Page 9 of Tides of Change (Seacliff Cove #2)

CHAPTER EIGHT

Garrett

When Noah and I reached the head of the path that wound its way from our neighborhood down to the beach, I toed off my tennis shoes.

The coarse sand sifted cool and gritty beneath my toes, a refreshing contrast to the unseasonably warm afternoon sun.

The ocean breeze carried the faint tang of salt and seaweed, ruffling Noah’s hair as he bounced on his feet beside me.

“Give me your shoes, buddy.” I held out my hand, and he shoved the sneakers into my grasp, his excitement barely contained. I hooked them with two fingers.

He hopped from foot to foot, and his energy vibrated like a live wire. “Can I run ahead? Huh? Huh?”

I nodded. “Not too far.”

Noah didn’t need to hear it twice. He was off like a rocket and his laughter spilled out behind him in high-pitched squeals. I followed at a moderate pace and savored the feel of the sand shifting under my weight and the rhythmic crash of waves in the distance.

It was peaceful—until it wasn’t.

Up ahead, Noah skidded to a halt. My gaze sharpened as he approached a man standing on the path. Without hesitation, my son reached up and slid his small hand into the man’s much larger one. The sight sent an icy bolt straight to my chest. My heart stuttered, then lurched into a gallop.

I broke into a dead run, adrenaline prickling at the base of my neck.

The man turned slightly, his head swiveling as if searching for someone.

The brim of his ball cap cast a shadow over his face, but the glint of auburn hair curling out from beneath it caught the sun.

Recognition washed over me, and I exhaled sharply, the tension in my shoulders easing as I slowed to a walk.

“Look, Dad!” Noah’s voice was pure joy as I closed the gap between us. He held up their joined hands. “I found Mr. Ethan!”

My relief melted into exasperation. “I see that. But remember the rules about stranger danger.”

Noah’s face scrunched in confusion. “But he’s not a stranger.”

Ethan’s brows knitted together above the dark frames of his sunglasses. “Did I just cause a problem again?”

“Hi, Ethan.” I gave him a quick chin lift, still catching my breath. “No problem on your end. This guy”—I shot Noah a pointed look—“nearly gave me a heart attack until I realized it was you.”

Noah’s smile fell. He slumped a little, dragging his toes through the sand. “Sorry, Daddy.”

I mussed his hair, the short, soft strands slipping through my fingers. “Next time, just run back and tell me first, okay?”

“O-kay.” He drew the word out. His eyes darted back up to Ethan, and lit up like someone had flipped a switch, his guilt short-lived. “We’re going for a walk! Wanna come with us?”

“What a coincidence.” Ethan’s lips quirked. “I’m going for a walk, too.”

Noah’s grin spread wide, his excitement a force of nature. “We can go together!” He cast a hopeful glance my way. “But can I run ahead?”

Ethan chuckled, his laugh low and warm, and crouched to Noah’s level. “Doesn’t that kind of defeat the purpose of walking together ?”

I snorted, unable to hold back my amusement. “Yes, you can run ahead. But ”—I leveled him with a stern look—“no talking to strangers. And stay out of the water until I get there.”

“O- kay , Daddy.” He dropped Ethan’s hand like it burned and took off again. “Race you!” floated back on the breeze.

I shook my head, half in exasperation, half in affection. Ethan straightened and fell into step beside me, his pace effortlessly matching mine. The ocean came into view, and the sun sparkled off the rushing waves.

I was keenly aware of the man at my side—the way his height just edged past my six feet, the breadth of his shoulders, the strength in his stride. The way his T-shirt clung to his chest and hinted at lean muscle that didn’t come from sitting at a desk all day.

Why was I noticing these things? Why now? Why Ethan?

My stomach gave an uncomfortable twist, and I glanced at his hand swinging at his side. A traitorous thought whispered through my mind. Would it feel strange to reach out and take his hand, the way Noah had done? How would his large, strong hand feel in mine?

Heat crawled up my neck, and I shoved my hand into my pocket, curling my fingers into a fist. Would Ethan welcome the gesture? Was he even gay? He’d said he’d like to see me again—just the two of us. Had he picked up on what I was really asking? That maybe I wasn’t just looking for friendship?

We hardly knew each other, despite our easy conversation the previous evening. But I liked what I knew, and he drew me to him unlike anyone—woman or man—had before.

We joined Noah at the edge of the wet sand, where the waves crept up, pulling the ocean’s chill onto the shore.

The rhythmic roar of the surf wrapped around us like a living heartbeat.

I took Noah’s hand in mine, the warmth of his fingers a stark contrast to the icy Northern California water we stepped into.

A jolt shot up my legs as the cold water washed over our feet, the grit of sand shifting with the tide’s pull.

Beside us, Ethan approached the water. The instant it touched his toes, he hissed and leaped back onto the dry sand. “That’s fu—friggin’ cold.” His shiver was almost theatrical, and his reaction wrung a laugh out of me.

“Come on, Noah.” I tugged his hand gently, and we stepped out of the surf. “Let’s go for a walk. This way.” I nodded toward the north, where a towering cliff, jutting into the water on a spit of rocky land, loomed in the distance. The promontory formed the northernmost curve of the cove.

“Yeah! I can show Mr. Ethan the sea cave!” Noah’s hand slipped from mine as he bolted ahead, his energy boundless as the waves themselves.

“It’s high tide, buddy,” I called after him and raised my voice to be heard over the crash of the surf. “The sea cave will be underwater. Don’t go anywhere near it.”

Ethan’s gaze followed Noah; his brow furrowed as if he was judging the danger.

“Sometimes I feel like I’m constantly telling him what not to do,” I admitted and exhaled a breath of exhaustion.

Ethan’s smile was small but sincere. “I assume that’s part of being a good parent. You care, so you guide him.” He shrugged, as though the answer were obvious. “You love him.”

His simple observation hit me like a wave, a swell of emotion rising in my chest. “I do.” Though the words didn’t convey the depth of it.

Noah sprinted ahead, pausing now and then to pluck a seashell from the sand or hurl a piece of driftwood into the surf. The ocean returned the sticks, each wave depositing them back onto the shore. He flung the wood again, like he was playing fetch with a dog.

Ethan snorted a laugh. “He sure has a lot of energy.”

“Tell me about it. That’s why we’re taking a walk—to burn some of it off.

This morning, we drove over the mountain to buy a Halloween costume, and he’s been bouncing off the walls in it ever since.

” My tone was wry, but the fond smile tugging at my lips probably gave me away.

“At this rate, he’ll tear a hole in it before Halloween even gets here. ”

“Is he going trick-or-treating?” Ethan glanced at me.

“Yeah, I’ll take him around the neighborhood.” Our steps fell in sync again as we moved closer to the cliff.

“Well, stop by my house. I want to see him.”

Warmth spread through my chest, not just at the invitation, but at the way Ethan had quickly woven himself into our lives. “Will do.” After a few moments of companionable silence, I asked, “What brings you out today? Enjoying the sun?”

He shrugged. “I walk when I’m working out a sticky plot point.” He chuckled, the sound light against the heavier crash of waves. “So, I walk a lot.”

“Can’t help you with sticky plot points.” I shot a quick look his way. “But I can walk with you if you ever want company.” My shoulders tensed, and I wanted to take the words back. I might have overstepped and assumed he wanted more time with me.

His head turned toward me, his gaze hidden and unreadable behind his sunglasses. “I’d like that.”

Relief loosened the tension I was holding.

We caught up to Noah, where he gestured toward the base of the rock face. “Look, Mr. Ethan. There’s the sea cave!”

I followed his pointed finger to where the waves ebbed and revealed the triangular top of the cave, only for the next swell to crash and swallow it again.

“It’s carved about one hundred feet deep into the cliff,” I explained, “narrowing, twisting, and branching off. It’s a labyrinth.

At low tide, people sometimes explore, but…

” I hesitated and lowered my voice. “Not all of them make it out.”

Ethan shuddered and rubbed his arms. “I’d never go in there, anyway. Claustrophobia.”

“Smart choice. Walking, enjoying the sun, playing volleyball—those are all much safer beach activities.”

Noah wandered nearby, his dark head bent as he searched the sand for treasure. He occasionally picked something up, only to discard it. The sight of him, his boundless curiosity now tempered by a growing tiredness, filled me with tenderness.

“Ready to go home, buddy?” I called.

He trudged to my side. “Yeah, Dad.” He lifted his hopeful gaze. “Can I watch Bluey ?”

“Sure thing.” The three of us began the trek back, and this time, Ethan and I had to slow our steps for Noah as he lagged.

Ethan and I fell into an effortless conversation about the town and its quirks—the hitchhiking ghost, the town’s renowned, reclusive artist Austin Beaumont, the summer’s town-wide scavenger hunt.

Occasionally, I exchanged greetings with someone I knew—the perks of being a local deputy—but Ethan remained reserved, his face shadowed by the low brim of his cap and sunglasses.

When we reached our house, I opened the door for Noah, who stumbled inside.

Ethan lingered on the path, his hands in his pockets. “Thanks for the walk.”

“Did you work out your sticky plot point?”

He smiled and his lips quirked to one side. “No. I got distracted. But I had a good time.”

He pivoted to go, and I knew I should let him, but the thought of not seeing him for days, maybe weeks, left a hole in my chest. Before I could stop myself, I blurted, “Noah’s staying at my parents’ next Saturday night. Want to visit that brewery I was telling you about?”

Ethan turned back around and cocked his head, his expression hidden behind his sunglasses.

Had I overreached?

“I’d like that,” he said warmly.

The thrill that coursed through me was as unexpected as it was intense. Friends could grab a beer. It was only a date if he wanted it to be. Otherwise, it would just be two people getting to know each other.

At least, that’s what I told myself.