Chapter 22
sat on the edge of the bed, clutching my phone like it held the answer to everything. My thumb hovered over Sebastian’s number.
Call him.
My wolf’s voice was soft but persistent.
No. I shouldn’t.
Call him.
I groaned, dropping the phone onto the mattress and dragging both hands down my face. The house was too quiet. My thoughts were too loud.
Why did I feel safer here — in Hardin’s space — than I had in my own home with Sebastian last night?
The question made my stomach twist.
Before I could drown in my thoughts any further, the door opened.
Hardin strolled back in like he owned the place, hair damp, shirt gone, gray sweatpants hanging low on his hips.
My mouth went dry.
Of course he had to come in looking like that.
“You’re still here,” he said casually, rubbing the back of his neck as if he wasn’t radiating dangerous male energy into the entire room. “Thought you’d have run home by now.”
I scowled at him, mostly to hide the way my pulse skipped. “Yeah, well, I didn’t feel like sneaking out like some criminal.”
He smirked, coming closer, and dropped down on the mattress beside me. “You know you’re welcome here anytime, right? I’m not about to throw you out.”
I rolled my eyes. “Yeah, because you’d just love for Sebastian to find me here and murder you in your sleep.”
“That’d be worth it just to see the look on his face,” he said, grinning wickedly.
I snorted despite myself. “You’re insufferable.”
“Maybe,” he said, leaning back on his elbows, which made his abs flex in a way I did not need to notice.
Focus, Rhianna.
“So,” he said, eyeing me. “Still thinking about calling him?”
I stiffened. “I wasn’t—”
“You totally were,” he cut me off, grinning.
I grabbed the nearest pillow and smacked him with it.
He caught it easily, laughing. “That’s cute. Think you can take me with a pillow?”
“I can try,” I said, swinging again.
This time he grabbed my wrist and yanked — not hard, but just enough that I lost my balance and toppled forward — right onto his chest.
For a moment, everything froze.
He was warm, solid, and far too close.
“Smooth move, Little Wolf,” he murmured, voice dropping low.
I scrambled back, face burning. “That was an accident!”
“Uh-huh.” He was still grinning like he’d just won something.
“You’re the worst,” I muttered, throwing the pillow again just to put some distance between us.
“You love it,” he teased.
I ignored that, folding my arms. “So what, you came back just to annoy me?”
“Actually,” he said, his grin turning mischievous, “I came back to tell you something. I’ve been thinking about what you said.”
“What I said?”
“About my mate,” he said, watching me carefully.
I tried to play it cool, even though my heart did this weird lurch. “Oh? And?”
“And maybe you’re right. Maybe it’s time I stop avoiding it.”
“That’s… good,” I said, forcing a smile.
“Why do you sound like you just swallowed a lemon?” he teased. “What’s wrong, jealous?”
I blinked at him. “Jealous? Of what?”
“Of my hypothetical mate,” he said with a smirk. “What if she’s hotter than you? What if she’s sassier? What if she likes me more than you do?”
I gasped, grabbing the pillow again. “Shut up!”
He laughed, dodging as I swung at him. “What? I’m just saying—”
I tackled him this time, more determined to shut him up — which only made him laugh harder as we wrestled with the pillow between us.
Somewhere in the chaos, I ended up pinned under him, breathless, his face just inches from mine.
My wolf growled softly in my chest.
Hardin’s grin faded into something softer. “You deserve better than this, you know.”
My breath caught. “Better than what?”
“Better than him,” Hardin said simply, his voice steady but gentle. “Better than someone who lets everyone call you weak and doesn’t even defend you.”
My chest ached. I wanted to argue — wanted to defend Sebastian — but the words wouldn’t come.
“I—” My throat felt tight. “You don’t understand.”
“Then make me understand,” he said quietly, still holding my gaze.
I swallowed hard. “I love him.”
Hardin’s jaw tightened almost imperceptibly, but he didn’t move. “Loving him doesn’t mean letting him break you.”
That hit too close. I pushed him off, standing quickly before I could cry in front of him. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
He stayed on the bed, watching me carefully, but he didn’t push.
“Maybe I don’t,” he said finally. “But I know what it looks like when someone’s hurting — and you’re hurting.”
I wrapped my arms around myself. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”
He nodded once, like he understood, then leaned back on the bed again. “Fine. We can fight with pillows instead.”
Despite myself, I laughed a little.
And for a brief moment, the heaviness in my chest felt just a little bit lighter.