Page 38 of Tides of Change
I laughed and ruffled Noah’s hair. As Ethan straightened, our gazes locked. The warmth in his eyes and the unspoken longing between us made my heart skip a beat. For a moment, the world fell away, and it was just the two of us, possibilities stretching before us.
But not in front of Noah.
“Good night,” I said softly, the words carrying more weight than they should. “Thanks for coming with us.”
“My pleasure.” His lips curved into a small smile, and my chest tightened with the unspoken connection between us.
By the time we reached home, Harper was already waiting. After a quick, generic explanation about a vandal, I grabbed my tactical flashlight and headed out to search for the discarded costume. The night air bit at my skin, and every shadow seemed alive, but the search turned up nothing. My frustration grew with every step.
When I finally texted Ethan to let him know, his reply was immediate.
Didn’t find the costume.
Not surprised. Thanks for trying.
As I set my phone down, the heavy weight of uncertainty settled deeper. What would the stalker do next?
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Ethan
The soft light of morning filtered through the slats of my blinds. I sat at my desk, pen poised over a page of the notebook beside my laptop. I tapped the pen on the paper, a metronome ticking away the seconds of my distracted thoughts. I was supposed to be brainstorming the next chapter of my book, but my mind refused to cooperate.
Instead, I kept replaying the events of the previous night.
The stalker’s latest act felt like he’d crossed a line. Smashing the pumpkin wasn’t just a petty, anonymous act of vandalism—it was a deliberate taunt. The way he had stared directly into the camera, raising his middle finger in mockery, sent a chill through me, even now. My stomach churned with a toxic mix of anger and unease. He was getting bolder. How long before he snapped?
I leaned back in my chair and scrubbed my hands over my face. The silence of the house felt oppressive, pressing down on me like a weight. Last night, I managed to maintain a veneer of calm for Noah’s sake. But now, alone with my thoughts, the gravity of the situation bore down on me. What would the stalker do next?
My gaze drifted to the notebook on my desk, where I’d jotted down loose ideas for my next chapter. Jake Slate faced his own shadowy threat, an antagonist that lurked just out of sight. The book was just a story—a carefully crafted narrative to thrill readers—but now it felt like my life was bleeding onto the page. The parallels were too close, the lines between reality and fiction blurring in ways that left me unnerved.
I tried to focus, to force my mind back to the plot I’d been constructing, but my thoughts kept straying to Garrett. His staunch presence had been a balm against the chaos. The way he’d calmly handled the situation, prioritizing Noah’s happiness while still quietly taking control, left me in awe. Garrett was a force of nature—unflinching, dependable, and protective.
And then there was the moment at the end of the night. Our gazes had locked, and for a heartbeat, everything else faded away. There had been a warmth in his eyes, a silent understanding that went deeper than words. My chest lightened at the memory, a flutter of something that was growing between us. Garrett made me feel…special.
It wasn’t just the physical safety of knowing he’d protect me from the stalker. It was the way he made me laugh in the face of anxiety, the way he eased the constant tension in my shoulders. For a man whose life had become a tangled mess of fear and uncertainty, Garrett was a sanctuary.
I smiled to myself despite the heavy thoughts weighing me down. Garrett shouldered some of my burden.
My thoughts freed, I brainstormed the next chapter. The words flowed easily after that.
Before I knew it, the light outside had faded, and evening had crept in. I realized I’d worked through lunch without even noticing. My stomach growled in protest, a hollow ache that forced me to push back from my desk.
I stood and stretched until my spine cracked. A groan escaped my lips as I worked out the stiffness in my back and shoulders.
The backyard motion sensor floodlight flicked on.
The sudden brightness engulfed the room, sharp and intrusive. My pulse kicked up instantly. Probably just a cat or a breeze. Still, I parted the blinds and peered through the slats.
Nothing.
The bushes swayed in the breeze. No shadows, no movement shifted ominously along the tall wooden fence. Just me, overreacting. Again.
I let the blinds fall shut and blew out a breath. Still unsettled, I made my way to the kitchen. Food wouldn’t fix the tension crawling up my spine, but it was a start.
Leftover chicken and vegetables called my name, and I set about reheating dinner. The clink of silverware and the hum of the microwave filled the quiet. Routine tasks, relaxing and familiar. I needed that sense of normalcy right now.
But normal wasn’t what my life was anymore.
