“That’s not the point.” I press my palms against my eyes. “Those were my books. It was my shop. I built that.”
Mateo hesitates, then continues. “And they got into your apartment.”
My heart stops. “What?”
“The door was kicked in.” His jaw clenches. “Spray paint on the walls. Your couch is slashed. And your bed. They went through your things.”
I can’t breathe. The room funnels in. Only the table in front of me exists.
My apartment. My home. They were in my home.
“I’m so sorry,” Mateo says.
“I can’t go back there.” The words come out flat. Final. “I can’t sleep there knowing someone broke in. Touched my things. Went through—“ My voice breaks.
Mateo’s hand finds mine. “You don’t have to. You’re staying with me as long as you need.”
“And you’ll build the shop again,” Jess says firmly.
Even if I can afford to fix this now, should I? If the town turns against me and if Judith convinces everyone I’m too vile to be around, or that my writing makes me unfit to run a business here, I would have zero customers and zero support. It’s a bookshop in a small town in a world where you can click on a computer and have a book at your door the next day. I need community support to survive. Without it, Wildflower Books is just an empty building with my name on it.
Owen’s voice echoes through my head. Every insult and backhanded comment. The doubt creeps in. What if the damageisn’t just physical? What if the people who supported me before see the destruction and decide I’m not worth the trouble?
“Will I?” I look at Mateo. “I built my shop from nothing. I curated the romance section book by book. Five years of making this place mine, and someone tore through it in one night like none of it mattered. What if I open back up and no one buys from me? What if whoever destroyed it just destroys it again? What if this never stops?”
“It will stop,” Mateo says.
“You don’t know that.”
“No. But I know you.” His arm tightens around me. “And I know you’re not going to let them win.”
I want to believe him.
God, I want to believe him.
“How long will it take to fix everything?” I ask.
Dean and Mateo exchange another look.
“No. No more knowing looks between anyone here.” I point around the table. “For the next twenty-four hours, everyone just has to say what they know and not give each other looks.”
“At least two weeks,” Dean says. “Maybe three. Possibly a month. Between ordering materials, scheduling contractors, replacing inventory…”
“So the shop stays closed,” I say quietly.
“You don’t have to decide right now,” Mateo offers.
“No. It’s the right call.” I lean further into him, needing the solid warmth of him. “I can’t open the store when it has boarded windows and destroyed shelves. It’s not safe. And honestly...” I take a breath. “It gives me time to prepare.”
“Prepare for what?” Macy asks.
“This month’s town hall meeting in a week and a half, and whatever aftermath comes from it. If they want to debate whether I belong here, fine. Let’s debate.”
Jess glances at her phone, and her eyes go wide. “Holy shit.”
“What?” I ask. She doesn’t answer. Just stares at her screen. “Jess. What?”
She looks up at me. “You’re number one.”
