Page 29 of Shadows of Obsession

I hesitated, unsure how much to share.

"Not exactly…" I said slowly, choosing my words. "Connor wanted me to pick up a few essentials while he's in town. He's having lunch with Morgan while I run errands."

Harper's expression shifted, barely perceptible, at the mention of Morgan. The vibrant spark in her green eyes dimmed slightly, her bright smile faltering for just a moment. But she quickly composed herself. Her perfectly manicured fingers, painted a cheerful coral that matched her dress, neatly folding my clothes into a yellow boutique bag printed with elegant script.

"Oh, I see," she said evenly. "I'm sure they'll have a great time catching up. Morgan's… something, isn't she?"

The slight change in Harper's usually bubbly demeanor didn't go unnoticed. Morgan seemed to provoke strange reactions, even from those who barely knew her, like me. Still, I let it slide, not wanting to press. Harper seemed to sense it and smoothly shifted the conversation.

"In any case, I hope you found some cute new pieces you love and will get tons of use out of," she said, her megawatt smile returning as she nestled the last item into the bag. "And don't be a stranger, okay? Us small-town girls have to stick together."

She winked playfully, and I smiled, genuinely touched by her warmth.

"I won't, I promise. It was so great seeing you again, Harper. Thanks for all your help today... I really appreciate it."

With a final wave, I stepped back out onto the sun-warmed sidewalk. The bell above the door chimed softly behind me, fading as I walked toward Jaxon. The boutique bags swung lightly from my arm, their bright colors catching the sunlight.

Jaxon was back on the bench, but he looked anything but relaxed. One leg bounced rapidly, his eyes scanning the street with restless focus. The late-afternoon sun struck his profile, highlighting the sharp line of his jaw and the tension etched there. Though his gaze was fixed on his phone, I could tell his attention was everywhere.

A breeze lifted strands of my hair, bringing the scent of my coconut shampoo into the air. Jaxon's head snapped up, nostrils flaring slightly. His eyes locked onto mine—sharp, assessing. For a brief second, he just stared, taking in the shopping bags and the residual calm in my smile. Then, his expression closed off, the familiar mask slipping back into place.

"You all set then?" he asked, standing in one fluid motion and sliding his phone into his pocket. The breeze tugged at his gray shirt, and I caught a faint whiff of cedar and soap, his cologne, now mingled with a trace of sweat.

I nodded and fell into step beside him. "Yep. I think I got everything I needed, thanks to Harper," I said, glancing over at him. "She was super helpful. And really sweet."

Jaxon grunted in response, his eyes already scanning the street, watching people, shop entrances, moving cars—everything. The tension in his posture was unmistakable. He moved like someone constantly calculating, always aware of the nearest threat. Whether it was pure instinct or long-ingrained habit, it radiated from him.

As we walked through a cluster of tourists snapping photos, his hand hovered at the small of my back. He didn't touch me, but the nearness was enough that I felt the heat of his palm through my shirt. It was a protective gesture, oddly tender, especially given how distant he'd been earlier. I wasn't sure what to make of it.

Before I could ask, he spoke in a low voice that barely rose above the hum of the street.

"We should get your phone and meet Connor back at the truck. He'll be waiting."

I quickened my pace to match his, the shopping bags brushing against my leg. A tight knot of unease coiled in my chest. Jaxon's heightened alertness was contagious, feeding my own anxiety. Had something happened while I was inside?

But Jaxon wasn't the type to offer answers freely, so I followed in silence, letting my questions hang between us. As we moved along the busy sidewalk, I found my senses sharpening, attuned to every laugh, every car horn, every shifting shadow. I was reading the world like Jaxon was—on edge, alert.

The phone store was efficient. Connor must've called ahead; everything was ready when we arrived. A simple smartphone with a sturdy purple case. Jaxon stood near the door the entire time, never crossing fully into the store, his gaze fixed on the street through the front window. The employee helping me kept throwing him nervous glances, clearly picking up on the same uneasy energy I felt humming off of him.

When we finally returned to the truck, Jaxon's tension hadn't eased. If anything, it had deepened. His eyes flicked left and right, sweeping storefronts, alleys, rooftops. Every movement was deliberate, every pause precise, like he expected danger around every corner.

The growing tension pulled at something buried deep in me, an echo of the fear I'd lived through with Daniel. And though I tried to shake it off, I could feel the edges of paranoia creeping in again, cold and tight around my chest.

"Why don't you wait in the truck while I call Connor?" Jaxon's suggestion was terse, his tone leaving no room for argument. His jaw clenched, the muscles in his neck taut with stress, that little vein at his temple visible beneath the brim of his cap. "I want to see how much longer he'll be."

I ground my teeth, frustration flaring at the suggestion. I was tired of being treated like I was fragile, a delicate flower that needed constant protection. I knew Jaxon was only trying to keep me safe, but his overprotectiveness grated on my nerves. It wasn't his place.

With a sharp nod, I climbed into the passenger seat and slammed the door with more force than necessary. The sound reverberated through the truck's cab, a sharp punctuation mark for the emotions swirling inside me.

Through the windshield, I watched Jaxon dial Connor's number. His free hand rubbed the back of his neck, a sign he was truly wound up. His eyes swept the street with the same restless energy I'd seen all day, like he expected trouble to step out of the shadows at any moment. I couldn't hear his voice through the closed door, but the hard set of his mouth and the rigidity in his posture told me enough.

When he ended the call and slid into the driver's seat, he gripped the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles turned white. The cab seemed to shrink with his presence. His cedar scent thicker now, mixing with the leather interior and something sharper beneath it: sweat, adrenaline, unease.

I couldn't hold my tongue any longer.

"Why are you acting like we're in imminent danger? It's broad daylight, and we're in the middle of town," I snapped, the heat of my own anxiety mingling with his, sparking into something volatile.

Jaxon didn't flinch. His gaze shifted toward me, those intense blue eyes steady and unreadable.