Page 50 of Shadows of Obsession

"Yeah, but he's never going to see it if he keeps making excuses for her," she muttered, annoyance sharpening her tone. "And I'm left feeling like I'm beating my head against a brick wall trying to get through to him."

"That sounds exhausting," I replied, empathy softening my voice. "But maybe he just needs time. He'll come around eventually. Especially when he realizes you're only trying to look out for him."

A glimmer of hope flickered in Harper's eyes as she nodded.

"Yeah, maybe," she conceded, her voice a bit lighter. "It's just hard, you know? Connor's been my friend for so long, and seeing him make the wrong choices hurts."

I offered a reassuring smile.

"It's because you care about him. That's what friends do—they look out for each other."

Harper's breath hitched, her next words barely above a whisper.

"I do care about him."

The depth of emotion in her eyes was unmistakable, a softness and longing that hinted at feelings far deeper than friendship.

Oh no.

"Have you told him how you really feel?" I asked gently.

Harper's reaction was instantaneous. Her eyes widened in panic, and she practically shrieked,

"What?! We're just friends, that's it!"

Her hands fluttered nervously at the hem of her shirt, smoothing nonexistent wrinkles as she turned toward the mirror, avoiding my knowing gaze.

Before I could respond, she hurried out of the bathroom, making a beeline for the kitchen.

I sighed, letting her have a moment to collect herself before following at a more sedate pace.

As we stepped out onto the porch, the warm evening air enveloped us, carrying the sound of laughter from the group gathered around the fire pit. Connor's employees—Mark, Paul, and Felix—sat clustered together, trading stories and jokes over cold beers. Harper and I each grabbed a bottle from the nearby cooler and claimed seats on the opposite side of the crackling flames.

I couldn't help but notice the tension emanating from Connor at the grill. His eyes were fixed on Harper, his gaze stern and unyielding, even as he cleared the last of the food onto the serving table. Harper, for her part, seemed determined to ignore his scrutiny, engaging instead in light banter with Felix.

Felix, with his short, styled black hair and piercing blue eyes, exuded confidence. His full-sleeve tattoos on both arms hinted at a rebellious streak, contrasting with his easy smile and relaxed demeanor. He leaned casually against a nearby table, and as he bantered back and forth with Harper, there was a playful glint in his eyes.

But I saw the subtle shift in Connor's expression, the way his brows furrowed, the way his stern gaze morphed into a full-on glare directed at Felix.

Oh, this is getting interesting.The intensity of his reaction was telling, hinting at feelings that went beyond mere concern for a friend.

If only these two could find the courage to be honest about their feelings, I mused. Maybe it would ease some of the obvious tension crackling between them.

As if seeking a distraction, Connor eventually pulled out his phone, his gaze focused intently on the screen as he began typing. Though his expression remained carefully neutral, I suspected he was texting Morgan. After a long moment, he slipped the phone back into his pocket and made his way over to a group of friends at a nearby table, leaving Harper and Felix to their continued flirtation.

As the night wore on, I found myself gradually relaxing. The earlier discomfort and anxiety faded away. Whether it was due to Harper's constant companionship throughout the evening or a growing acceptance that I no longer needed to hide from Connor's friends, I couldn't quite say. But for the first time in a while, I felt at ease, able to fully immerse myself in the warmth and conversation of the gathering.

Eventually, the last of the ranch hands and Connor's friends began to depart, their laughter and chatter fading into the night until only Connor and I remained. In the ensuing quiet, the atmosphere shifted into something more relaxed, more intimate. Connor looked around at the aftermath of the cookout and confessed his reluctance to tackle the cleanup, exhaustion evident in the slump of his shoulders.

Sensing his weariness, and feeling a sudden surge of responsibility, I stepped up to take charge. With purposeful strides, I began gathering the empty food trays from outside, relishing the cool night breeze that wafted in through the open sliding door. Moving into the kitchen, I loaded the dishwasher with practiced efficiency, stacking used utensils and dishes before starting a cycle. The remaining dishes would have to wait until morning, but I made sure to stack them neatly in the sink. One less thing for Connor to worry about.

As the last of the cleaning was finished and the kitchen returned to its usual tidy state, I found myself drawn back outside. The allure of the glowing embers in the fire pit proved too tempting to resist. Despite the late hour and the events of the day, I felt surprisingly awake, my mind too active to even consider sleep.

Grabbing a soft, knitted blanket from the den, I made my way back out into the cool night air. The yard was quiet now, the earlier revelry replaced by a peaceful stillness that seemed to settle over everything like a gentle whisper. The only sounds were the occasional rustling of leaves in the breeze and the distant, drowsy whickers of the horses as they settled in for the night.

I approached the fire pit, the dying embers casting a warm, flickering glow that danced across the ground. Settling myself onto one of the sturdy Adirondack benches with its cushioned seat, I draped the blanket over my lap with a contented sigh, cocooning myself in its cozy warmth.

As I sat there gazing into the hypnotic play of the fading embers, a profound sense of calm washed over me, a tranquility I hadn't experienced in longer than I could remember.