Page 38 of I See You

"I’ll see you later," she whispered, her voice low, seductive, confident.

Hassan didn’t stop, didn’t look back, just walked out without breaking stride.

He didn’t care about her. Not emotionally. Never had.

But he hoped using her would help get Sevyn out of his damn mind.

???

Night had come faster than expected, and despite handling business and spending hours tangled up with Nova, Sevyn was still in his fucking head. It pissed him off. No woman had ever occupied his mind like this, and the fact that she did—without even trying—fueled his frustration. He needed answers, and there was only one person who could give them to him.

Hassan banged on Harper’s front door, his patience already running thin. His gut had been screaming at him all day, telling him something wasn’t right about the way Harper had set him up to walk into Sevyn’s office. His grandmother and Harper had always been on his ass about therapy, always pushing him to heal from the demons he carried, but if Harper had really blindsided him, used Sevyn to try to manipulate him into counseling, he didn’t know if he could forgive her for that shit.

He banged harder, his jaw clenching, his chest tight.

The door swung open to reveal Harper, her face twisted into a hard mug, clearly pissed off at being woken up. The scarf on her head and the silk pajama set she had on told him she had been deep in sleep. It was two in the morning, but Hassan didn’t give a fuck.

"Hassan, what the fuck—" she started, but he pushed past her into the house without waiting for an invite, making her sigh heavily as she shut the door behind him.

"What are you doing here, San? It’s late as fuck." Her irritation was clear, but he ignored it.

"What was that shit you pulled earlier?" His voice was low, calm, but there was an edge to it, sharp with frustration.

Harper gave him a confused look, her brows pulling together. "Nigga, what are you talking about?"

"You and your fucking friend."

He was trying to keep his anger at bay, trying not to spazz on her, but the more she played dumb, the more it boiled.

Harper stared at him for a second, blinking, still looking genuinely confused, which only pissed him off more.

"Harper, don’t piss me off." His voice remained calm, but his eyes? They were storming.

Harper knew that look—had seen it before. She could tell he was holding back, and now she was wondering what the hell Sevyn had told him to get him this riled up.

Her plan hadn’t worked—she knew that much. But seeing this much emotion from Hassan, even though his eyes still carried their usual cold detachment, made her wonder what the hell had actually gone down between him and Sevyn.

But she had to keep playing stupid—to protect herself and Sevyn. "I really don’t know what the fuck you talking about, San. I just needed you to deliver something for me." Harper’s voice was steady, herfaceunreadable,butHassanwasn’tbuyingit.Herubbedhis hands down his face, inhaling deeply, frustration clawing at his chest. Harperwasn’tcracking,wasn’tslipping,andthelongersheheld firm, the more he started to question himself. Maybe he was tripping. Maybe this really was just an errand. But then why the fuck was Sevyn stillin his head?

No woman had ever pulled this much from him. No one had ever left an imprint strong enough to linger. Women came and went, their faces blurring into the background of his life, never important enough to remember. But her? She had said only three fucking words, and they had buried themselves inside him like a bullet that refused to exit.

"You’re not broken."

It wasn’t what she said, it was how she said it. Like she meant it. Like she saw something inside him that even he didn’t recognize. Like she believed it, even when she didn’t know a damn thing about him. It moved something in him, and nothing—no one—moved anything in Hassan. That’s what pissed him off the most. That’s why he was here, pushing up on Harper in the middle of the damn night, looking for a reason, a sign, anything that explained why the fuck he couldn’t shake her.

"Forget it, mane." His voice was low, edged in irritation as he turned toward the door, ready to leave this shit alone.

But Harper stopped him, stepping into his space, her sharp gaze locked onto his like she was trying to read his thoughts. "What the fuck did she say to you?"

Hassan tensed, his expression darkening. He wouldn’t let her see it, wouldn’t let her dig into whatever the hell was going on inside him. Thinking about Sevyn’s words brought something close to emotion, and emotions made him vulnerable. Vulnerability made him weak, and weakness wasn’t in his DNA.

"Nun… I’m trippin’."

He moved past her, pushing out the door before she could press further. He needed to get the fuck out of here, needed air, space, something to get his head right. But even as he slid into his car and gripped the wheel, his body tense, his jaw locked, he knew what the problem was.

No amount of business, no amount of sex, no amount of confrontation was gonna pull her out of his head. And that? That was the real problem. Because Hassan Gaines didn’t do attachment. He didn’t do obsession. He didn’t do feelings. He needed to smoke. So, he hoped his strong, potent weed did the trick.

The second he walked into his large, quiet home, the silence wrapped around him like a heavy cloak, but it did nothing to quiet his mind. He moved upstairs, stripping out of his clothes, stepping under the scorching spray of the shower, letting the heat sear into his skin, but not even that burned away the thoughts that were clawing at him. He dried off quickly, pulling on a pair of sweats before heading out ontohisbalcony, hisusualescape, theplacewhere thecitylights stretched out before him and the smoke from his blunts carried his demons away.

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