Page 11 of Tides of Change
Ethan tilted his head, and concern dimmed his expression. “Everything okay?”
I forced my features into something more neutral. “Everything’s fine. Thanks for doing this.” I stepped back to give him room. I leaned against the doorframe and tried to recover from the odd sensation.
“My pleasure.” He perched on the edge of Noah’s bed, his tall frame out of place in the cramped room overflowing with stuffed animals and storybooks. He cleared his throat theatrically, cracked opened the book, and tilted it so Noah could see the illustrations.
Then Ethan began to read. His voice dropped an octave, his tone resonant and deep, and he slipped seamlessly into the role of storyteller. He gave each animal a distinct form of speech, from a grumpy bear to a squeaky squirrel, and even added exaggerated gestures. The effect was magical.
Laughter bubbled out of me before I could stop it.
Ethan utterly captivated Noah. His giggles rang out, pure and light, as he clung to every word Ethan read. When Ethan reached the last page and closed the book with a dramatic flourish, Noah sighed in contentment.
But then mischief entered his eyes. “Another!” he begged.
I shook my head and bit back a grin. “That’s enough for tonight, buddy. It’s way past your bedtime.”
Noah’s shoulders slumped, and his lower lip pushed out in an overblown pout. “Aww.”
“Say thank you to Mr. Ethan for reading the story.” I crossed my arms.
Noah perked up, bright with a zeal that was equal parts gratitude and a stalling tactic. “Thank you, Mr. Ethan!”
Ethan stood and carefully placed the book on the shelf. “Goodnight, Noah. Sweet dreams,” he whispered. He retreated to the hallway to allow us to finish our bedtime routine.
I tucked Noah in, smoothed the blankets, and pressed a kiss to his forehead. His dark hair smelled faintly of baby shampoo, and for a moment I lingered, overwhelmed by the quiet love that always seemed to swell in moments like these. “Sleep tight, buddy. I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Night, Daddy,” he murmured, already drifting off.
I shut off the lamp, made sure his nightlight cast a glow over the room, and pulled the door until only a crack remained open. Ethan waited in the hall. A strange mix of gratitude and a deeper pang twisted in my chest. The house felt a little fuller, a little brighter. And it wasn’t because of Noah.
Ethan nodded briefly, a warm smile on his lips. He turned, made his way to the front door, and stepped into his shoes. “Thank you for a fun evening.”
I was reluctant to let him go, though I didn’t have the excuse of Noah’s invitation to prolong the evening. A connection between us sparked in a way I hadn’t expected but couldn’t ignore. Ethan made me laugh—not just polite chuckles, but genuine laughter. His sharp mind kept me on my toes. And the way he’d been with Noah—kind, patient, and unhurried—had struck a chord. It wasn’t just that I admired him. I liked him. I wanted to know more about the man.
The thought of the evening ending left a hollow ache, as if I’d be letting go of something that mattered before I even fully understood it. I wasn’t ready to say goodbye—not yet. My pulse picked up, and my words stumbled out. “Stay for a beer?”
CHAPTER SEVEN
Ethan
Garrett’s question hung in the air, simple but loaded—“Stay for a beer?”
I froze with my hand on the doorknob. The correct answer wasno. I should leave. I had my reasons—too many of them.
But my chest tightened with the weight of the isolation I’d carried for months. Garrett’s home was warm, inviting, and full of life—clear in the faint, lingering aroma of shared popcorn and the memory of Noah’s laughter. My house was…empty. Quiet to the point of suffocation.
The logical side of me shouted its objections: he’s a deputy sheriff. If he finds out about the stalker, it’ll complicate everything. I’m here temporarily and might have to leave at a moment’s notice. What’s the point of forming friendships if I’m just going to sever them?
And the most important argument—what if I endangered Noah if I got closer to the little family?
My hand tightened on the doorknob.
But then there was Garrett. The openness in his expression, the hint of nervousness in the way he shoved his hands into hispockets. He wanted me to stay. For a beer. For company. For…something more?
The thought sent a flicker of warmth through me, battling against the impersonal voice of reason. We had chemistry, no denying that. The way he smiled, the way his deep laugh filled my chest—he drew me in, made me forget the walls I’d built.
And maybe his presence could keep the stalker at bay. Not that I wanted to use him. I didn’t want that. But maybe he could provide a shield of safety, and if I ever told him everything, Garrett might offer the support—professional, emotional—I couldn’t find anywhere else.
Still, the risk loomed large. What if the stalker escalated? What if I brought danger to his doorstep? I couldn’t do that. I wouldn’t forgive myself.
