another word, I turned on my heel and stormed out of the room, the door slamming behind me hard enough to shake the frame.
My chest was on fire. My vision blurred. I could barely breathe through the sheer weight of betrayal crushing me from the inside out.
Was I supposed to just accept this?
Walk away?
Forget the way she used to say my name like it meant something?
Forget the way she clung to me in the dark?
Forget us?
I paced the hallway like a caged animal, fury and confusion clawing at every inch of me.
Who the hell was that guy?
A friend?
A fling?
An ex?
I didn’t know.
And the worst part?
She didn’t even try to explain.
Didn’t give me a fucking second of clarity.
No “Hardin, wait.”
No “It’s not what it looks like.”
Just silence.
That same cold silence that had haunted me all night long.
I collapsed back into the chair and stared down at my hands, shaking with rage I didn’t know what to do with.
If she wanted to punish me, fine.
If I’d made a mistake, tell me.
But to act like I never mattered?
Like we never mattered?
I dug my nails into my palms, biting down on the scream building in my throat.
I wasn’t just jealous.
I was possessive.
Because Ariana wasn’t just someone I loved.
She was mine.
Mine to protect.
Mine to fight for.
Mine in every way that mattered.
And seeing someone else touch her—touch what I’d fought like hell to keep safe—lit something inside me I didn’t even recognize.
I couldn’t lose her.
Not like this.
Not to him.
I didn’t know how I’d fix this.
Didn’t even know what I was trying to fix.
But one thing was certain—
That man wasn’t staying in her life.
Not if I had anything to say about it.
Not when she was still the only damn person I saw when I closed my eyes.
Not when every cell in my body was screaming for her like a drowning man gasping for air.
I stood slowly.
Straightened my jacket.
And turned toward the door again.
Because no matter how much she tried to shut me out…
I wasn’t going anywhere.
Not until I knew the truth.
And not until I reminded her who the hell I was.
And who the hell we were.
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