The Master Psychic

chapter15

Sage’s voice softened, but her words carried clearly. “I’m accepting the soul tie.”

For a heartbeat, no one moved. Then Jared’s breath hitched—so quiet she almost thought she imagined it. His silver eyes softened, shifting from their piercing glow to something warmer, something almost human.

“Are you sure?” Mason asked, his tone careful, almost protective.

“Yes,” Sage said firmly, squaring her shoulders. “I’m sure.”

Jared stepped forward then, slow and cautious, as if afraid one wrong move might shatter her resolve. His gaze never left hers. “Thank you,” he said quietly, the words thick with something that sounded a lot like relief.

The tension in the room eased just a little. Harper wiped at her eyes, Mason leaned back with a heavy exhale, and Sage—though her heart still pounded—felt a strange sense of peace settle in her chest.

Her choice was made. Sage stayed standing, her hands clasped together to stop their trembling. Jared had taken a cautious step closer, his expression soft but unreadable. Mason and Harper both waited, expectant but silent, giving her space to finish her thoughts.

“I want to make something clear,” Sage said, her voice steady now. “Just because I’ve accepted the soul tie doesn’t mean I’m ready to dive headfirst into everything it might mean.”

Jared tilted his head slightly, listening intently.

“I need time,” she continued. “We’ll… start slow. We’ll figure out what this connection actually means for us. But for now, we’ll have our own rooms, our own space. I need that, if I’m going to be okay with all of this.”

Harper smiled softly, nodding. “That sounds perfectly reasonable.”

Mason gave a low grunt of agreement, though his eyes flicked to Jared like he was silently warning him to respect Sage’s words.

Jared’s silver gaze softened. He gave a small nod, his voice quiet but certain. “I understand. I’ll follow your lead, Sage. No pressure. No rush.”

The tension in Sage’s shoulders eased just a little. She hadn’t realized until that moment how afraid she’d been of losing control of her own choices.

“Thank you,” she whispered, meaning it.

For the first time that night, the knot in her chest loosened. This wasn’t a perfect solution, not by far. But it was a beginning—her beginning—on her terms. The conversation had settled, the tension in the room replaced by a quiet stillness. Sage had sunk back into the armchair, exhaustion tugging at her edges but her mind too alert to rest just yet. Jared lingered, hands tucked into his pockets, glancing at her as though he was weighing whether to speak.

Finally, he cleared his throat softly. “Sage?”

She lifted her eyes, curious. “Yeah?”

His gaze flicked toward the television against the far wall, then back to her. “Do you… want to watch a movie? Nothing heavy, just—something to unwind after all this.” His voice was careful, almost hesitant, as though he didn’t want to push too far too soon.

Sage studied him for a moment, then gave a small nod. “Yeah. A movie sounds good.”

Mason, who had been watching the exchange like a hawk, leaned back with a sigh. He glanced at Harper, then stood and stretched. “Alright. Then Harper and I are going to head to bed.”

Harper smiled knowingly as she rose from the couch. “You two enjoy yourselves. Don’t stay up too late.”

Sage rolled her eyes, but a smile tugged at her lips anyway. Mason lingered for one more moment, his protective gaze fixed on Jared, a silent warning in his eyes. Jared only gave a slight nod, acknowledging the unspoken message.

“Night,” Sage said softly as Mason and Harper disappeared down the hall.

Then the room was quiet again, just her and Jared, the glow of the television waiting to be switched on. She exhaled slowly, allowing herself to relax a little as she gestured to the couch.

“So,” she said, almost teasing. “What movie are you thinking?”

Jared scrolled through the streaming menu with the remote, his brow furrowed in concentration. Sage sat on the far end of the couch, legs curled under her, pretending to study the titles but more aware of the silence stretching between them.

“What about this one?” Jared asked, pausing on a goofy-looking comedy with a ridiculous title.

Sage leaned forward, squinting at the screen. “That one’s supposed to be funny… in a dumb way.”

“Dumb-funny works,” Jared said, a small grin tugging at his lips.

Sage nodded, letting out a quiet laugh. “Fine. Dumb-funny it is.”

He pressed play, then set the remote on the coffee table before leaning back. She shifted a little, moving just enough to settle into her corner of the couch. They weren’t touching—there was at least a cushion’s worth of space between them—but she could still feel the awareness of him there, steady and warm, like gravity tugging at the edges of her comfort zone.

The movie started with a burst of over-the-top antics that pulled an easy laugh out of Sage. Jared chuckled too, glancing at her for just a second before turning back to the screen.

It wasn’t awkward, exactly. Just… new. Careful. Like both of them were testing the air, making sure this fragile beginning didn’t crack under the weight of what they now shared.

For now, it was just a comedy movie. Just two people sitting side by side. Nothing more. Nothing less.

And for Sage, that was enough. The credits of the comedy rolled, cheerful music filling the living room. Sage stretched her arms above her head and let out a yawn she tried to hide. Jared glanced at her with a half-smile.

“Still awake?” he asked lightly.

“Barely,” Sage teased, though her eyes were still bright. “What about one more? Something different this time.”

Jared raised an eyebrow. “Different as in… what? Horror? Drama?”

Sage tilted her head, thinking. “Sad. A tearjerker.”

He chuckled under his breath. “You want to laugh and then cry, all in one night?”

“Exactly,” she said, a playful spark in her tone. “Balance.”

Shaking his head, Jared searched until he found one of those heart-wrenching movies known for breaking people down. He hesitated for a second before pressing play, sneaking a quick glance her way.

The tone shifted quickly. Where the comedy had been all bright colors and jokes, this film was quiet, heavy, the kind of story that tugged at emotions with every scene. Sage started off in her usual corner of the couch, but as the tension built, she found herself leaning forward, then inching closer.

When a particularly gut-punch moment struck, she drew in a sharp breath, hugging her knees. Jared noticed, his jaw tightening like he felt it too, though he said nothing.

Slowly, almost without realizing it, Sage shifted closer. First just leaning against the middle cushion, then letting her shoulder brush against his arm.

Jared froze for a moment, glancing down at her, but he didn’t move away. He didn’t say a word.

By the time the movie reached its most heartbreaking scene, Sage was pressed gently against him, her head tilted just enough to rest near his shoulder. She could feel the steady rise and fall of his breathing, grounding her in the sadness of the story and the strange comfort of his presence.

And Jared—he sat perfectly still, letting her choose the closeness, his silver eyes fixed on the screen but his entire being focused on her.

For the first time since accepting the bond, Sage didn’t feel afraid of it.