Page 42 of Shadows of Obsession

When I finally turned back to him, the counters were clean. He'd just finished rinsing the last dish and was drying his hands on a towel, still facing the sink, his shoulders tense.

"It must've been nice, getting back from your deployment," I said lightly, trying to fill the silence. In my mind, based on what Connorhad told me, he'd come home to his fiancée. A homecoming. But when Jaxon froze, every muscle in his back tightening, I realized I might've been wrong.

Jaxon

"Anna, I know what you're doing." The words came out harsher than I intended, my voice slicing through the moment like a blade. I turned to look at her, knowing my eyes were hard, probably filled with disdain I shouldn't be directing at her.

But I'd been watching her all morning. I'd noticed how different she looked from that first day when she'd stumbled into my clearing. She was healthier now, more vibrant, her skin glowing with a tan from riding in the sun instead of that pale, sickly shade she'd once carried. Her blonde hair caught the morning light streaming through my kitchen windows, and when she'd smiled at my reaction to her cooking, it had done something to my chest that I didn't want to examine too closely.

She was beautiful.Dangerouslybeautiful. And she was getting too close, asking too many questions, making me think things I had no business thinking. Not after Nikki. Not with Connor's… whatever Anna was to him. Family. Sister. Off-limits.

She shook her head, confusion clear on her face as her brows drew together. "What are you talking about?"

"You're trying to learn more about me," I said tightly. "Make small talk. Become friends. But our truce was for Connor's sake—not to share secrets."

Anna gawked at me, those blue eyes going wide with hurt and disbelief. "Yes, Jaxon, I am trying to make small talk and learn more about you. But I'm not trying to dig up all your secrets." She shook her head again and reached for her bag. "I can't believe you think so little of me, that I'd try to pry into your life."

I stared at her, tracing the lines of her body and the tension in her shoulders, trying to gauge whether she was being sincere. Therealization that I'd overreacted hit me like a blow. My brows furrowed as I let out a frustrated sigh and raked a hand through my still-damp hair. I clenched my jaw, fighting the apology rising in my throat, one that already tasted like ash.

When I looked back at her, she stood there silently, waiting. Her expression was flat, calm—too calm. Like she didn't expect an apology. Like she was used to not getting them from men who'd wronged her.

That look, more than anything, made the decision for me.

Without speaking, I reached out my hand toward her, a hesitant gesture, an unspoken truce. "Come with me," I said quietly, my voice softer but edged with tension I couldn't quite hide.

Anna's gaze dropped to my hand. She stared for a long moment, and I wondered if she'd take it—if she'd trust me after I'd just snapped at her. Then, slowly, she placed her hand in mine, small and warm against my calloused palm. My fingers closed around hers carefully as I guided her toward the living room and down onto the charcoal sofa.

I sat beside her, my shoulders tight, the air between us heavy with unspoken words. The moment reminded me of those forced confessionals in therapy after I came back, the weight of revealing things better left buried.

I was torn, wrestling with whether to speak or stay silent, whether to open a door I'd sworn to keep shut. When I finally found my voice, it cracked slightly, betraying the emotion I was fighting to contain.

"I'm sorry for snapping," I said, barely above a whisper. "And I'm sorry for acting indifferently toward you. For how rude I've been."

"Jaxon, you don't need to apologize," she said gently, surprise threading through her voice. She hadn't expected me to say it—didn't think I would.

I shook my head, frustration rising, my movements sharp with the sting of my own inner conflict. "When I was deployed, I got called back home six months early. There was an emergency."

I paused, my eyes drifting to the woodstove, watching the cold metal like it might replay the moment for me. "I was engaged back then. We lived together. Her name was Nikki."

My chest tightened as I spoke. The words pulled me back to that day, the call from my CO, the leave orders, the endless flight homewith that growing knot in my gut. I knew something was wrong. I just didn't know how bad.

"Someone broke into our house and... killed her," I said, my voice trailing off.

I closed my eyes. My whole body went rigid, bracing against the weight of memory. The police tape. The detective's grim expression. The sheet over her in the morgue.

"Jaxon..." Anna said softly, her voice shaken. She hadn't expected that. "I... I'm so sorry. I know it won't change anything, but I truly am."

I gave a small nod, eyes fixed anywhere but on her. If I saw pity, just a flicker, I'd shut down completely.

"Connor's the only one who knows. I haven't talked about it since."

Silence stretched between us. I could feel her trying to find words, something to say. But there weren't words for this.

"I'm sorry I made you talk about something you didn't want to," she said, her voice careful now. "If it makes you feel any better, I'll tell you something too. To even the score."

That caught my attention. I looked at her, surprised. Her blue eyes were steady, determined, reminding me why I'd been drawn to her in the first place. That stubborn strength that refused to bend.

"I didn't want you to feel obligated," I said, my tone softer. Some of the armor cracked. "I just wanted you to understand why I've been the way I have."