CHAPTER 11
Hijo de puta.
The phrase barely covers the fury roiling through me.
I’m out of the truck before I can think, boots hitting pavement as I take in the destruction. Both front windows of Wildflower Books are gone, save for some sharp, jagged shards along the edges.
The wildflower bookend display is tossed on the sidewalk, scratched but intact. Wrought iron doesn’t break that easily.The brackets I made for the window shelving are ripped from the wall, screws and chunks of adobe scattered on the ground. Something I built for her, destroyed by someone who doesn’t deserve to breathe the same air she does. Glass glitters on the sidewalk like stars that fell from the night sky and shattered on the ground.
Red paint covers the adobe wall and the door, dripping in streaks that look like blood in the streetlight.
And across the door in larger letters:
Directly beneath it, like an afterthought:
Behind me, car doors slam. Footsteps. Then Jess’s voice, tight with fury: “Oh, fuck no.”
I can’t look away from the damage, the hatred.
Someone did this. Someone in this town that Sadie loves, that she wrote a book honoring, came here and did this.
Chingada madre.
I turn back to my truck. Sadie’s still in the passenger seat. Frozen. Staring through the windshield at her shop with an expression that makes my chest go tight and furious.
I go to the door and pull it open. “Sadie.”
She doesn’t move.
“Tesoro.“ I gently touch her face. “Look at me.”
Her eyes shift to mine. Empty. Hollow.
“They didn’t do enough the first time? They had to come back and make it worse?” Her voice breaks. “How can a book make someone hate me that much?” She shakes her head. “I don’t know how I’ll get through this. Maybe Owen’s right. Maybe I am making a fool of myself.”
“Don’t.” The word comes out sharper than I mean it to. “Don’t let him in your head. Don’t let whoever did this win.”
A tear slides down her cheek as her hand shoots out toward the building. “Look at it, Mateo. They destroyed it. They destroyed my shop.”
“They destroyed glass and paint. Not you. Not what you built.”
“It’s the same thing.”
“It’s not.” I take her hands. They’re ice cold. I can feel the tension running through her like a current. “Sadie, listen to me. This—“ I point to the shop. ”—is fixable. Windows can be replaced. Paint can be covered. But if you leave, if you let them drive you out, that’s it. You don’t get this back.”
More tears now. Silent, devastating.
Isabel appears at my shoulder. “Police are on their way. I called them.”
“Good.” I don’t look away from Sadie. “You’re staying with me tonight.”
“Mateo, I can’t—“
“Non-negotiable.” I stand, offering her my hand. “Come on.”
She takes it, letting me pull her from the truck.
The others are gathered on the sidewalk. Dean’s already taking photos with his phone for evidence. Macy’s on the phone with someone, her voice low and angry. Jess stands with her arms crossed, staring at the vandalism like she’s burning every word into her soul so she can hunt down whoever did it.
