Tessa
The smell of pasta still lingered faintly in the air as we sat together on the couch, a blanket wrapped around our legs. My iPad rested on my lap, a movie playing quietly. Normally, Jaxson would have made some joke by now, teasing me for watching romantic movies and not knowing how to be romantic just to annoy me.
But today, he was quiet. Too quiet.
He sat there beside me, one arm draped along the back of the couch, his eyes fixed on the screen but not really watching it. His thumb moved slowly against his knee, like his mind was somewhere else entirely.
I turned my head to look at him. The faint bruise on his jaw was still visible from the fight, and his knuckles were healing. But that wasn’t what bothered me. It was the way he looked right now — distant, cold, heavy, like somet
