Chapter Four
Hayden
She might belong to someone else now.The thought sent anger through me so fast I had to sit with it for a second, jaw tight, hands still, every ugly part of me rising before reason could do a damn thing about it.
I had no right to feel that way. Losing her had been my own doing.That did not make the thought any easier to swallow.
She could have married. Rhodes could belong to some fucker who had taken the place I once believed was mine, waking beside her, hearing her voice in the morning, touching the parts of her life I no longer had the right to know.
Or maybe it was something else.
Whatever the truth was, one thing remained clear. I had found her again. The universe, with its cruel sense of humor, had dragged her back into my path in the same city, at the exact moment I had almost convinced myself she was gone for good.
I leaned forward, resting my forearms against the desk. I had not searched for her all this time just to lose her again. Maybe she hated me. Maybe she loved someone else. Maybe she had built an entire life to keep me the hell out of it. None of that changed the fact that she was here.
And this time, I wasn’t letting her fucking disappear without a fight.
My name opened doors. It always had. I had never needed to demand it, and I took no pleasure in the deference that followed reputation, yet years of work had built something people found difficult to ignore.
Publications, conferences, research projects that moved through academic circles faster than I ever meant them to.
By the time I contacted the rector of Ashcroft University, the conversation had already shifted in my favor before I finished introducing myself.
He sounded surprised at first, confused in the careful way administrators try to hide behind courtesy.
“Professor Stone,” he said during our call, the faint clink of a teacup reaching through the speaker, “I must admit this is unexpected. You have an exceptionally established position already. What brings you to a private university in London?”
I gave him the explanation I had prepared before making the call, speaking of academic collaboration, international engagement, and the chance to expand research initiatives through broader connections. It sounded convincing, even if it came nowhere close to the real reason.
My name still carried weight in the right circles, and Ashcroft moved faster than I expected. Universities rarely hesitate when a scholar arrives with funding, influence, and a reputation polished for every official announcement. By the end of the day, the position was mine.
Dean of the Faculty.
They called it temporary at first, although both of us understood how easily temporary arrangements in academia become permanent once the right people approve them.
That decision brought me exactly where I had meant to be since yesterday, behind the dean’s desk, waiting for the one person who had made London impossible to leave.
The moment the door opened, Edwina stepped inside my office and the air changed immediately.
Her breath caught before she could hide it.
The reaction was subtle, easy for anyone else to miss, but I had spent too much time studying her once to overlook the smallest shift in her composure.
The calm authority she carried during her lecture yesterday vanished for a fraction of a second, replaced by something raw and startled.
Shock suited her less than confidence. Still, I could not deny the satisfaction that moved through me.
Her eyes scanned the room quickly, as though she expected the scene to rearrange itself into a more reasonable shape if she kept looking.
It did not.
“Professor Rhodes,” I said calmly.
Her gaze snapped back to mine. The silence stretched between us. Then the disbelief surfaced.
“What the hell are you doing here?”
The words left her mouth before she could restrain them, sharp and incredulous in a way that might have amused me under different circumstances.
I leaned back slightly in the chair, studying her expression with open interest.
“What kind of greeting is that?” I asked.
She did not smile. Her eyes narrowed.
“Answer the question.”
I allowed the tension to linger for another second before replying.
“I came to continue where we stopped,” I said.
The name followed naturally, slipping into the space between us with the same familiarity it always carried.
“My little Flare.”
Her reaction was immediate.
“Don’t,” she snapped.
“Don’t what?”
“Don’t call me that.”
I leaned forward slightly, resting my arms on the desk.
“Why not?”
“Because that right doesn’t belong to you anymore.” Her voice had dropped lower now, the anger underneath it tightening every word. “You lost that right years ago.”
I watched her carefully.
“You really believe that?”
“Yes.”
The certainty in her tone was impressive. Also complete bullshit. A slow breath left my chest.
“Do you really think,” I said, my voice rougher now, “that after five fucking years of trying to figure out where the hell you disappeared to, after finally finding you on a stage halfway across the world, I’m just going to smile politely and let you walk away again?”
Her eyes flashed.
“You didn’t lose me,” she said, her voice breaking harsh and wounded. “You lied to me. Cheated me. Made me feel stupid for loving you.” She stepped closer, every word sharper now. “You fucking betrayed me.”
The word cut cleanly through the room. I didn’t deny it.
“You’re right,” I said. That answer caught her off guard for a moment.
“You hid everything,” she continued, anger rising now that the words had begun spilling out. “Your job offer. Your engagement. You let me believe—”
“I know exactly what I let you believe. And don’t think for a second I haven’t replayed that mistake more times than I can fucking count.”
Her arms crossed tightly over her chest.
“You didn’t make a mistake, Hayden. You made a choice.”
“That’s where you’re wrong.”
Her eyes narrowed.
“Oh really?”
I stood slowly from the chair. The movement immediately sharpened the tension between us.
“You think I pushed you away,” I said.
“You did.”
“I lied,” I corrected, the words leaving my mouth with a bitter edge. “And yeah, that was a fucked-up thing to do. Don’t fucking pretend it was that simple, Edwina, just because hating me hurts less than remembering what we were.”
“I don’t need help with that,” she said. “I already hate you. You made sure of it.” “Bullshit.”
The word struck hard between us.
“If you really hated me,” I continued, stepping closer around the desk, “you wouldn’t be standing here looking like you’re trying to decide whether to slap me or kiss me.”
Color rose in her cheeks.
“That’s not—”
“Don’t lie to yourself too, Edwina.”
She took a small step back.
“You’re insufferable,” she snapped. “Absolutely fucking insufferable.”
“Maybe.”
My gaze moved slowly across her face, memorizing the details I had spent five years trying to imagine.
“You changed,” I said.
“That tends to happen when five years pass.”
The sarcasm didn’t hide the tension beneath it.
“Rhodes,” I continued thoughtfully. “Interesting choice.”
“How many times do I have to tell you?” she snapped. “My life is none of your fucking business anymore.”
I took another step closer.
“You married him?”
Her expression hardened instantly.
“That’s not your concern.”
“That wasn’t a no.”
“Stop interrogating me.”
I let out a breath through my nose.
“You know what’s funny?”
“I’m sure you’re about to tell me.”
“I spent five years thinking I lost you because I didn’t search far enough.”
Her eyes flickered slightly.
“And now?” she asked.
Now. The word carried more weight than she probably intended.
“Now I’m standing in front of you,” I said slowly, “and I’m realizing something even worse.”
Her brows tightened.
“What?”
“That you actually thought disappearing would make me give up.”
Her lips parted.
“I didn’t disappear to play games with you.”
“I know.”
The admission surprised her again.
“You disappeared because you were hurt.”
Her voice hardened.
“You’re damn right I was hurt.”
“And you had every reason to be.”
Silence fell between us for a moment.
Then she shook her head slightly, disbelief returning.
“You still haven’t answered the question.”
“Which one?”
“What the hell you’re doing here?”
I held her gaze without hesitation.
“My name opened a lot of doors,” I said simply. “Turns out universities get very cooperative when a professor with my record asks about working abroad.”
Her eyes widened slightly.
“You’re telling me you moved here—”
“Correct.”
Her expression turned incredulous.
“That’s insane.”
“Probably.”
“You uprooted your entire career for this?”
“For you.”
The honesty weighed heavily. She stared at me as if I had just said something completely irrational.
“You expect me to believe that?”
“No,” I said, holding her gaze. “Not yet. Maybe with time.”
I stepped closer until the distance between us had almost disappeared.
“I expect you to understand it.”
Her breathing had slowed. Anger still lived in her eyes, with a familiar flicker beneath it now.
“And what exactly do you think happens next?” she asked.
I considered the question for a moment.
“I figure out whether you’re happy,” I said.
Her brows drew together.
“And if I am?”
My jaw tightened slightly.
“Then maybe,” I said slowly, “I’ll walk away.”
The possibility tasted like poison.
“And if I’m not?” she asked.
My gaze darkened.
“Then we start fixing the shit we broke years ago.”
She shook her head once, disbelief returning.
“You really think it’s that simple?”
“No,” I said. Another step closer. “I think it’s going to be messy as hell.”
The words settled between us with a weight that neither of us tried to move.
For a moment the office felt too small to contain everything that had just surfaced.
The air carried the tension of unfinished history, of questions that had waited five years to be asked and answers that neither of us seemed ready to give.