Page 5

The sun barely peeked over the horizon when Ethan climbed out of bed. As usual, he and Thor set out for their morning walk. The crisp air carried the scent of dew-soaked grass, and the steady rhythm of Thor's paws on the sidewalk echoed through the quiet streets. Their routine was familiar, comforting—a grounding ritual for both of them.

They stopped at the local coffee shop, where Ethan ordered his usual large black coffee and a caramel macchiato for Star. He knew she was an early riser, so arriving at her place that time of morning wouldn't be an intrusion. Thor sat obediently by his side, eyes fixed on the counter. His tail wagged with restrained excitement as they waited.

The barista and owner of the shop, Bianca, leaned over the counter with a wide smile. “Good morning, handsome,” she cooed, holding out a small cup filled with whipped cream. “And good morning to you, too, Ethan,” she added with a wink.

Thor's ears perked as he eagerly accepted the treat, his tongue diving into the fluffy white goodness. For an old wolf, he still had a puppy-like enthusiasm for his daily pup cup. Bianca, a widow in her mid-sixties, adored Thor and made homemade doggy cookies just for him. Ethan would never deprive either of them their morning ritual of cream, cookies, and affection. He watched Thor close his eyes in bliss, his whiskers coated with whipped cream.

“That dog,” Bianca said with a chuckle, “could charm a steak right off a butcher's block.”

“Yeah, well, don't let his sweet face fool you,” Ethan replied, giving Thor's head a fond pat. “He's a teddy bear until someone makes a move they shouldn't.”

“Good boy,” Bianca whispered as she rubbed Thor's ears one last time.

With both coffees in hand, Ethan turned toward Star's house, his mind drifting to the voicemail she'd sent the night before. The message had been vague but enough to stir concern. She'd insisted she was fine. Otherwise, he would've been on her doorstep regardless of the hour. Still, her tone had been off. Star rarely downplayed trouble. When she needed help, she said so outright.

Ethan carefully climbed the porch steps, balancing the drinks in one hand as he rang the doorbell. The familiar Westminster chimes sang softly from the back of the house.

“Oh, poo! Hold on! Just a minute!” Star's voice floated from within, fraught with frustration. “No, no, no! Dang it!”

Ethan's brow furrowed. He tested the doorknob and found it unlocked. “Strike one,” he muttered under his breath as he pushed the door open and stepped inside. “Star?”

“Over here!”

Her exasperated voice drew him toward the staircase. Thor padded ahead, his nails clicking on the hardwood floors. Ethan turned the corner and froze.

The staircase was a disaster zone. Three distinct stain colors dripped down the steps like a melted art project gone horribly wrong. Thick streaks pooled along the edges, creating glossy puddles.

He lifted his gaze to find Star standing at the top of the stairs. Her hair was askew, her cheeks streaked with various colors of stain, and a sticky handprint decorated the side of her face.

“Star,” Ethan said, blinking in disbelief. “It looks like Jackson Pollock puked all over your stairs. Were you in a paint war, or is this a new design concept?”

“It's called retro chic spillage,” she huffed, throwing her hands in the air. “The stairs are winning the war, and no one told me a war had been declared.” She swiped at her forehead, adding another streak of whiskey-colored stain to the mess. Ethan bit the inside of his cheek to stop his laugh.

“Did you bring me coffee? That’s so sweet.” She lifted her hands. “I can’t drink it right now. Never mind, I'll warm it up later. I need to clean this mess before it hardens.”

“I’ll put them on the table,” Ethan said, placing the cups down. “What do you need me to do?”

Star pointed toward the parlor. “There's a huge box of rags in there. Grab those. Oh, and there are garbage bags in the kitchen under the sink. We'll have to throw the soaked ones away. No saving them.”

Ethan commanded Thor to stay. Star didn't need tri-colored paw prints to add to her home's current abstract decor. The dog obeyed immediately, sitting beside the coffee table with a sigh.

“You know,” Ethan said as he stepped into the parlor, “if you ever get tired of home renovation, you could always start a performance art career.” He waved at the mess. “People pay money to see things like this in museums.”

“Don't tempt me,” she muttered.

Ethan smiled as he gathered the rags, vaguely wondering what other disasters the Star Curse would summon next. He stopped in his tracks. No, don’t start thinking things like that. He didn’t want to actually manifest something else.

Ethan hefted the large cardboard box of rags and carried it to the foot of the stairs before heading to the kitchen. He crouched, rummaging through the cupboards until he found a box of black garbage bags. With the supplies in hand, he climbed the stairs, passing over the sticky stains and handing Star a generous armful of rags while she battled the spill from the top. He crouched at the bottom, mopping the residue off the hardwood steps.

“You're here awful early,” Star said, twisting a soaked rag and dropping it into the open garbage bag with a splat. “I mean, I get it, you're usually up early anyway, and I’m always doing something ridiculous by sunrise, but still … it’s early even for you. Unless you couldn’t sleep? Or maybe you ran out of dog food for Thor and decided caffeine was the answer? Or maybe—oh wait—my message freaked you out, didn’t it? Right. Sorry about that.”

Ethan swiped a swirled puddle from the next step and dropped the rag into the trash. “Yeah, your message left me a little shaken. I was concerned for your wellbeing.” He gave her a sidelong glance. “Although, to be fair, I'm always concerned about your wellbeing.”

Her eyes widened. “Oh no, I didn’t mean to upset you! It really could’ve waited. I mean, yeah, it was weird and creepy and gave me the heebie-jeebies, but I wasn't in immediate danger or anything. Plus, you were out to dinner, and I figured you’d need time to digest or whatever.” She swiped more clear, sticky stain with a rag and twisted it so it wouldn’t drip before tossing it into the garbage bag. “And to be honest, I started thinking about it last night, and then I got nervous. So, instead of just calling you again, like a rational adult, I thought, 'Hey, let’s test the new stain colors on the stairs!' Which … well, clearly, it was a mistake.”

Ethan smothered a laugh and pointed toward the dripping mess. “Yeah, I’d call it more of a catastrophic lapse in judgment.”

“Hey!” Star huffed, swiping a strand of hair from her face and leaving another streak across her forehead. “You try sitting alone at night, replaying something creepy in your head, and tell me if you don’t start making bad decisions. Plus, who knew stain was this runny? The directions said easy application. That was a bald-faced lie.”

Chuckling, he tossed a saturated rag into the garbage bag. “Okay, fair point. So, you mentioned overhearing a conversation?”

“Actually …” Star paused, biting her bottom lip. “I didn’t overhear it. I mean, yeah, I was near it, but I wasn’t eavesdropping or anything. My dictation app picked it up.”

Ethan stopped mid-wipe and looked up at her. “And you waited until now to tell me this because …?”

“Well, yeah.” She gave a sheepish shrug. “I saw you were out to dinner. Was that, like, a friend of yours or something?”

Ethan shook his head, wiping another step. “No. That was my dad.”

Star brightened instantly. “Really? You don’t look anything like him! He’s all dark and broody, and you’re fair and … well, a little less broody. I bet you take after your mom. Am I right? Do I get a prize for guessing correctly?”

“Yeah, I take after my mom,” Ethan said with a smirk. “He’s my adoptive dad, actually. But you’re right. I probably resemble my biological dad more.”

Star froze mid-rag-twist. “Wait. You have brothers, right? Half-brothers? I mean, I know we talk a lot, but we usually get sidetracked by my latest disaster.”

“Yeah, I have two half-brothers. And one very big extended family. Honorary cousins, aunts, uncles … the whole chaotic mess.”

“Wow. I can’t even imagine.” Star shook her head as she cleaned the banister. “I mean, I have me. So, basically just me … and you. And Thor. Thor totally counts.”

Thor thumped his tail on the floor as if agreeing.

Ethan chuckled. “Thor's definitely family.”

“So … your biological dad … is he still … you know …” Star trailed off awkwardly.

Ethan’s jaw tightened. “No. He’s not.”

Star’s eyes widened, and her mouth formed a small ‘O.’ “Gotcha. We won't talk about that, then.”

“Good plan.” Ethan tossed his last soaked rag into the bag. “So, about that conversation?”

Star tied the trash bag shut, and then Ethan carried it outside to dispose of it properly. Paint, varnish, and stain required careful handling. The last thing Star needed was a fine from the city.

When he returned, she stood at the kitchen sink, scrubbing her hands with industrial-strength soap. The kitchen was dim, with the first rays of sunlight filtering through the windows. Ethan joined her, and they washed in companionable silence.

After grabbing their coffee cups, they settled at the linoleum table. The chairs creaked beneath them, their vinyl seats cracked with age. Thor lumbered into the kitchen and flopped down beside Ethan's feet with a huff.

Star pulled her phone from her pocket and slid it across the table with a single finger as if the device might explode.

“Here,” she said, her voice trembling. “This is what it recorded. It’s bad. I think.”

Ethan arched a brow. “Bad?”

“Yea, just open it.” Star popped the lid off her coffee and inhaled deeply. “Oh! Caramel macchiato. Thank you for remembering!”

Ethan’s jaw tightened as he swiped the phone’s screen. “You don’t have a security code on your phone?”

She shook her head, eyes wide with confusion. “Nope. I don’t see the need. It’s not like I live with anyone or have any secrets.” She took a long sip from her cup and gave him an innocent smile.

Ethan closed his eyes and rubbed the bridge of his nose. Ah. So, that was why Jason—and half the other operatives at Guardian—had perfected the bridge of the nose-pinch move. Sometimes, you just needed a moment to collect yourself when dealing with absolute chaos in human form.

“Star, sweetheart,” he said, his voice low. “Do you know how much information someone can get about you—your finances, your habits, your entire life—from this phone?”

Star froze with her cup halfway to her lips. “You called me sweetheart.”

The growl that rumbled from Ethan’s chest was entirely involuntary. “I’m sorry if that offended you,” he said through clenched teeth. “But you need a security code on this phone—minimum of six digits. And you should never, ever give it to anyone. Hackers can crack a phone like this in seconds. Even amateurs could get enough information from this to wreck your life.”

Her smile faltered. “I guess I never thought about it. I mean, when I need to open an app or get directions, it’s just easier to swipe. Or use the face recognition thing.”

“Yeah, convenient. But convenience comes with risk. And there are some very bad people out there, Star. People who go after easy targets.”

She lowered the cup and rubbed the back of her neck. “You think someone could get my information just like that?”

“If I had my laptop, I could probably tell you your banking balances, loan histories, credit score, and all the numbers of your debit and credit cards within ten seconds based on what’s stored here.” He tapped the phone for emphasis.

Her mouth dropped open. “And that right there is why I called you last night!” She jabbed a finger at him, then at the phone. “You're the security expert, right? I mean, you have your own security business.”

“Yes,” Ethan said, his frown deepening. “I am, and I do. And now, I’m wondering if I need to give you a crash course in personal data safety before you broadcast your social security number on social media.”

Star huffed out a breath. “Okay, okay. I’ll add a security code. But that’s not why I called. I was at the hardware store yesterday and?—”

“You mentioned that,” Ethan interrupted. “But you didn’t tell me what happened.”

“Right. Okay, so,” Star continued, launching into a flurry of words, “I was at the hardware store yesterday. Well, actually, I went to the deli first and had coffee with Mrs. Harvey—you know her, right? Sweet lady. Anyway, we were chatting about her new garden gnomes, and then I picked up dinner, which I totally forgot to eat.” She frowned. “Huh. I probably should’ve eaten that. So … after I left the deli?—”

“You forgot to eat?” Ethan cut in, brow arching.

She gave a sheepish laugh. “Yeah, happens sometimes. Anyway, after the deli, I went to the hardware store. I needed varnish remover. Which I did get, by the way. But then I saw the caulk display. I can’t resist wandering around a hardware store. So, I was checking out the caulk aisle—because, seriously, who knew there were so many types of caulk? Then, the hardware store clerk told me about this big stain display. I needed some samples, so naturally, I went over.”

Ethan rested his forehead on his fist, bracing himself. “Naturally.”

Star’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t judge me. And you know how I feel about asking for help when I know I can totally solve a problem myself.”

“Yeah,” Ethan muttered. “You ignore logic, climb something, and it all ends in disaster.”

“Exactly!” She paused. “Wait, that wasn’t nice.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. It’s true. So, I climbed up to get the stain—carefully—and the next thing I know? I’m sprawled on the floor with a mountain of paint cans all around me. Like, full-on avalanche.”

Ethan shook his head. “Of course, you were.”

“But that’s not the weird part,” Star said, voice dropping to a whisper. She took the phone back and pointed to it, almost whispering, “While I was lying there, two guys walked around the corner and looked at me. They asked how long I’d been there. And what I’d been doing. Not if I was okay or what happened.”

Ethan sat up straighter. “Weird. What did you say?”

“Right? Completely out of left field. I said I’d been there maybe five minutes. I mean, that’s true. And I told them I was looking at the stain colors because, well, I was. But they just looked at each other. Like I’d said something important.” Her lips pressed together in a worried line. “It was weird. Super weird. And when the clerk came over to help me, they left.”

Ethan’s expression darkened. “Did you recognize them?”

Star shook her head. “No. I mean, they looked … average. Regular guys. But it freaked me out. Especially when I checked my phone at the checkout and realized my dictation app had been running the whole time. I dropped my phone in the cart before climbing Mount Stainerest. I’d forgotten I’d started dictating about the caulk.”

Ethan’s pulse kicked up a notch. “Let me see.”

She slid the phone back across the table like it might bite her. “Here.”

Ethan stared at Star and wondered, not for the first time, if any thought-tracks in her brain ever ran parallel. Or even in the same direction.

“Right,” he said slowly. “So, the conversation is …?” He tried again to piece together her chaotic narrative.

Star gave an exasperated sigh. “I’d opened my dictation app and was leaving myself a note about the caulk, as I said. You know, the ones I’d seen and the ones I wanted to check out later. I was talking about the needed characteristics—flexibility, weather resistance, non-toxic, environmentally sound—stuff like that.” She lifted her hands as if her explanation was the most obvious thing in the world.

Ethan blinked and nodded slowly, hoping the story would eventually come together. “Okay … and?”

Star took another sip of her coffee, licking a bit of whipped cream from her lip. “Anyway, I rounded the corner and ran into Kyle. Which was … well, never mind. Just something I deal with.”

“Kyle?” Ethan’s brows lowered. “Who's Kyle?”

She sighed dramatically. “The clerk at the hardware store. He’s … um … interested in me. I think he’d call it attracted.”

Ethan felt his back stiffen. His grip on the coffee cup tightened slightly. “Right. And you return this attraction?”

Star’s eyes went wide, pupils practically doubling in size. “Not at all! I mean, he’s not awful or anything, but he’s not …” She hesitated and then glanced up at Ethan, her lips curling into a sly smile. “Let's just say he's not my ideal. And I don't want to settle for less than my ideal.”

Ethan's pulse stuttered. Who in the hell was her ideal? He gave a short nod and cleared his throat. “Okay. So … the conversation was with Kyle, then?”

“No, no, no,” she said, waving her hands so wildly she nearly sloshed her coffee onto the floor. “Kyle was telling me about some new stain colors. One of them was exactly what I needed! It was this light reddish tint that matched the color under the old varnish. You saw it when you helped me clean up the mess. I really, really wanted that one. But, of course, it was on the top of the display.”

“Display?” Ethan’s eyes narrowed, a twinge of unease running through him.

“Yep. A big ol’ pyramid display of gallon cans. I mean, who thought stacking twelve feet of cans was a good idea?” Star shrugged.

Ethan rubbed his temple, starting to see daylight at the end of this conversational tunnel. “Okay, so … your dictation app was running, and the phone was at the end of the aisle while you were climbing the display?”

“Exactly!” Star pointed at him with enthusiasm. “See? You're keeping up!”

“Just barely,” Ethan muttered. “So, you were climbing the display …”

Star sighed dramatically. “Yep. And twelve feet of paint cans came tumbling down around me. Wham, boom, thunk—everywhere.”

Ethan blinked owlishly. “Of course, they did. Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” she said with a shrug. “My pride took a hit. But you know I don’t have much left. Honestly, I usually don't get hurt when stuff like that happens. I told you that, right?”

“Yeah. You mentioned it yesterday when you fell off the ladder. And at least three times before that.”