The Master Psychic

chapter 2 - can I have that

The Jeep crunched over gravel as Mason pulled into the small lot outside the bookstore. It was one of those narrow brick-front shops wedged between a café and an antique store, its windows lined with colorful displays that promised endless stories within.

"Here we are," Mason announced, sliding the Jeep into park. Harper was the first to hop out, excitement lighting her face as she tugged at Mason's sleeve. Sage followed more slowly, her eyes drawn to the shop's painted sign swaying gently in the breeze.

The little bell above the door chimed as they entered, the smell of paper and ink wrapping around them like a familiar blanket.

Sage gave the others a quick smile. "I'm gonna look around." Without waiting for an answer, she drifted toward the back aisles, trailing her fingers along the spines of books until she disappeared between the shelves.

Left alone near the front, Harper looped her arm through Mason's, her eyes sparkling mischievously. "Okay, don't get mad, but... can I grab a few of my favorites while we're here?"

Mason narrowed his eyes at her, instantly suspicious. "Favorites?"

She leaned closer, lowering her voice just enough to make it sound like a secret. "You know... the ones you roll your eyes at. The ones with the shirtless guys on the cover and titles you can't say out loud without blushing."

Mason groaned, but a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "Harper..."

"Come on," she pleaded, her grip on his arm tightening as she tilted her head in exaggerated sweetness. "They're fun. And I promise I'll hide them from Sage so she won't tease you."

He shook his head, chuckling under his breath. "You're so naughty."

Harper gasped in mock offense, smacking his shoulder lightly. "I'm cultured."

"Right," Mason said with a laugh, finally giving in. "Fine. Get your spicy books. But you're carrying the bag."

"Deal." Harper grinned triumphantly, already steering him toward the romance section.

Across the shop, Sage's voice drifted faintly as she whispered the titles of books to herself, unaware of the playful negotiations happening at the other end of the store—her thoughts already tugging her toward something she couldn't quite name.

Sage clutched three paperbacks against her chest as she wove through the aisles toward the front counter. The covers were all dark and moody—murder mysteries with twisted plots that promised sleepless nights. Exactly the kind of stories she craved when her own mind felt too restless.

At the register, Mason and Harper were already waiting, a small bag of books dangling from Harper's hand. She looked smug, no doubt over her successful "spicy book" haul. Mason leaned casually against the counter, but straightened when he spotted Sage approaching.

"Find something?" he asked.

Sage nodded and set her stack down in front of the cashier. "Yeah. Just a few."

The cashier smiled politely, reaching for the books, but before Sage could even pull out her wallet, Mason slid a folded bill across the counter. "I've got it."

Sage frowned and tried to hand him a ten from her pocket. "Mason, no. I can pay for my own—"

"Nope," Mason cut her off smoothly, giving the cashier a look that dared them to take Sage's money. "Put it on mine."

The cashier hesitated, then accepted Mason's payment with a nod.

Sage groaned, picking up her bag once the transaction was done. "You don't have to keep treating me like a kid, you know."

Mason smirked. "I know. But I like to."

Harper looped her arm through his, grinning. "Don't fight it, Sage. Free books are free books."

Sage rolled her eyes but couldn't help the tiny smile tugging at her lips as they stepped back outside into the morning sun. Mason could be insufferable, but she knew better than to push too hard. Sometimes, his overprotectiveness was just his way of saying he cared.

Still, she hugged the bag of mysteries close as they walked toward the Jeep, promising herself she'd sneak in a favor for him when he least expected it.

The Jeep rolled into the grocery store lot, Mason easing into a space near the entrance. The lot was busy with Saturday shoppers, carts rattling over pavement and kids darting around their parents.

"Alright," Mason said as he killed the engine, turning to face the girls. "We're making this quick and painless. Divide and conquer."

Harper raised a brow. "You sound like you're planning a military mission."

"Same thing," Mason shot back with a grin. "Except instead of enemy fire, it's endless checkout lines."

They all climbed out of the Jeep and pushed through the sliding glass doors, the cool air-conditioning washing over them. Mason grabbed a cart and steered it inside, immediately pulling a crumpled list from his pocket.

"Okay," he said, scanning it like a commander issuing orders. "Harper—you're on produce. Apples, bananas, and whatever veggies look halfway decent."

She gave a mock salute. "Yes, sir."

"Mmm," Mason muttered, ignoring her smirk. "Sage—you get snacks. Chips, granola bars, and don't forget the coffee. Last time you 'forgot,' and I nearly died."

Sage tugged her tote bag higher on her shoulder, smirking. "Fine. But I'm picking the chip flavors, not you."

"Fair," Mason said, then tapped the list. "I'll grab the boring stuff. Bread, milk, eggs. We'll meet up at the registers in fifteen minutes."

"Got it," Harper said brightly, already veering toward the produce section.

Sage shook her head, amused, and steered off toward the snack aisle while Mason pushed the cart in the opposite direction. For a moment, it felt ordinary—normal errands, normal laughter, just a family running through a grocery list.

But as Sage passed a row of stacked displays, a flicker of silver in the corner of her vision made her freeze. For half a breath, she swore she saw eyes—watching her through the reflection of the freezer glass.

When she blinked, they were gone.

Her fingers tightened around the handle of her basket, and she forced herself forward, heart thudding as she pretended everything was fine.

By the time they regrouped at the registers, Mason's cart was stacked nearly to the brim. Harper plunked down a bag of apples and a bundle of kale with a triumphant smile, while Sage dropped her basket onto the conveyor, snacks and coffee stacked neatly inside.

"Mission accomplished," Harper said as the cashier began scanning their items.

"Barely," Mason muttered, side-eyeing the extra pack of cookies Sage had slipped in.

"You'll thank me later," Sage replied with a shrug.

The checkout went quickly, and soon Mason was pushing the heavy cart back across the parking lot, Harper balancing a bouquet of sunflowers she had insisted on grabbing "just because," and Sage carrying a paper bag cradled carefully in her arms.

They loaded everything into the Jeep, bags rustling as Mason shoved them into the back. With a slam of the hatch, he tossed the keys in his hand. "Alright, let's head home before the ice cream melts."

The three of them piled into the car, Harper sliding into the passenger seat, Sage settling in the back again. Mason started the engine, the low hum filling the air as they pulled out of the lot and back onto the open road.

The first few minutes passed in easy chatter—Harper humming along to the radio, Mason teasing her about the flowers, Sage flipping through the receipt and rolling her eyes at the "mystery tax" Mason grumbled about.

But as the town slipped away behind them and the road narrowed into the winding stretch of trees leading home, Sage's gaze drifted back to the passing woods.