Page 53 of Tides of Change
“Let him go,” Ethan said, his tone soothing but firm. “He’s not the stalker. He’s too big.” He shook my shoulder.
I turned back to the runner. He was tall, broad-shouldered, and definitely not the wiry figure from the security footage.
I exhaled through clenched teeth and released my grip. “Fine. But if I find out you’re lying, I’ll track you down myself.”
The man scrambled to his feet. “You’re insane,” he muttered and glared at me before jogging away.
“Are you okay?” I stepped closer to Ethan. My hands found his shoulders, then his arms, checking him over for injuries. “Did he hurt you? Are you dizzy? Did you hit your head?”
“I’m fine.” His mouth flattened into a tight line. “I promise. But…” He shook his head.
But I couldn’t stop. My fingers brushed over his jacket, then his sides, then his arms again, searching for any sign of damage. My heart thundered in my chest, louder than the waves crashing nearby.
When I found nothing wrong, I exhaled heavily, pulled him into a hug, and wrapped my arms tightly around him. I didn’t care that we were in public. I didn’t care who was watching.
“He scared the hell out of me,” I murmured into his ear. “He could have?—”
Ethan stiffened in my arms and pushed back with his hands against my chest. His face was flushed, but not from embarrassment or the chilly wind—it was anger.
“You can’t do that, Garrett,” he snapped, low but sharp enough to cut through the sound of the waves, mindful of our wide-eyed audience.
I froze, caught off guard. “Do what?”
“That.” He gestured toward the sand where I’d tackled the runner. “Overreact. That guy wasn’t the stalker—you should have seen that.”
“I was trying to protect you,” I shot back and felt the heat rise in my face.
“Protect me? Garrett, you went full-out deputy on some random jogger.” His eyes blazed, hurt laced through the anger.“You didn’t even think. You justreacted. That’s not protecting me. That’s putting yourself at risk.”
The words hit me like a slap. My jaw tightened as I tried to push down the frustration bubbling up. “I wasn’t going to let him get away if hewasthe stalker,” I said more quietly, but no less defensively.
Ethan shook his head, his shoulders tense. “You didn’t listen to me. You didn’t trust me when I said he wasn’t the guy.”
I opened my mouth to argue, but the look in his eyes stopped me cold. He wasn’t just angry—he was hurt.
“I know you want to solve this case, officially or not,” he said, his tone softening. “But you can’t bulldoze through it. It won’t help either of us.”
For a long moment, I just stood there, the wind biting at my face. I clenched and unclenched my fists at my sides. He was right. As much as I hated to admit it, he was right.
“I’m sorry,” I said finally, the words heavy on my tongue. “I just…I can’t stand the thought of anything happening to you.”
Ethan’s expression gentled, but the tension didn’t entirely leave his shoulders. “I know. But you have to trust me. Can you do that?”
I nodded and swallowed past the lump in my throat. “Yeah. I can do that.”
Ethan studied me for a moment, then sighed. “Come on. Let’s go. I’m cold.”
As we started walking again, the weight of his words settled over me. He was right—I couldn’t overreact. I was allowing my feelings for Ethan to color my reflexes. I needed to step back and act like a professional.
But I couldn’t find it in my heart to step back. He was beginning to matter more than I ever expected.
I held out my hand. “Let’s warm up with a pumpkin spice latte.” I knew a place nearby. It wasn’t The Coffee Cove, but it would do.
He slotted his hand in mine, and my heart steadied. As we left the beach, I felt a surge of pride at having him by my side, Sarge’s warning be darned.
The familiar creak of my front door announced our arrival as I nudged it open with my shoulder. I juggled my keys and my coffee. Ethan followed close behind, his quiet footsteps loud in the house’s stillness. The faint scent of roasted beans wafted between us, mingling with the crisp salt air that clung to our jackets.
“Shoes off, coat on the rack.” I flashed him a sheepish grin, my cheeks heating. “Please,” I added. “I’m used to reminding Noah.”
