Page 52 of Tides of Change
“I’ll still protect you, Ethan,” I said firmly. “Badge or no badge. I’m not backing off.”
I ended the call and shoved my phone into my pocket, exhaling slowly. Sarge could take me off the case, but that didn’t change a damn thing. Ethan was still in danger, and I wasn’t about to let him face it alone.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Garrett
The house felt too quiet, a hollow, echoing kind of silence that pressed into my chest. Saturdays were usually a noisy affair—Noah running around, building caves out of couch cushions, or begging me to watch another episode ofBlueywith him. But today, he was in San Francisco with Harper, marveling at the lionfish and laughing at penguins waddling along the rocks.
I should have been grateful for the break, glad he was safe and having a great time—Harper’s texted pictures proved as much. Noah’s smile beamed back at me from a photo. A stuffed penguin perched in the crook of his arm. My chest tightened with an ache that bordered on ridiculous.
But I missed my boy.
Weeknights with him were too short—dinner, homework, bedtime. And now, with this darn stalker targeting Ethan and hovering like a dark cloud over my life, too, I couldn’t risk having Noah home on the weekends. Not until I had that bastard behind bars.
My jaw clenched as my thoughts spiraled, and anger bubbled up from a deep well of frustration that I was off the case. I scrubbed harder at the countertop with the sponge in my hand,my fingers gripping it like a lifeline. The soapy water spilled over and pooled into a messy puddle that dripped onto the floor.
“Fudge,” I muttered under my breath and tossed the sponge into the sink with a little too much force.
I grabbed a dish towel and mopped at the countertop, more aggressively than necessary. The frustration wasn’t about the mess, though—it was abouthim. The faceless creep who had turned our lives upside down. The man I hadn’t been able to find fast enough and now would probably fall through the cracks. My family deserved peace.Ethandeserved peace.
My phone buzzed in my pocket. I paused and wiped my damp hands on the towel before pulling it out. The message lit up my screen.
Ethan
Could we go for a walk on the beach? Maybe out of town? Trying to figure out a plot twist.
A small smile tugged at my lips and broke through the storm cloud in my head. Leave it to Ethan to make everything feel a little brighter, even when his book stumped him.
I quickly typed back:
Be over in 5.
I grabbed my keys and headed to Ethan’s.
At a beach a few miles north of Seacliff Cove, the wind whipped off the ocean and carried the sharp tang of salt and the distant cries of gulls. I shoved my hands deeper into the pockets of my jacket and glanced sideways at Ethan. He’d hunched his shoulders against the chilly breeze, his curls ruffled and messy around the edges of his ball cap. He spoke animatedly about plot holes and red herrings. Most of it went over my head, butI sensed that what he needed was a listening ear, someone to bounce ideas off of.
I could do that. Occasionally, I interjected with what I hoped was an intelligent question, but otherwise, I let him talk about his sticky plot problem.
The pounding of footsteps behind us broke through the sound of the waves. A runner, moving fast, barreled into Ethan.
“Hey!” Ethan yelped as he went down hard onto the sand.
The guy—a man with a dark hoodie pulled low over his face—stumbled, barely catching himself. “Sorry!” he barked over his shoulder, but he didn’t stop.
Adrenaline shot through me like a bullet. “Stay here,” I growled, already breaking into a sprint.
“Garrett! Stop! That’s not him!” Ethan’s shout carried on the breeze.
The guy was fast, but I was faster. My sneakers dug into the sand as I closed the gap between us. I launched myself and tackled him to the ground. He grunted as we hit the sand, and I whipped out my badge, shoving it in his face.
“Who are you?” I demanded, my voice low and dangerous. “Why were you following us? Why did you attack Ethan?”
The man raised his hands defensively, his face twisted in confusion. “I wasn’t following anyone! It was an accident!”
I tightened my grip on his arm. “Accident?” I spat the word. “You’re not getting away with assault.”
I glanced back to see Ethan hurrying toward us as he brushed sand off his jacket. My heart squeezed at the sight of him—rumpled, vulnerable, too damn close to danger.
