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“Your ex-husband?” Not really a question.

“Yeah.” The word came out rough. “He sent the investigator. Flowers the other day. Now this.”

“You’re changing your locks tonight. I’ll do it now.”

“It’s midnight.”

“I know what time it is.”

He was already moving, disappearing into his house and returning with a toolbox and a set of new deadbolts still in packaging. Like he just had spare locks lying around. Like midnight lock changes were perfectly normal.

I followed him back to my house, watching him work with the same efficient movements he’d used on my kitchen. He didn’t ask questions. Didn’t push for explanations about why my ex was stalking me or what I’d done to send me running to Tennessee. He just changed my locks at midnight because I’d shown up shaking on his doorstep.

“Thank you,” I said when he finished. “I don’t - I should have done this earlier.”

“You came to me.” He tested the new locks, satisfying himself they were secure. “That was the right call.”

We stood there in my doorway, him holding his toolbox, me holding my sanity together with both hands. I should have been thinking about Garrett. About protection orders and security cameras and what Rachel would say about this escalation.

Instead, I was thinking about how Tyson had dropped everything the second he saw I was scared. How he’d shown up with groceries because Noa was worried. How he’d changed my locks without questions because I’d asked.

“Will you…” I swallowed, hating how vulnerable I sounded. “Can you just check if you see unfamiliar cars? I know it’s not your problem, but…”

“It is my problem.” His voice was firm. “I’m here for you, Sam.”

I could see in his face that he meant it.

“Okay,” I whispered past the lump in my throat.

“Lock up behind me. Use the deadbolt.”

I nodded. He started to leave, then turned back.

“Sam? Next time something happens, anything, you come get me. Day or night. You come get me. Call me. Yell for me. Anything.”

“Okay.”

He waited until he heard the locks engage before heading home. I watched through the window as he did a full circuit of his property before going inside, checking shadows I hadn’t even noticed.

I changed into pajamas and tried to sleep, but my brain wouldn’t stop spinning. Garrett knew where I lived.

The safety I’d driven seven hours to find had evaporated with one handwritten note.

11

— • —

Sam

Six in the morning should be illegal. Especially when it arrived with power tools and what sounded like an entire construction crew setting up camp in my front yard.

I dragged myself out of bed, threw on yesterday’s clothes because everything else was still in boxes, and yanked open the front door ready to commit murder.

“Morning,” Tyson said cheerfully, holding a drill and looking unfairly good for someone who’d been up since probably dawn. “Ready to get started?”

“It’s six. In the morning.”

“Best time to work. Cooler temperatures, less traffic noise.”