Desired By Three Alphas; Fated To One Chapter 234: Him

Hailee’s POV

Sleep wouldn’t co easily.

No matter how many tis I turned on the bed or how tightly I wrapped the blanket around myself, my mind refused to rest. Every ti I closed my eyes, his face appeared—Nathan.

And the thoughts I had about him weren’t the kind I should be having. They were warm, dangerous, and far too vivid for soone I was trying so hard to forget. After what felt like hours of tossing and turning, exhaustion finally won. My eyelids grew heavy, and I slipped into sleep, but it wasn’t the peaceful kind.

It started with a voice.

Soft. Familiar.

"Hailee."

My heart skipped. I knew that voice too well. When I opened my eyes, the world around shimred faintly, caught between light and shadow. And lying in front of , so close I could feel his warmth, was Nathan.

My breath hitched. "Nathan..." I whispered, almost afraid to say his na out loud.

He smiled, that slow, boyish grin that always managed to undo , that made sothing deep in tremble. His eyes caught mine, steady and unreadable, the sa deep green I used to lose myself in.

For a mont, I couldn’t move. The dream felt too real—the way his hair fell across his forehead, the curve of his mouth, the faint scent of pine and smoke that clung to him.

"This is a dream, right?" I breathed, my voice trembling as I searched his face for an answer.

Nathan didn’t answer. He only looked at , really looked at , with that sa unshakable intensity that had once made believe he could see everything I tried to hide. His silence said it all.

It was a dream.

But it felt real enough to hurt.

I swallowed, my pulse racing. The air between us felt thick, heavy, charged with sothing I couldn’t na. His presence filled the space around , and though I knew this wasn’t real, my body reacted as if it was—heart pounding, breath quickening, every nerve awake.

"Why are you here?" I whispered.

Nathan didn’t move. His gaze stayed on , steady and unreadable, though a flicker of sothing—pain, maybe—crossed his features. "You called ," he said softly.

My heart twisted. "I didn’t."

"You did," he murmured, his voice dropping lower. "Even when you sleep, Hailee, you think of ."

I wanted to deny it, to tell him he was wrong. But the words wouldn’t co. Because deep down, I knew he was right. I had thought of him—too many tis, too many nights. No matter how hard I tried to shut him out, he always found his way back into my mind.

He moved closer, until my body reacted instantly to the nearness. I could feel the warmth radiating from him, the faint brush of his sleeve against my arm.

"You shouldn’t be here," I whispered.

He tilted his head, his lips curling into a ghost of a smile. "And yet, you don’t want to leave."

I hated how right he was. The words struck sothing raw inside , and I turned away, refusing to et his eyes. "You think you know everything."

Nathan’s voice softened. "I know you."

That did it. I looked at him sharply, anger flickering through like a spark catching fla. "No, you don’t. Not anymore."

He didn’t flinch. He only leaned closer, his expression unreadable. "Then tell ," he said quietly. "Tell who you are now."

I opened my mouth, but nothing ca out. How could I explain the person I’d beco—the girl who still dread of the man whose heart she broke? How could I tell him that I hated him and missed him in the sa breath?

My throat tightened. "I hurt you," I said finally. The words ca out like a confession.

Nathan’s eyes darkened. "I know."

"You don’t," I snapped, the anger breaking through at last. "You think you do, but you don’t. I destroyed everything, Nathan."

He closed his eyes for a mont, and when he opened them again, there was sothing raw in his gaze. "And yet, I still love you."

His words landed like a blow. My breath caught, fury and longing tangling together until I didn’t know which hurt more. "Stop," I whispered.

"I can’t."

I shook my head, stepping back, trying to put distance between us. But he followed, every movent calm, controlled, as if he already knew I wouldn’t really push him away.

"Why do you keep coming back?" I asked, my voice breaking. "Why can’t you just let go?"

Nathan’s jaw tightened. "Because I can’t."

"Why?"

He hesitated. "Because you’re the only thing that ever made sense."

My heart clenched. For a mont, I forgot to breathe. His voice carried that sa sincerity that had once lted every wall I’d built. I wanted to scream at him, to tell him it wasn’t enough—but when he moved closer, I couldn’t move.

He reached out, his fingers brushing a strand of hair away from my face. The touch was feather-light, but it sent a shiver through . My instinct scread to step away, but my heart betrayed . I stayed still.

His hand lingered by my cheek. "I thought ti would dull it," he said softly. "This... whatever it is between us. But it hasn’t. Not for a second."

I swallowed hard, trying to steady my voice. "You think saying that makes it better?"

"No," he murmured. "But it’s the truth."

Silence fell between us, thick and suffocating. I could hear the faint rhythm of his breathing, could almost feel it against my skin. His gaze searched mine, and for a terrifying mont, I saw everything I’d tried to forget—the nights he held , the words he whispered, the promises that now ant nothing.

"You’re not real," I said again, as if saying it could break the spell.

"Does it matter?" Nathan asked quietly.

It shouldn’t have. But it did.

When his hand slid down to rest gently on my arm, the warmth spread through like wildfire. I wanted to pull away, to remind myself that this wasn’t real—that he wasn’t here—but my body didn’t listen. His presence consud , filling the empty space inside that I’d pretended didn’t exist.

"Hailee," he whispered, my na falling from his lips like a plea.

I looked up at him, my anger lting into sothing softer, sothing I didn’t want to feel. His eyes held mine, deep and searching, and for a second, the world faded. There was only us—the mory of what we used to be, the ache of what we’d lost.

"I left you," I breathed.

"I never stopped loving you," he said.

Nathan reached for again, but this ti, I didn’t stop him. His hand found mine, his touch firm but careful, as if he was afraid I’d disappear. The warmth of his palm seeped into my skin, grounding in a place that didn’t exist.

My heart pounded so hard it hurt.

"Every night," he whispered, "I tell myself I won’t co to you again. But then I close my eyes, and there you are. Calling without a word."

Tears stung my eyes. "Then stop answering."

He smiled faintly. "You know I can’t."

His thumb brushed over my knuckles, and I felt the tremor in my breath. Everything about him—the way he spoke, the way he looked at —was exactly how I rembered. It wasn’t fair.

"Do you still hate ?" he asked quietly.

I blinked, startled by the question. "I don’t know," I admitted. "Sotis I do. Sotis I hate you so much I can’t breathe. But then I rember how you used to look at , and it ruins everything."

Nathan’s gaze softened. "And now?"

Now.

Now, he was inches away, his breath warm against my skin. The distance between us was unbearable, charged with all the things left unsaid.

I wanted to push him away.

I wanted to pull him closer.

"Now," I said softly, "I don’t know what I feel."

Nathan’s eyes flickered, and for a second, I thought he might say sothing else. But instead, he moved closer, his forehead resting gently against mine. The contact was so light, so fragile, it nearly broke .

His voice was barely above a whisper. "Then let remind you."

I froze, my heart thundering in my chest. The world felt like it was spinning too fast, and yet ti seed to slow. I could feel the pull—his presence, his scent, the way his warmth bled into like a tide. Every part of scread that this was wrong, that it wasn’t real, but gods, it felt real.

I closed my eyes, torn between fighting it and surrendering. My body leaned forward without permission, my breath catching as our foreheads stayed pressed together. Every mory I’d buried clawed its way back to the surface—his laughter, his touch, his betrayal.

And then I heard it.

His heartbeat.

Slow, steady, real.

My chest ached with the weight of it all. I wanted to believe it, to stay in this illusion where he was still mine and I was still his. But the truth hovered like a blade between us.

"You’re not here," I whispered, my voice trembling.

Nathan’s eyes opened, eting mine with a quiet sadness. "Maybe not," he said softly. "But I’ll always find you."

And just like that, he began to fade.

His features blurred, the edges of his body dissolving into light. I reached for him instinctively, but my hand grasped only air. The warmth vanished, replaced by the cold sting of emptiness.

"Nathan!" I gasped, but he was gone.

The world tilted—then shattered.

I woke with a jolt, my chest heaving, the room spinning around . My sheets were tangled, my skin damp with sweat. For a mont, I didn’t move. My fingers were still curled as if I’d been holding him.

It took a long, trembling breath before I realized my heart was still racing, the sound of his voice still echoing in my head.

It had only been a dream.