Page 30 of Tides of Change (Seacliff Cove #2)

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

Garrett

My car’s tires crunched over gravel as I pulled into the parking lot at the ark. The towering trees framed the lot like silent sentinels. Noah and I had walked this easy loop trail many times over the years, his small hand in mine as we marveled at banana slugs and chased the echoes of birdcalls.

Noah. The thought of him tightened my chest, guilt worming its way in.

Another weekend apart. Another missed adventure with my boy.

I could picture his eager face as he’d climbed into Ava’s parents’ car last night, bundled in his puffer jacket and gripping his mittens.

He’d been so excited about the trip to their cabin in Tahoe, giddy at the chance to see snowflakes dust the world in white.

I’d hugged him fiercely before he left, breathing in the scent of his shampoo and telling myself it was okay—he deserved that fun, even if it meant the house felt emptier.

But my guilt wasn’t just about Noah. A part of it, if I was being honest, stemmed from the anticipation humming in my chest. Spending the weekend with Ethan was something I’d looked forward to all week.

He’d made significant progress on his book and taken the day off, something I knew didn’t come easily.

I glanced at him across the console, his profile lit by a shaft of sunlight breaking through the clouds. His jawline was strong, his short beard neatly trimmed, and his expression relaxed. I reached over and squeezed his thigh, firm under my hand. “Thanks for coming with me.”

He turned toward me. “Looking forward to it. It’s nice to get out of the house.” His lips curved into a teasing smile. “Oh, and to spend time with you, I guess,” he added with a wink.

I laughed, a low snort that broke the quiet, but inside, his words warmed me.

We climbed out of the car, the cool, damp air wrapping around us as we made our way toward the grove.

His hand found mine, fingers lacing together in a way that felt both new and natural.

A couple walking their dog gave us a sidelong glance, but I kept my chin high and refused to let their judgment touch the quiet joy buzzing between us. Fudge them.

Under the towering canopy, the temperature dipped. The air smelled of pine and rich, damp earth, with a hint of bay leaf that made me inhale deeply. A woodpecker’s rhythmic tapping echoed, answered by the mournful cry of a dove somewhere deep in the grove.

We started down the well-worn trail, our pace unhurried.

This wasn’t a hike to conquer, but a chance to soak in the towering redwoods and, more importantly, each other.

I pointed out a banana slug inching through a patch of redwood sorrel, its vibrant yellow standing out against the green.

Ethan glanced at it but seemed distracted, his gaze distant as if he were somewhere else entirely.

“What’s on your mind?” I asked, my voice low and laced with concern.

He rubbed his hand along his short beard. I recognized it as a sign he was weighing his words. “I hate taking you away from Noah,” he said finally, quiet but heavy. “I want to find the stalker so you and your son can spend your weekends together, without this hanging over you.”

His words hit like a stone in my chest, and I squeezed his hand tightly. “Don’t worry about Noah. He’s having a great time this weekend.” The truth of my words didn’t stop the ache in my chest, that hollow spot left by my boy’s absence. But having Ethan there helped fill it.

“Has there been any progress with forensics? The email I got?”

I shook my head, and frustration knotted my stomach. “There hadn’t been before Sarge took me off the case. Tech hadn’t cracked the source of the email. If Finch is as smart as he seems to be, he probably covered his tracks too well for us to trace. Since then, Ballard hasn’t kept me updated.”

Ethan’s jaw tightened, his mouth flattening into a thin, hard line. “I just want this to be over.”

I did, too, for Ethan’s safety. But I swallowed against the lump forming in my throat, my stomach twisting at the implication of his words. But then you’ll leave and return to your real family.

The thought settled heavily in my mind, unspoken but loud enough to drown out the whisper of the wind through the redwoods.

I clung to the moment instead and focused on the warmth of Ethan’s hand in mine and the comfort of the towering trees around us.

Whatever the future held, I would hold on to this—for as long as I could.

Ethan stopped so abruptly that I nearly stumbled. His entire body went rigid, and his hand clamped down on mine with a grip that bordered on painful.

“It’s him,” he whispered, his voice tight with fear.

My heart skipped a beat. “What?” I followed his wide-eyed gaze and scanned the forest until I saw him: a slim, average-height man partially concealed behind a massive redwood.

His phone was raised, the lens pointed directly at us.

Hollow cheeks, a strong jaw—features burned into my memory from the driver’s license photo I’d studied. Theodore Finch.

Adrenaline surged through me. I dropped Ethan’s hand and reached for my phone. My fingers trembled as I prepared to call for backup.

Before I could dial, Ethan let out a raw, guttural cry—a sound that spoke of months of fear, frustration, and helplessness all boiling over at once. Finch’s head jerked up, his eyes wide with alarm, and then he bolted and disappeared into the dense woods.

“Ethan, no!” I shouted as he tore after Finch.

Fuck. My pulse hammered as I sprinted after them.

The underbrush grabbed at my legs with clutching fingers.

Ferns whipped against my thighs, and vines clawed at my ankles as I pushed through the forest. I was distantly aware of the damage we were causing to the fragile ecosystem, but the pounding urgency in my chest drowned out everything else.

Finch was a stalker, a predator, and I couldn’t let him get away.

And I had a…boyfriend…to stop before he did something even more stupid.

And Ethan was charging headlong into danger. It hit me like a punch to the gut: this was exactly how he’d felt when I’d chased down the jogger who’d plowed into him. Fear, frustration, and helplessness rolled into one sickening knot in my stomach.

I dodged around tree trunks. Branches slapped at my arms. My breath sawed in and out. I strained to keep them in sight.

Ethan slowed. His steps faltered as the uneven ground took its toll.

I surged ahead and pushed past him. Finch was wiry and fast. But I was in peak shape.

The forest suddenly gave way to the gravel parking lot. The trees parted like a curtain to reveal rows of parked cars.

Finch darted between the cars. He glanced over his shoulder, his expression wild with desperation.

“Stop! Sheriff’s department!” I bellowed. My voice cut through the still air. Finch didn’t even hesitate.

He dove into a beat-up white Civic just as I closed the gap. Gravel sprayed from under his tires as he slammed the car into reverse. He narrowly missed me and a young couple walking toward the trailhead. They screamed and plunged to the ground.

The Civic peeled out of the lot in a cloud of dust.

Panting, I skidded to a stop, whipped out my phone, and dialed 9-1-1. My badge number rolled off my tongue as I issued a BOLO on Finch and his vehicle and requested immediate assistance from the local sheriff’s office.

As I ended the call, I turned to see Ethan kneeling next to the couple, his voice low and soothing. Even shaken, he had a kind, reassuring nature.

I approached, my footsteps crunching on the gravel. “Are you both okay?” I asked the couple, keeping my tone as calm as I could manage. They nodded, wide-eyed and trembling, but they agreed to file a report with a deputy when I asked.

Once they were settled, I pulled Ethan aside, my emotions teetering between relief and fury. “What the heck were you thinking?” I snapped, my voice sharp and tight. “You put yourself in danger. You could’ve been hurt—or worse.”

He ran a hand through his hair, the usually neat curls now wild and disheveled.

He’d lost his ball cap. “I know,” he said, his voice soft and filled with regret.

“I didn’t think—I just acted. Like you did on the beach.

” His gaze locked on mine, shame and a plea for understanding mixing in his expression.

“I want to stop looking over my shoulder, wondering when he’s going to show up again. ”

The fight drained out of me in an instant. My chest ached for him. But the thought of what could’ve happened—what Finch might’ve done—made my breath catch. Without a word, I grabbed him and pulled him into a fierce hug, my arms wrapping tightly around his shuddering frame.

He sagged against me, his chin lowering to my shoulder as his hands fisted in the back of my jacket. “I’m sorry,” he murmured.

“Just don’t do it again,” I said roughly. The deputy in me pushed through the raw emotions swirling inside.

I felt his lips curve into a faint smile against my neck. “Yes, sir,” he teased.

I held him a moment longer and silently vowed that no matter what it took, I would end this. For him.

So he could return to New York—leaving Noah heartbroken and confused—and taking a piece of me with him.