Belonging to You

Abigail's POV

I've never liked the sterile scent and stale air of hospitals. But after years as a nurse, I'd grown used to it. The smell had stopped feeling unbearable-mostly.

The locker room smelled faintly of antiseptic and stale coffee. With trembling hands, I folded my scrubs, a motion I'd repeated countless times. But this time felt different. Like I was packing away pieces of myself.

Who was I kidding? Maybe I was.

Tears pricked my eyes, but I blinked them back. I wouldn't cry here. I couldn't. I couldn't risk anyone seeing me become a sobbing mess.

"You did what you were told," everyone kept saying.

As if that helped.

It didn't bring comfort. Not when Daniel's face flashed in my mind-his wide, frightened eyes, his small hand clutching mine, and that moment the light went out of them.

The hospital called it "an unfortunate complication." His family called it "negligence." But to me, it was my worst mistake.

I could've fought back. I could've told them Dr. Keating was the one who barked the order and ignored my warnings. I had tried to tell him that the drug should not be administered to a nine-year-old.

But the truth didn't matter. The hospital needed someone to blame, and I was the perfect scapegoat.

I slipped my badge into my bag, avoiding the smiling photo. The woman in that picture had hope in her eyes. I didn't recognize her anymore.

"Abigail?"

The soft voice made me turn. Beth, Daniel's nanny, standing in the doorway. Her eyes were red and puffy, her blouse rumpled.

"He's asking for you."

My throat tightened. Last time. This may be the last time I saw him.

I followed her to the pediatric wing. Daniel's room was dim, curtains drawn. He sat up in bed, small shoulders squared, trying to be brave. His eyes were unfocused, but searching.

"Abby?" he whispered, breaking me in half.

My insides twisted. It felt like a vice was squeezing my heart. The tears I had struggled to keep at bay were on the brink of falling.

"I'm here, sweetheart." I sat beside him and took his hand.

"They said you're leaving. Because of me."

"No," I said quickly, voice cracking. "I'm not leaving because of you. The hospital made a mistake, and they're too scared to admit it."

"It wasn't your fault." His little jaw clenched with fierce certainty, fiercer than any nine-year-old should have to be. "I told them. I'll keep telling them."

Despite the ache in my chest, I forced a smile. "You be strong for me, okay? For Beth."

He squeezed my hand, his grip fragile but unrelenting. "If they hurt you...I'll hurt myself. I swear I will."

My heart seized. "Daniel, don't you ever say that." I cupped his cheek, guiding his blind eyes toward me. "You're going to be fine. You're stronger than anyone I know."

But guilt ate my insides like acid. Because no matter what he believed, no matter what the truth was, I was the one who pressed the syringe.

And this was my punishment.

Footsteps echoed in the hall, and I turned. Mr. and Mrs. Bentley Watts walk in, looking every inch the elite, rich enough to pay someone to breathe for them.

I sprang up to my feet, bracing myself for whatever was to come.

"You wretch," Mrs. Watts spat. "Do you have any idea what your recklessness has cost us?"

You'd think a mother whose child had gone blind would be in tears. But no, this woman right here was angry because the news of Daniel going blind was a 'taint' to their image.

The absurdity would've been laughable, if not for the guilt clawing through me.

I don't bother arguing with her. Daniel was right here. The child was blind, not deaf.

"Not now, Mrs Watts."

"Consider yourself lucky," Mr. Watts said coldly. "I would have had my lawyers serve you papers by now."

I swallowed hard. I should leave. If I stayed any longer, they'll say more horrible things. Things that would hurt Daniel.

I crouched beside him again, taking his hand. His face was still, like he knew he didn't matter much to his parents. And that broke me a little more.

"Hey, Danny," I whispered, forcing a smile. "I'll come visit, okay? Promise me you'll listen to Beth." He nodded. "Say it."

"I promise to follow Beth's instructions so I don't crash."

That was the Daniel I knew. Still cheeky, even when blind. The thought almost pulled laughter. Almost.

"Good boy," I said, brushing his hair back. "Goodbye, Daniel."

I have met many patients in my years of working here at Crown Hill Memorial Hospital. But this kid with Chronic Fatigue Syndrome had really stuck to me.

I turned to Beth. Her eyes were apologetic, like she knew I didn't deserve this. And maybe I didn't. But I couldn't fight these people. They were loaded. And me? I was just a down-on-my-luck nurse.

"Goodbye, Beth," I said with a tight smile.

And then I walked out. I didn't bother acknowledging Daniel's parents. They were-for lack of better words-assholes, and they could kiss my ass for all I cared.

With my head held high, I walked out the hospital doors. The hospital and their administration were in the wrong, not me. I won't let them see me sweat. They could all kiss my ass. I simply did not care.

*****

My ride home was the slowest in the history of car rides. On purpose. Anything faster than 35 km/h, and my palm would do that sweaty thing and my skin would go all clammy.

All I wanted right now was to curl up with a pint of ice cream, put on a sappy rom-com to cry my heart out, and well, figure out my next job move. Because LA isn't exactly cheap to live in and rent wasn't going to pay itself.

I knew something was off the moment I stepped into the apartment.

The lights were dim. Too dim.

Luke never liked the lights dim. And there was noise-a faint, breathy sound that didn't belong to the TV or the old ceiling fan that always hummed when it rained.

For a heartbeat, I thought maybe I was imagining it. Maybe the day had finally caught up to me-exhaustion, caffeine, and wishful thinking making everything blur together.

And then-

What the ever-loving hell?

Slap–slap.

The sound of flesh slapping against flesh. And grunting. And moaning. And Luke. And-was that Melanie, our neighbour's daughter?

I don't move. I don't make a sound. I just stood there, watching like a creep.

Was she seriously moaning like that? Was sex with Luke even that good? She sounded like she was really-

Oh my God. What am I doing?

I shouldn't be standing here watching my boyfriend and our neighbor's daughter screw on my couch.

My couch.

The one I'd picked out, bargained for, cleaned, and practically lived on through late-night movie marathons and takeout Fridays.

And that was what did it. Not the betrayal. The couch.

"What the hell, Luke?" My voice echoed through the room.

They jolted apart so fast they nearly fell. She scrambled for the blanket, clutching it to her chest, eyes wide like a deer in headlights. Luke froze, half-dressed, face draining of color as if guilt itself had sucked the blood out of him.

"Abigail-" he started, voice strangled, hands half-lifted like he could explain this away.

I just stared at him. At them.

The air was thick with the scent of sweat and betrayal. The faint lavender of the candle I'd lit that morning hung mockingly between us.

The whole room felt wrong-like I'd walked into a stranger's apartment, not mine.

Melanie looked between us, trembling, her mouth opening and closing without sound. Luke looked like he wanted the ground to swallow him whole.

And me?

I couldn't even find the words to match what I felt. Not heartbreak. Not grief. Just disbelief and a rising fury that it had to be on my damn couch.

Abigail's POV

For a moment, none of us moved.

The only sound was the soft tick of the clock on the wall-the same one Luke had insisted we didn't need. Funny how loud it felt now, marking every humiliating second I had to stand there and look at them.

I let out a short, humorless laugh. "What the actual hell?"

Luke flinched. Melanie fumbled to collect her scattered clothes, cheeks flushed with shame. There was fear in her eyes as she scrambled past me-fear that maybe I'd tell her father.

She didn't have to worry. I wasn't a tattletale. And most importantly, I didn't care. She was twenty. A full-grown adult.

If anything, I was just disappointed that the sweet, innocent-looking Melanie had the nerve to shag my boyfriend in my own house.

God. This was embarrassing. I felt like I'd just walked into a Telemundo novela.

"Abigail, I can explain-"

He reached for me, and I stepped back so fast the air between us snapped.

"Don't." My voice came out low, steady. Calm enough to scare even me.

Because inside, everything was vibrating-fury, disgust, disbelief-all tangled in a knot I couldn't undo.

"I can't believe this," I muttered, more to myself than to him.

Luke's mouth opened, but nothing came out. Just a useless stammer, a hand dragging through his hair.

God, he looked pathetic.

The absurdity of it hit me again-all those mornings he'd kissed me goodbye before work, all the late nights he'd blamed on deadlines, and here he was, tripping over his own pants in my living room.

I could have screamed. Thrown something. Broken every glass within reach. But instead, I inhaled slowly, the way I used to when I tried not to cry during fights that weren't worth having.

"Get out," I said finally.

"Abigail-"

"I said get out."

The words didn't rise in volume, but they landed heavy, leaving no space for argument.

He hesitated, then started gathering his things-his shirt, his phone, the jacket I'd bought him last Christmas.

As he stumbled toward the door, I caught my reflection in the window-calm face, dry eyes, steady hands. But underneath that stillness, something fractured. Not cleanly. Not quietly.

The door shut behind them, and the silence that followed was deafening.

I stood there for a long time, staring at the couch-the scene of betrayal still imprinted in the cushions-and for the first time, I realized I wasn't heartbroken.

I was done.

Just done.

I couldn't sleep here tonight. The rage would choke me before morning.

I reached for my phone and dialed the only number on my emergency contact list.

*****

"Are you sure you don't want to come along?" Trevor asked, grabbing his car keys from the table.

"Yes, Trevor," I said, rolling my eyes. "Now go."

Trevor and I had grown up together. He was like the older brother I never had.

When I called and told him about the Luke-couch situation, he didn't even hesitate to let me crash at his place. He almost canceled his plans, too-something about not wanting me to be alone in my darkest moment.

I told him I was fine. And I was. I wasn't about to cry over that jerk.

"You can order pizza for dinner. The fridge-"

"Don't make me kick you out, Trevor Wilde."

He grinned. "Okay, okay. À plus tard, Abigail."

"À plus tard, Trevor."

It had been our thing since high school-French goodbyes no matter the situation.

Once the door shut behind him, I exhaled and grabbed the pint of ice cream in the fridge. Mint chocolate chip. My favorite. I smiled. Trevor hated it. He said it tasted just like toothpaste.

I settled onto the couch with the TV remote, scanning for a sappy rom-com to end the evening the way I'd planned.

Then my phone buzzed.I grimaced upon seeing the caller.

Luke.

He had already sent sixty-two texts.

I groaned. Couldn't he just let me be?

I stared, my thumb hovering over the screen. I ignored it. Just like I ignored his texts.

I needed a distraction. A big one.

"Fuck it," I muttered, shoving off the couch.

*****

Minutes later, I stood in front of Eclipse, the bar's neon sign glowing hot pink overhead.

Inside, bodies swayed, music throbbed, lights pulsed. I wove through the crowd until I spotted Trevor's booth.

"Looking gorgeous as ever, Abigail," Chase, one of his friends, whistled as I slid in beside them.

"Thanks, Chase," I replied with a faint smile.

Jude and Parker, the other two at the table, introduced themselves, and soon laughter and clinking glasses filled the space.

"I'm glad you came out," Trevor murmured.

"Me too," I said, emptying my glass.

Eclipse was plenty of distraction. And I was here for it.

I scanned the room, gliding over the crowd of people. Some were dancing. Some were laughing at what their partners said. Others were making out in dark corners. Everyone seemed to be having fun.

And then my eyes landed on him.

A pair of chocolate-brown eyes across the bar.

He was beautiful-the kind of beautiful that hurt to look at. Under the neon glow, his cheekbones looked carved from marble, his lips firm but soft-looking, a faint scar slashing through his left brow.

The faintest smirk curved his lips, arrogance glinting there, like he knew exactly what that look was doing to me.

He had company-some man gesturing wildly beside him-but his eyes had already found me.

And stayed there.

They roamed over me in a way that felt like a touch. My skin tingled under his gaze, every hair on my body standing in awareness.

It was almost impossible to look away. But I did.

How could a stranger have that kind of effect?

Every now and then, I'd glance back-and every time, his eyes were still on me.

Other girls might've found it creepy. Other girls might have even left the bar. Other girls who caught their boyfriends cheating on them just a few hours ago would probably stay away from men-especially like him.

But me? His silent appraisal felt like a touch I wasn't ready for-but craved anyway.

When I looked again, he was gone.

A surprising pang of disappointment bloomed in my chest.

"Are you okay?" Trevor's voice broke through my thoughts.

I turned to him, forcing a smile. "I'm fine. I just need another drink."

Before he could answer, I slipped away toward the bar.

I needed something strong.

"A dirty martini, please," I told the bartender.

"She'll have water," said a deep, rich voice beside me.

I turned-and my breath caught.

Chocolate eyes.

He slid onto the stool next to mine like he belonged there, a slight curve at his lips.

"Miss?" the bartender prompted.

"A dirty martini," I repeated.

"Water," he said again.

The bartender hesitated, eyes darting between us.

"I'm perfectly capable of handling my drinks," I said, facing him squarely.

"I'm sure you are," he murmured, voice smooth as smoke. "But you've had enough for tonight."

God, he sounded just as beautiful as he looked.

I snorted. "Didn't realize you were keeping tabs on me."

"Well," he said, leaning in just enough that his scent-something dark and expensive-brushed against me. "You're not easy to ignore."

The air between us went taut. Heat pooled low in my belly.

"I'll have water," I told the bartender finally.

He smiled. "Good girl."

The words slid through me, all command and promise, and I knew-just knew-I'd found my perfect distraction.

Abigail's POV

I didn't remember how we made it through the crowd of swaying bodies or how we stumbled into the car. Everything was a blur-laughter, the thump of bass, the weight of his hand at the small of my back.

All I remembered was the room-his hotel room perhaps. Dim lights. His breath. The sound of my heartbeat pulsing in my ears.

Our lips met before the door even closed. It wasn't gentle-it was desperate, like we had just found water in the middle of a desert. The kiss was electric and the only time we broke apart was to tug our clothes away from our bodies.

Every brush of his mouth, every drag of his fingers against my skin made the rest of the world dissolve.

He tasted like whiskey and recklessness. Like a promise I shouldn't believe but wanted to anyway.

The next thing I knew, I was tossed onto the bed with enough force to make the mattress groan. He hovered above, his gaze dark and intent-as if he was memorizing the shape of me, the way I breathed, the sound I made when he looked at me like that.

I licked my lips at the sight. His shirt was off, leaving him in just his pants. He was all flesh and muscles. All danger and sin. So delicious to look at and so irresistible to look away from.

In the low light, I caught the inky tattoo winding down his right arm, muscles flexing as he braced himself on either side of me. He looked wild. Untamed. The kind of man who carried storms in his veins.

I should have stopped him. I should have stopped myself.

But the word should had no power here.

Not tonight.

It didn't matter that I had just lost my job. It didn't matter that I had just caught my boyfriend cheating. Nothing mattered at all.

All I knew was that my body craved him. Deeply and undeniably.

"Are you just going to stand there and look all night or get to action?" I looked up at him, a knowing smirk tugging at my lips-a silent provocation.

"Just drinking you in, that's all." His eyes swept over me, sending a fire down its path.

My face and neck flushed. "I don't think I have that kind of patience."

His grin widened. "I sure would make it worth your while."

He dropped to his knees making my throat tighten, and in one swift motion, he pulled me to the edge of the bed.

His hands gripped my thighs hard enough to leave bruises, prying them open. He lowered his face between them, close enough that I felt his breath against the thin strip of lace-the only fabric covering me from him.

He inhaled, long and deep, like he wanted to imprint my scent in his lungs. A low growl rumbled out of him, dark and primal.

I was indeed not a patient woman. I push up on my elbows, scowling down at him. I was already squirming and whimpering, needing him to touch me.

And he did. His mouth dipped but not to where I wanted it. He kissed my lower abdomen. Kissed my inner thighs. His lips were everywhere except where I needed him to be the most.

With a smooth move, he yanked my panties off, leaving me bare and completely naked before him.

I was already wet and dripping.

"Not such a good girl, are you?" He chuckled, his hot breath fanning my sensitized clit.

"You're going to make me beg for it, aren't-"

The last word never made it past my throat. In its stead was a loud cry of bliss as he latched onto me. I almost bucked off the bed if it wasn't for his strong hands clamping down on my hips.

He sucked hard, unrelenting and ruthless that my head spun. His tongue slid against me in long, unhurried strokes, flicking the hood piercing Luke had convinced me to get two years ago.

Every sound I made only seemed to fuel him. He groaned into me, devouring me louder, wetter, obscenely relentless. He sucked until my vision blurred, until heat coiled so tight in my belly I thought I would snap apart.

The next thing, he pushed a finger deep inside of me. My eyes almost rolled to the back of my head at the stimulation. My hands reached for anything that could ground me-the sheets, his hair, anything at all.

He pushed in another finger, thrusting and stretching me, leaving me panting and gasping for air. I was nothing but sex and sensation, as he sucked and licked and played me with cruel precision.

"That's it," His voice rolled over me, low and gravel-thick. "Be a good girl and come for me."

That was all it took.

My entire body spasmed as my orgasm ripped through me. Wave after wave, it crashed, leaving me completely spent that all I could do was lie limply underneath him.

His throaty growl of satisfaction vibrated against me.

"You did so good." He kissed my inner thighs and rose to his feet.

His fingers fumbled through his pockets-probably searching for a condom-and cursed under his breath when he found them empty.

"Be right back," he muttered, disappearing in the direction of the bathroom. "Stay put."

I might have, if a wave of post-orgasm clarity hadn't slammed into me.

What the hell was I doing?

*****

Christian's POV

The sound of gloves meeting flesh echoed in the boxing ring-sharp, rhythmic, grounding. It was supposed to help me focus. It usually did.

Not today.

Sweat slid down my temple, stinging my eyes, but it wasn't what was clouding my vision. I threw a lazy jab, missed the timing completely, and a second later, Miles's glove connected squarely with my jaw. Not hard enough to hurt-just enough to remind me I wasn't here.

"Jesus, Chris." Miles backed off a step, breathing heavy and sounding annoyed. "You're getting your ass handed to you and you're not even trying to stop it."

I shook my head, spitting the taste of metal from my mouth. "I'm fine."

"Yeah? You don't look it."

He was right. I had tried to convince myself that it was nothing. But it was something.

It was her.

I met her at Eclipse two weeks ago. She was clad in that fuckable dress, her lips were painted crimson red and her ginger hair was just begging to be fisted. I had everything planned out and I thought we were both on the same page. Only for me to grab a condom from the bathroom and come back out to find her...gone.

She was just gone, leaving behind only her red lace panties-the same one I've been carrying round in my pocket like a creep.

Every time I thought about her, I'd get rock hard. And guess what? It won't get up even for another woman even if she stripped naked in front of me. It was like my dick had gotten a mind of his own. I didn't even get the chance to bury it in her-

Another hit came, this one to my ribs. I could've dodged. Should've. But I didn't. Air rushed out of me in a grunt. I stumbled backward and doubled over.

"Chris!" Miles barked, dropping his gloves. "You're not even trying."

I exhaled, slow and shaky, gloves hanging uselessly at my sides. My chest heaved more from frustration than exhaustion. "Yeah, I know."

He studied me for a moment, then sighed, tugging off his headgear. "You're thinking about her again."

I didn't answer. I didn't have to. The silence said enough.

I had tried everything to get her out of my mind-boxing, working till late at night, everything. But nothing worked. I could find any other woman to fuck, but like I said, my dick has gotten a mind of its own.

"That's crazy man. You don't even know her name."

Yeah. That was crazy.

I dragged a hand down my face, forcing myself upright again. "One more round," I muttered.

Miles gave me a skeptical look but lifted his gloves.

Maybe if I got hit hard enough, I'd finally stop seeing her every time I blinked.

Before I could step back into the ring, my phone buzzed on the bench. The sound cut through the air like a blade.

Miles leaned against the ropes, wiping sweat from his face. "Better get that before it drives us both crazy."

I walked over, unwrapping one glove with my teeth. The screen lit up, and my stomach twisted the second I saw the name.

I could've let it go to voicemail like every other time. But I didn't come back from London to keep running from this. I had to face it, no matter how much it burned.