Page 37 of Tides of Change
Together, we strolled the neighborhood, and our quiet footsteps mingled with Noah’s chatter. Ethan lingered in the shadows at each house, letting Noah and me take the lead, but his presence felt significant.
Every so often, I caught his gaze on me, his expression unreadable but warm. I met his eyes once and the soft glow of a porch light caught the edge of a smile. My heart stumbled, and I looked away as heat crept up my neck.
This wasn’t just another evening. This was somethinggrowing between us.
We strolled from one house to the next, Noah’s small, warm hand nestled securely in mine. The neighbors I’d known for years—the Vees, Wigfields, Carpenters, Hendershots, Moores,and others—were a mix of longtime retirees who’d lived there since the houses were built and young families settling into their first homes. At each door, I kept my tone casual, simply asking them to keep an eye out for anything—or anyone—unusual on the street. I didn’t offer specifics. Just enough to plant a seed of watchfulness.
Ethan’s phone chimed, the familiar sound instantly drawing my attention. I recognized the notification—it was from his security system. Someone was at his front door. My first thought was that it was probably just a kid trick-or-treating, but Ethan’s sharp intake of breath told me otherwise.
I stopped in my tracks, instinctively pulling Noah to a halt beside me. “What’s wrong?” My voice came out clipped, my senses on high alert.
Ethan turned the phone so I could see. A figure cloaked in a long, hooded robe approached Ethan’s porch, their movements deliberate and unnerving. The person bent down, picked up Ethan’s carefully carved pumpkin, and hurled it against the door. The sharp crack of impact reverberated in my imagination and sent a chill racing down my spine. Then the figure lifted their masked face toward the camera. They raised a middle finger with an air of casual defiance before disappearing into the night.
My chest tightened with an icy knot of dread. “Fudge,” I muttered under my breath. My gaze flicked to Ethan, whose face had paled. “He’s getting bolder. He’s escalating. Why? What does he want from you?”
Ethan’s shoulders sagged as he shook his head. “I don’t know,” he said, his voice barely more than a breath. “I swear, Garrett—I have no idea who he is or what he’s after. He hasn’t asked for anything. No demands. Just…messages. Warnings. Threats. Like he’s playing some twisted game, and I don’t even know the rules.”
I handed the phone back to him, my fingers brushing his, stiff with strain. “Send me that video.”
Ethan’s jaw worked as he nodded, his movements jerky.
Noah, attuned to the mood, tugged at my hand. “What’s wrong?” His innocent voice cut through the tension, pulling both of us back to the moment.
“It’s no big deal, buddy,” Ethan replied, his tone carefully even. “Someone smashed my pumpkin.” He forced a smile, but his rigid posture betrayed his attempt to stay calm.
Noah’s face fell and his brows knitted in confusion. “Why would anyone do that? It was so cute.” He hesitated, then mumbled, “Even though the smile was crooked.”
Ethan’s tense expression cracked, and he choked out a laugh. The sound, though brief, was enough to ease some of the weight pressing on my chest. “I’ll do better next year,” he promised, his voice thick with affection.
Would he even be here next year? The unspoken question lodged in my throat, but I swallowed it down for now.
Noah nodded solemnly. “Do that.”
I snorted, glad for the comic relief. “Let’s not turn this into a critique of Ethan’s pumpkin carving skills. I think we need to?—”
“No,” Ethan interrupted firmly, his tone brooking no argument. “We’re not cutting the night short. The guy is long gone, has probably already ditched the costume. We wouldn’t recognize him in the crowd. He’s not ruining Noah’s night.” With that, he turned on his heel and started toward the next house, his stride long and purposeful.
I opened my mouth to argue but stopped when Noah’s hopeful face tilted up at me. “Please, Daddy?”
My resolve softened, and I glanced at Ethan. I appreciated his determination to protect the night for Noah’s sake. I relented with a nod and followed. The photos I needed to take of Ethan’s porch and the search for the costume could wait.
When we reached the next house and stopped beside Ethan, I called my sister. “Can you be at my house in thirty minutes? Something’s come up.”
“Is Auntie Harper coming over?” Noah danced on his toes. “Can we eat candy?”
“Yeah.” Harper would have to deal with the consequences, and I held back a chuckle at her expense.
Ethan mouthed, “Thank you.”
We finished the houses on our street and then circled back to Ethan’s. The faint metallic tang of adrenaline still lingered in the back of my throat as I took in the mess on his door—the smashed pumpkin strewn like a garish warning. I snapped pictures while Ethan silently grabbed a broom, his movements unsteady but resolute.
When he was done, Ethan brushed pumpkin seeds from his hands and crouched in front of Noah. “Thanks for taking me trick-or-treating. I had fun.”
“Look how much candy I gots!” Noah beamed and held up his bucket with pride.
“Wow!” Ethan exaggerated his amazement and earned a giggle from Noah. “That’s a lot. Think you can share some with your dad?”
Noah scuffed the toe of his shoe against the concrete and thought it over. “Okay.”
