“By what?”
“You. Always you.” I step closer to her. Close enough to see the blue streaks in her eyes. “And it’s always welcome.”
She opens her mouth to say something when the crunch of tires on gravel makes us both look toward the open door. A car pulls up outside the workshop. A car I recognize.
“What the hell is he doing here?” Sadie’s voice is tight.
“Stay here.” I’m already moving toward the door, putting myself between her and whatever bullshit Owen’s about to pull.
I step outside into the afternoon sun. Owen is standing by his car, arms crossed over his chest, wearing that same smug expression he always wears, like he owns the world and everyone in it.
“Mateo.” He nods like we’re still friends, like he didn’t force his way into Sadie’s apartment and grab her. “Is Sadie here?”
“No.” The lie comes easily.
“Really?” His eyes flick past me to the open workshop door. I shift to block his view. “Because her car’s parked at your house. And I heard she’s been staying with you.”
Of course he did. Small-town gossip travels fast.
“She doesn’t want to see you,” I say flatly. “Leave.”
“I just want to talk to her.” His voice is so reasonable. So calm. The same tone he probably used for years to make Sadie feel like she was crazy for having feelings. “Five minutes. That’s all.”
“No.”
“Come on, man. You know how women are.”
“Vete a la chingada.“ Go to hell. “She said no. I’m saying no. Get in your car and get the fuck off my property.”
Owen’s jaw tightens. “This isn’t your decision to make.”
“Actually, it is.” Sadie’s voice comes from behind me. “It’s his property. And he’s right. I don’t want to see you. Leave, Owen.”
She’s standing right behind me in the doorway now, arms crossed, chin up. Defiant, even though I can see the tension in her shoulders. Owen’s expression shifts when he sees her. Something almost like concern crosses his face, but I know better. I’ve seen him use that look before.
“Sadie. Finally.” He takes a step forward. I move to block him. “I’ve been trying to reach you. I’m worried about you.”
“I’m fine.”
“Are you?” His eyes sweep over her, and I want to punch him for the way he looks at her like he’s cataloging flaws. “Because from what I hear, your shop was destroyed. Your apartment was vandalized. You’re hiding out at Mateo’s place like some kind of fugitive.”
“I’m not hiding.”
“Aren’t you?” Another step forward. I shift to stay between them. “You’re letting this town tear you apart, Sadie. They destroyed your business. Invaded your home.”
We never told anyone publicly about the apartment. The shop was visible — everyone saw the boarded windows. But the apartment break-in was in the police report and nowhere else.
“And you’re still planning to stand up at that town hall meeting and defend yourself?” Owen continues. “For what?”
“Because I’m not running,” she says.
“Maybe you should.” His voice drops, taking on that manipulative edge I’ve heard him use before. “This isn’t worth it. The shop, the book, this town—none of it is worth what they’re putting you through.”
“That’s not your call to make,” Sadie says.
“Someone needs to make it for you, because you’re not thinking clearly.” He shifts, trying to get a better view of her around me. “You never do when you’re emotional. That’s always been your problem, Sadie. You let your feelings cloud your judgment.”
“Owen—“
