Page 70 of Fast Currents
“Hey! Living together doesnotmean you have fifty-percent custody of my French toast,” I cried, stabbing my fork into the pilfered piece.
“What about if I share half of my Migas?”
Nick watched us over the rim of his mug, eyes twinkling, as I bargained for my share of Clay’s breakfast without giving up all of mine. I couldn’t let him think that, just because I loved him, all the fight had gone out of me.
“Boundaries are healthy,” I mumbled, swallowing, then grinned. “Just ask your therapist.”
Nick’s shoulders shook with silent laughter. “She’s got you there,” he said, admiration in the curve of his mouth.
Clay puffed up beside me. “She has me, always,” he corrected.
Nick waved off our offer to pay, confirming he’d be in touch for my official statement and slipping out of the diner.
Clay walked me home after breakfast. We turned the corner toward Glass House—and stopped short. It was still early. Most of the other businesses on my street were still closed, which might explain how the slogan sprayed across the Glass House front window had escaped notice.
CURIOSITY HAS CONSEQUENCES
The word choice narrowed the suspect pool.
Clay’s hand tightened around mine. “You’d think he’d at least go with something basic. I mean, ‘stop digging’ wasright there. Do you have cameras?”
I snapped a quick picture of the message before swiping a finger across the bright red missive. Dry. Whoever sprayed this, it was a while ago.
“That one,” I pointed to the camera above Glass House’s front door, “is a fake. Just for show.” I swung my finger to an intricate starburst sculpture in my front window. “But that one’s real.”
“Do you want the Sheriff’s Office or Nick?”
“Nick,” I said. “Sheriff Walker will have questions about why someone’s harassing me.”
I texted Nick the photo of the damage to the outside of the shop and unlocked my front door, careful not to touch anything. Clay prowled the aisles, inspecting my work area.
“Nothing seems amiss inside.”
Slowly, my shoulders unclenched. Paint was annoying, but damage to my annealer would have been disastrous. It took me a few moments to retrieve the hidden camera footage from last night. Clay and I scrolled through the frames.
A figure in a black hoodie approached Glass House’s front window. Two minutes later, they disappeared, shoulders hunched. But not without leaving their mark. The video was too grainy to get a good screen grab of the vandal’s identity, but Clay’s grim frown confirmed my suspicions.
“It’s the right height and body type for Chaz, even if you can’t clearly see his face.”
“Yep.” A shiver ran down my spine.
Clay dropped his hand to the small of my back, rubbing in small circles. “I think we should pack your things and get you moved into my place like yesterday. I don’t want you living here alone. Not after today.”
Slowly, I nodded. Agent Harris’s warrant couldn’t come fast enough for me. Chaz needed bigger things to worry about than me.
My phone pinged.
Agent Harris: Island Muse didn’t open today. A car matching the description of Chaz’s boarded the ferry this morning. He may be in the wind.
I stared at the screen a moment before showing it to Clay.
“Good. Let him run. He won’t come near you again. Not while I’m breathing.”
It wasn’t just the promise in Clay’s voice; it was the calm certainty, the absolute belief I was worth protecting. Even when I dragged him into mess after mess. God help me, I loved him more for it.
I’d done what I could. Turned over the evidence. Protected what mattered. And if Chaz tried to come for me again, I wouldn’t be alone.
Chapter 29 – Lucy
