Page 20 of Tides of Change
I sighed, rubbed my temples, and glanced at my phone for the hundredth time. No new messages. No new notifications. I tapped the screen anyway and scrolled through the same list of unread fan emails. My chest tightened with the name of every sender. There was nothing new from EyeSeeYou. Was I relieved? No.
The silence was almost worse.
My coffee sat untouched on the desk beside me. I picked it up, took a sip, and grimaced at the cold, unappealing brew. My gaze drifted to the window and the tightly closed blinds that shrouded the room in shadows. It felt wrong to be so cooped up in my own house.
I clicked over to my social media accounts and scanned the notifications. Most were harmless: comments, likes, a few newfollowers. But each one felt like a potential threat. I closed the apps with a shaky exhale, leaned back in my chair, and stared at the ceiling.
What was I supposed to do? Should I tell someone? Tell Garrett? My stomach churned at the thought. What would I even say?Oh, hey, Garrett, I think I have a deranged fan who’s stalking me and leaving cryptic messages. That’s normal, right?
The sharp chime of the doorbell made me jump so violently that I nearly knocked my coffee onto the keyboard. My heart pounded as I reached for my phone and pulled up the door cam feed with trembling fingers. Relief flooded through me when I saw Garrett and Noah standing on the porch.
Noah grinned up at the camera while Garrett stood behind him, hands tucked into the pockets of his jeans and looking sheepish. I set my phone down and rushed to the door, my pulse racing, but for a different reason.
When I opened the door, Noah beamed. “Hi, Mr. Ethan!”
Garrett cleared his throat, his expression apologetic. “Sorry to drop by unannounced. Noah wanted to come say hi…” He glanced away briefly, adding under his breath, “And, well, I guess I did too.” He looked over his shoulder. “But don’t worry, I scanned the street before we came over. Just Mrs. Hendershot walking old Bernie.”
A small, genuine smile broke through my tension. “I’m glad you’re here.”
Noah looked up at me, his face animated. “I’m going to Grandma and Grandpa’s house for a sleepover tonight! We’re gonna bake cookies and watch a movie. Grandpa lets me stay up super late.”
“That sounds like so much fun.” My smile softened as I crouched to his level. “What kind of cookies are you going to make?”
“Chocolate chip! Grandma says we might even do oatmeal raisin, but raisins are gross.” As he spoke, Noah glanced down. “Oh!” He squatted to grab something from under the doormat. “Here, this is for you.”
The smile froze on my face as he handed me a piece of paper. I stood and unfolded it with trembling hands. A cold dread crept through my chest. It was a torn page—ripped straight from the fifth Jake Slate novel. The one where I’d typedThe End. Beneath those two words, scrawled in jagged red letters, was a message that made my blood run cold:You’ll never see The End coming.
The ground seemed to shift, and my breath came in shallow gasps. My fingers shook as I stared at the page, and the paper quivered in my hand.
“Ethan?” Garrett’s voice cut through the fog, sharp and concerned.
I met his gaze, unable to hide my fear.
“What is it?” It was a command couched as a question.
Wordlessly, I handed him the page. His jaw tightened as his eyes scanned the writing. “What the heck?”
I shook my head; my throat was too tight to speak.
Garrett’s face darkened, and his voice dropped, steady and furious. “We’ll talk about this later. Do you have a Ziploc bag?”
I retrieved a bag from the kitchen and handed it to Garrett. He slipped the paper inside, like evidence at a crime scene. I supposed it was.
“I’ll be here at six. We’ll figure this out.”
I managed a weak, “Okay,” my body still shuddering.
Garrett turned to Noah and softened. “Time to go, buddy. Grandma and Grandpa are waiting.”
Noah waved cheerfully as they left, completely oblivious to the tension. “Bye, Mr. Ethan! See you!”
I forced a smile and waved back as they crossed the street to their car. Garrett glanced over his shoulder and his eyes locked with mine, questions in his gaze.
As I threw the deadbolt, the severity of the situation hit me like a wave against the cliffs. I stumbled to the couch and sank into it. My pulse pounded in my temples, and my vision narrowed.Breathe, Ethan, I reminded myself.You’re not in this alone.
I wasn’t sure what terrified me more—the stalker’s growing boldness or the thought of Garrett getting caught in the crossfire.
CHAPTER TEN
