Page 66 of Tides of Change
Harper smirked and mouthed to Garrett, “Kiss ass.”
I suppressed a grin as I stood and stacked the dirty plates. Harper and Garrett joined me in the kitchen with loads of dishes.
Harper stored leftovers while I scraped plates, and Garrett filled the sink with soapy water. “Looks like you two have the night to yourselves.” She wiggled her eyebrows.
Garrett rolled his eyes. “Thanks, Harper.”
But I couldn’t help the thrill that ran through me at the thought of spending another evening with Garrett.
After cleaning the kitchen and saying goodbye to his family and Noah, we left with enough leftovers for an apocalypse. But when we arrived at my house, a chill settled over me. Sitting on my doorstep was a photo of Garrett and me at the redwood grove. During our lively conversation at dinner, I hadn’t noticed the chime of my security feed. When I pulled up the video, I discovered that Finch had looked directly into the camera.
Garrett tensed beside me. “He’s getting bolder.”
My stomach churned. “What now?”
“Call it in. But I’m staying here tonight,” he said firmly. “No argument.”
I just nodded and unlocked the door, knowing sleep would be impossible tonight.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Ethan
Hours later, a trio of knocks sounded a quick tattoo on my door. “It’s me,” came Garrett’s muffled voice.
My pulse thrummed as I quickly unlocked the door. The moment I swung it open, a gust of cold, briny air rushed in with him, curling around us. I locked the door behind him. The click of the deadbolt was the exclamation mark at the end of the sentence.
Garrett’s mouth was set in a grim line, his posture rigid, as if the weight of his job pressed down on him. My stomach sank.
“Larson said canvassing the neighborhood was a bust. No one saw Finch or a suspicious character in a hoodie come or go. Unfamiliar cars were parked on the street, but Thanksgiving visitors could have been responsible. He ran the plates on any remaining unknown cars, but none were stolen.”
I exhaled slowly and frustration settled deep in my chest. It was as if Finch had vanished into thin air, leaving behind nothing but the photo—a taunt, a reminder that he was always watching. The thought sent a prickle of unease down my spine, but even that couldn’t quite drown out the low hum of anticipation beneath my skin. Garrett was staying the night.
Sure, he was here to protect me. But the last time we’d spent the night together, we’d crossed an unspoken line, acknowledging something more between us. Something fragile, new. I had spent years knowing who I was, what I wanted. But Garrett was still navigating those waters, feeling out his own sexuality. And so, I followed his lead, waiting, hoping. I wondered if tonight we’d cross another line together.
Garrett set his duffel bag down with a heavy clunk, pulling me from my thoughts.
I raised an eyebrow. “What do you have in there? A copper pipe for the plumbing?”
My joke fell flat. Garrett’s lips didn’t even twitch. “My service revolver.”
I frowned, and my stomach tightened. “Is that necessary?”
His eyes, dark and serious, met mine. “I’m not taking any chances with you,” he said low, dangerous.
A shiver ran down my spine. It wasn’t just the words—it was the way he said them, the raw protectiveness in his tone. Like he wasn’t just guarding me out of duty, but because losing me wasn’t an option he was willing to consider.
I swallowed hard, my throat dry. “Okay,” I whispered.
Garrett nodded once, his expression unreadable, but I caught the flicker of something deeper behind his eyes. Tension coiled between us, a charged energy neither of us seemed ready to name.
He moved first. One second, we were standing in the thick silence, the next, he’d pressed me against the wall, his hands firm on my hips, his body crowding into mine. The breath rushed out of my lungs, and my pulse hammered against my ribs. Garrett’s grip tightened, and his fingertips dug into my sides like he needed to anchor himself—or maybe me.
“Tell me to stop,” he murmured, voice rough, but I heard the restraint, the barely leashed control behind the words.
I didn’t want him to stop. I wanted more.
Instead of answering, I reached for him, curled my fingers into the fabric of his sweater, and tugged him closer. His breath ghosted over my lips, and then he kissed me.
