I turn toward Macy, who has her phone to her ear.
“Thank you,” Macy says before hanging up and pocketing it. “An officer is on their way.”
I nod, unable to form words. We stare at the storefront, those words.SLUT. WHORE. WE DON’T WANT YOU HERE, PERVERT.
“Someone hates me this much?” I ask. “They hate me enough to do this?”
“I don’t think that’s it, Sadie,” Macy says, turning me away from the hatred and wrapping her arms around me. “And even if there was someone like that, there are hundreds of people in this town who love you.”
She turns to face the square with me. The minutes crawl by. Each second feels like an hour. I hold my phone like it’s a lifeline, paint-sticky fingers leaving a smudged red handprint on the case.
Where is he?
It’s been forever. It’s been—
I check the time. Three minutes.
How is it only three minutes?
Macy looks at my hand. “Do you want me to get you something to wipe that off?”
I shake my head.
A truck engine rumbles nearby.
Mateo pulls up to the curb. He’s out in seconds.
He takes in the storefront first. I watch his face harden, his whole body going rigid as his eyes scan across the words. Then his gaze shifts to me—my paint-covered hands, my face—and the rage gives way to something else. Not soft exactly. Furious and tender at the same time.
“Who did this?” His voice is low, threatening.
“I don’t know.” My voice cracks.
His jaw is clenched so tight I can see the muscle jumping.
“When I find out who—“ He stops himself, turning back to me. Really looking at me for the first time.
And that’s when I break.
The tears I’ve been holding back since I saw the paint, since I read those words and realized someone hates me so incredibly much, come all at once. I can’t stop them.
Mateo’s to me in two strides, pulling me against his chest. His arms wrap around me, solid and warm and safe.
“I’ve got you,tesoro,“ he murmurs into my hair. “I’ve got you.”
I’m sobbing into his shirt, getting tears and probably paint all over him, but he doesn’t let go. He just holds me tighter, one hand cradling the back of my head, the other firm against my back.
“I decided to stay,” I choke out between sobs. “I unpacked everything, and I decided to stay and then—“
“It will be okay.” His voice is rough. “You’re not in this alone.”
A police cruiser pulls up. Officers O’Brien and Vasquez step out. Mateo doesn’t let me go until I pull back on my own. Even then, his hand stays on my lower back. Grounding. Present.
The officers approach, and Macy steps forward immediately.
“I’m the one who called,” she says. “I got here maybe ten minutes ago and found Sadie standing in front of—“ She gestures at the door. “This.”
The younger officer, Officer Vasquez, takes photos while Officer O’Brien pulls out a notebook.
