Page 39 of Tides of Change
After eating, I loaded the dishwasher and wiped down the counters in wide swipes, lost in thought about my current chapter. Then my phone chimed.
The security camera notification.
I froze, and a shiver ran down my spine. Slowly, I meticulously dried my hands on a dish towel as I tried to steady myself. But my heart thumped hard against my ribs, an erratic beat of dread.
With trembling fingers, I pulled up the feed.
The screen was black.
Frowning, I rewound the footage, breath held tight in my chest. There he was—the same hooded, masked figure as before, walking up to my porch like he owned the place.Gutsy.His movements were calm, almost casual, as he raised a can of spraypaint. A cold rush of fear flooded me as I watched black paint splatter across the camera lens, blotting out the view.
Then, nothing.
The feed went dark.
I stood there and stared at my phone, the edges digging into my palm. My mind raced. Was he still out there? Watching? Waiting?
I texted Garrett, my fingers clumsy on the keys.
Someone spray-painted the camera. Same guy. What do I do?
His response was immediate.
Stay inside. Do NOT go out to clean the camera. I’m coming over.
What about Noah?
He’s with my parents for the weekend.
Minutes stretched into eternity as I paced the entryway and glanced at the door every few seconds. Each creak of the house, each rustle of wind outside, set my nerves on edge. My heart hadn’t stopped pounding since the notification.
The knock startled me, sending a rush of adrenaline through my veins.
“It’s Garrett,” he called, his voice steady, calming.
Relief hit me like a wave and crashed through the anxiety that had built inside me. I unlatched the door and pulled it open, the sight of him immediately easing the tightness in my chest.
Garrett stood there with a stepladder tucked under one arm, a bottle of rubbing alcohol in his hand, and a rag slung over his shoulder. His blue eyes scanned me briefly from head to toe. Hispresence was solid and reassuring, like an anchor holding me steady against the storm inside my head.
“You came prepared,” I murmured, my voice hoarse.
His lips curved into a small smile. “I figured you wouldn’t have this stuff lying around in a rental.”
I held out my hands, suddenly wanting to take the task from him, to feel in control of something. “I can do it.”
“No,” he said firmly, his gaze locking on mine with authority. “I’m going to take pictures for the report, and then I’ll clean it. You’re staying inside.”
“But—”
“No arguments.” His tone softened, but the resolve remained. “I don’t want you out here, Ethan.”
His protective stance—always so calm, so sure—made my throat tighten. What would I do without Garrett? The thought of facing my stalker alone sent a shiver through me. He wasn’t just offering the support of the sheriff’s office. He was offering himself as a…friend. His strength, his time, his care.
Reluctantly, I nodded and closed the door. I locked it and flipped the deadbolt with a click that seemed to echo louder than it should have. As I walked in circles in the small entryway, the tension in my body built with each step. Every second Garrett spent outside felt like a century.
Finally, his voice came through the door. “Check your feed.”
I pulled up the video. Garrett stood on the porch and gave the camera a small wave.
