Page 91 of Shadows of Obsession

The dim porch light cast long shadows across the yard, creating an eerie stillness that amplified the isolation pressing in around me. Everything looked distorted in the darkness, familiar shapes turned strange and unfamiliar. My eyes scanned the empty space. Where was he?

I rounded the corner and found the area empty. The grill was covered, the chairs stacked neatly. No sign of him.

The kitchen was my next stop. I slid open the glass door, its surface cool beneath my palm. The gentle hum of the dishwasher filled the quiet room, a steady, mechanical sound that somehow made the silence feel heavier. But there was no sign of Jaxon.

I closed the door and locked it, the click of the latch echoing through the kitchen like a gunshot. The sound made me flinch. A bitter thought rose: He was avoiding me. He had to be.

Frustration rose in my chest, hot and tight, as my steps quickened. I moved toward the den, my footsteps muffled by the runner carpet in the hallway. Empty. Just the soft glow of a lamp casting muted light across the room, shadows pooling in the corners.

The house felt unnaturally still. The kind of quiet that swallowed sound and gave nothing back. If he wasn't in any of these rooms... where could he be? Was he…hidingfrom me?

The thought made anger flare hot beneath my skin, mixing with anxiety until I couldn't tell which emotion was winning.

The last place to check was the guest room upstairs. I took the stairs two at a time, my hand gripping the banister for support as my mind raced. What would I even say to him? How do you confront someone about pulling away when you're terrified the answer will confirm your worst fears?

The guest room door was open, light spilling out into the hallway. But when I looked inside, it was empty. The bed was made with military precision, his duffel bag sitting neatly on the bench at the foot of the bed.

A mix of irritation and unease coiled tighter in my stomach. What was he hiding from? What was he so afraid of that he couldn't even be in the same room with me?

Then I heard it, the steady sound of running water. The rhythmic rush of the shower coming from behind the closed bathroom door.Light flickered beneath the door, casting a strange glow across the hallway floor. The shower. He was in the shower.

I placed my hand flat against the bathroom door, the wood smooth and cool beneath my palm. Closing my eyes, I tried to gather my thoughts, to calm the storm of emotions swirling inside me. Should I talk to him now, while he's in a vulnerable state? Or give him space to process whatever's going on in that head of his?

No. No more space. No more waiting.

I couldn't leave things unresolved. The tension between us had been building for days. And the anger bubbling beneath my hesitation was a sign I couldn't ignore anymore.

I'd spent too long being passive with Daniel, accepting excuses and silences as normal. I wasn't going to do that again. Not even with Jaxon. Especially not with Jaxon. Because what we had, what I thought we had, deserved better than this suffocating silence.

My thoughts drifted back to the last couple of weeks, when Jaxon had been attentive, warm, engaging. We'd shared easy laughter and gentle touches. He'd looked at me like I was the answer to a question he'd been asking for years. We'd fallen asleep wrapped in each other's arms, and it had felt like coming home.

But since the break-in, it was like he'd been withdrawing, pulling back inch by inch until I was left grasping at air, trapped in an emotional limbo that was slowly driving me insane.

It wasn't just the break-in either. Something deeper was wrong, and the realization made my blood boil. I'd worked too hard to rebuild my life after my past, fought too many battles to get to a place where I could trust someone again, only to feel abandoned by someone I thought I could count on.

Determined to confront him, I headed toward my bedroom, jaw set. If he was going to push me away, I needed to push back. I needed to show him, with more than words, that I wasn't going anywhere. That whatever this was, we were facing it together. Or I’d tell him that whatever we had started to explore was over. I refused to be left in the dark or stuck in this limbo.

I shed my clothes as I walked down the hall, each piece of fabric hitting the floor with a soft whisper. My jacket. Myshirt. My jeans. I left a trail behind me like breadcrumbs, too focused on what I was about to do to care about the mess.

My hands trembled slightly as I grabbed a fluffy towel from my bathroom, wrapping it snugly around myself. The soft cotton was a small comfort against the anxiety fluttering in my stomach like a trapped bird. But beneath the fear was determination, hard and sharp as steel.

I marched purposefully back to the guest bathroom door, my bare feet silent on the hardwood. The cool metal of the handle was smooth against my clammy palm, and I began to turn it slowly, half-expecting resistance but finding none.

The quiet creak of the hinges as the door swung open seemed to echo through the otherwise silent hallway, making me wince. I opened it inch by cautious inch, careful not to startle him. Though part of mewantedto startle him, wanted to shake him out of whatever dark place he'd retreated to.

The steamy warmth from the bathroom rolled over my bare skin like a wave, carrying the clean, invigorating scent of his body wash. The humid air made the tiny hairs on my arms stand on end, goosebumps rising despite the heat.

The steady patter of the shower sounded almost musical, like rain drumming on a tin roof, creating a soothing backdrop to the tension I was about to put out in the open.

As I stepped into the humid space, I quietly shut the door behind me with a soft click that seemed impossibly loud. My heart hammered so hard I could feel it in my throat, taste copper on my tongue.

The bathroom was larger and more modern than mine. Sleek dove-gray walls and crisp white trim gleamed in the soft light. The tiles beneath my feet were cool charcoal slate, their textured surface rough against my bare soles, grounding me when everything else felt surreal.

An oversized mirror with a chic backlit frame hung above the double vanity, reflecting my blurred image back at me through the fog. I barely recognized myself, hair loose and slightly wild, eyes wide and bright with determination and fear in equal measure, clutching a towel around myself like armor.

What am I doing? This is crazy.

But I didn't stop.