Page 20 of Tides of Change (Seacliff Cove #2)

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Ethan

The soft light of morning filtered through the slats of my blinds.

I sat at my desk, pen poised over a page of the notebook beside my laptop.

I tapped the pen on the paper, a metronome ticking away the seconds of my distracted thoughts.

I was supposed to be brainstorming the next chapter of my book, but my mind refused to cooperate.

Instead, I kept replaying the events of the previous night.

The stalker’s latest act felt like he’d crossed a line.

Smashing the pumpkin wasn’t just a petty, anonymous act of vandalism—it was a deliberate taunt.

The way he had stared directly into the camera, raising his middle finger in mockery, sent a chill through me, even now.

My stomach churned with a toxic mix of anger and unease.

He was getting bolder. How long before he snapped?

I leaned back in my chair and scrubbed my hands over my face.

The silence of the house felt oppressive, pressing down on me like a weight.

Last night, I managed to maintain a veneer of calm for Noah’s sake.

But now, alone with my thoughts, the gravity of the situation bore down on me. What would the stalker do next?

My gaze drifted to the notebook on my desk, where I’d jotted down loose ideas for my next chapter.

Jake Slate faced his own shadowy threat, an antagonist that lurked just out of sight.

The book was just a story—a carefully crafted narrative to thrill readers—but now it felt like my life was bleeding onto the page.

The parallels were too close, the lines between reality and fiction blurring in ways that left me unnerved.

I tried to focus, to force my mind back to the plot I’d been constructing, but my thoughts kept straying to Garrett.

His staunch presence had been a balm against the chaos.

The way he’d calmly handled the situation, prioritizing Noah’s happiness while still quietly taking control, left me in awe.

Garrett was a force of nature—unflinching, dependable, and protective.

And then there was the moment at the end of the night.

Our gazes had locked, and for a heartbeat, everything else faded away.

There had been a warmth in his eyes, a silent understanding that went deeper than words.

My chest lightened at the memory, a flutter of something that was growing between us. Garrett made me feel…special.

It wasn’t just the physical safety of knowing he’d protect me from the stalker. It was the way he made me laugh in the face of anxiety, the way he eased the constant tension in my shoulders. For a man whose life had become a tangled mess of fear and uncertainty, Garrett was a sanctuary.

I smiled to myself despite the heavy thoughts weighing me down. Garrett shouldered some of my burden.

My thoughts freed, I brainstormed the next chapter. The words flowed easily after that.

Before I knew it, the light outside had faded, and evening had crept in. I realized I’d worked through lunch without even noticing. My stomach growled in protest, a hollow ache that forced me to push back from my desk.

I stood and stretched until my spine cracked. A groan escaped my lips as I worked out the stiffness in my back and shoulders.

The backyard motion sensor floodlight flicked on.

The sudden brightness engulfed the room, sharp and intrusive. My pulse kicked up instantly. Probably just a cat or a breeze. Still, I parted the blinds and peered through the slats.

Nothing.

The bushes swayed in the breeze. No shadows, no movement shifted ominously along the tall wooden fence. Just me, overreacting. Again.

I let the blinds fall shut and blew out a breath. Still unsettled, I made my way to the kitchen. Food wouldn’t fix the tension crawling up my spine, but it was a start.

Leftover chicken and vegetables called my name, and I set about reheating dinner. The clink of silverware and the hum of the microwave filled the quiet. Routine tasks, relaxing and familiar. I needed that sense of normalcy right now.

But normal wasn’t what my life was anymore.

After eating, I loaded the dishwasher and wiped down the counters in wide swipes, lost in thought about my current chapter. Then my phone chimed.

The security camera notification.

I froze, and a shiver ran down my spine. Slowly, I meticulously dried my hands on a dish towel as I tried to steady myself. But my heart thumped hard against my ribs, an erratic beat of dread.

With trembling fingers, I pulled up the feed.

The screen was black.

Frowning, I rewound the footage, breath held tight in my chest. There he was—the same hooded, masked figure as before, walking up to my porch like he owned the place.

Gutsy. His movements were calm, almost casual, as he raised a can of spray paint.

A cold rush of fear flooded me as I watched black paint splatter across the camera lens, blotting out the view.

Then, nothing.

The feed went dark.

I stood there and stared at my phone, the edges digging into my palm. My mind raced. Was he still out there? Watching? Waiting?

I texted Garrett, my fingers clumsy on the keys.

Someone spray-painted the camera. Same guy. What do I do?

His response was immediate.

Stay inside. Do NOT go out to clean the camera. I’m coming over.

What about Noah?

He’s with my parents for the weekend.

Minutes stretched into eternity as I paced the entryway and glanced at the door every few seconds. Each creak of the house, each rustle of wind outside, set my nerves on edge. My heart hadn’t stopped pounding since the notification.

The knock startled me, sending a rush of adrenaline through my veins.

“It’s Garrett,” he called, his voice steady, calming.

Relief hit me like a wave and crashed through the anxiety that had built inside me. I unlatched the door and pulled it open, the sight of him immediately easing the tightness in my chest.

Garrett stood there with a stepladder tucked under one arm, a bottle of rubbing alcohol in his hand, and a rag slung over his shoulder. His blue eyes scanned me briefly from head to toe. His presence was solid and reassuring, like an anchor holding me steady against the storm inside my head.

“You came prepared,” I murmured, my voice hoarse.

His lips curved into a small smile. “I figured you wouldn’t have this stuff lying around in a rental.”

I held out my hands, suddenly wanting to take the task from him, to feel in control of something. “I can do it.”

“No,” he said firmly, his gaze locking on mine with authority. “I’m going to take pictures for the report, and then I’ll clean it. You’re staying inside.”

“But—”

“No arguments.” His tone softened, but the resolve remained. “I don’t want you out here, Ethan.”

His protective stance—always so calm, so sure—made my throat tighten. What would I do without Garrett? The thought of facing my stalker alone sent a shiver through me. He wasn’t just offering the support of the sheriff’s office. He was offering himself as a…friend. His strength, his time, his care.

Reluctantly, I nodded and closed the door. I locked it and flipped the deadbolt with a click that seemed to echo louder than it should have. As I walked in circles in the small entryway, the tension in my body built with each step. Every second Garrett spent outside felt like a century.

Finally, his voice came through the door. “Check your feed.”

I pulled up the video. Garrett stood on the porch and gave the camera a small wave.

The image was crystal clear.

I smiled, warmth blooming in my chest despite the anxiety still lingering there. “Looks good,” I called through the door.

The porch light cast a glow over Garrett’s face, highlighting his dark hair and the unruly lock that had fallen over his forehead. He brushed it back with one hand, but it slipped free again. For a moment, all I could think about was how good he looked standing there, framed by the soft light.

I opened the door. “Do you want to come in and wash your hands?”

He left his supplies on the porch and stepped in. His shoulders relaxed as he crossed the threshold.

I gestured toward the hallway. “Bathroom’s straight ahead.”

He disappeared for a moment, and when he returned, the faint scent of my woodsy hand soap clung to him. Something about that pleased me, a quiet, unspoken claim. My soap, my home. Garrett here.

“Thank you,” I said, barely above a whisper.

His gaze softened. “I’ve got your back.”

The air between us thickened with a buzzing current of electricity.

My pulse quickened, my heartbeat loud in my ears as he took a hesitant step closer.

The soft glow of the overhead light cast shadows across Garrett’s face, highlighting the sharp angle of his jaw, the dark sweep of his lashes, and that unruly lock of hair.

His gaze locked on mine, and the intensity stole my breath. There was no indecision in his expression—only certainty, only want.

I swallowed hard, my throat suddenly dry. Everything I’d been holding back crashed into the need building inside me. My fingers twitched at my sides and ached to reach for him.

And then, as if something had snapped between us, we moved at the same time.

Garrett gripped my face with a desperate reverence. His touch was firm yet trembled. I clutched his shoulders and pulled him closer. Any space between us was unbearable.

When his lips met mine, the kiss was anything but gentle. It was fierce and frantic, a collision of lips and breath that stole the air from my lungs. It wasn’t careful or soft—it was raw, all-consuming, like the release of everything we’d been holding back.

My back hit the door, but I barely registered the impact. All I could focus on was Garrett—the way his fingers tangled in my hair, the way his lips moved against mine with a hunger that matched my own. His kiss tasted of heat and desperation.

I gasped against his mouth, and he deepened the kiss.

His tongue slid against mine, and the velvety glide sent a shiver down my spine.

My hands slipped from his shoulders to his chest, and I felt the rapid thud of his heart beneath my palms. His heartbeat matched mine, wild and erratic, as if we were both caught in a storm we had no desire to escape.

Garrett pressed closer, his body flush against mine. The bulge of his hard cock thrust against mine, and I groaned. I clung to him, needing the contact, needing him. Every touch, every brush of his lips, was a fresh experience. A step forward into whatever this was between us.

When we finally broke apart, we were both breathing hard and our chests heaved in unison. Garrett’s hands remained on my face, his thumbs brushing my cheekbones in a tender contrast to the urgency of the kiss we’d just shared.

Garrett’s gaze held mine, a promise lingering in the depths of his blue eyes. He leaned in again and brushed a softer kiss to my lips.

Everything had shifted between us.

Where would we go from here? We hadn’t done anything more than kiss, yet they’d been the best kisses of my entire life. Hot, needy, earth-shattering.

What would it be like to take things further?