Cuffs - Cara Lockwood Page 0,55
quite believing this had happened, not quite believing that John—or whoever had done this—had such hate for her place that he’d want to do her so much damage. She couldn’t even begin to wrap her mind around it. She’d been at this location for years, had always been a good neighbor, had friends all over town, but right now she felt very, very alone.
In fact, she’d never felt so alone, so vulnerable before in her life. Except the day her mother died. She glanced at her watch and realized it was just past midnight. Well, this is just great, she thought. Another shitty thing to remember that happened on this day. She was really, really beginning to hate November. The flashing blue lights of the police SUV outside still bathed her floor. The officers had gone next door to get the surveillance tape, promising to return with a few more questions.
But now she surveyed the damage to the shop, wondering when she could get started cleaning up the mess.
“How can I help?” Gael stood behind her, phone in his hands, as if ready to call for backup if needed.
“I don’t know,” she admitted. The problem seemed too big for him. Too big for her. How was she even going to start with this mess? “I don’t even know what to do first. Clean? Call the insurance company? And then there’s the problem of this.” She spread out her arms across the big, broken window. “It’s like a big welcome sign to looters. And there’s probably still a few things here worth stealing.”
Like her tattoo needles. The ink. Even the cash register, which had been battered but not entirely broken.
“I know guys,” Gael said. “They can get over here and board this up. They can get the glass out.”
“I can do that myself.” Mags never asked for help. She wasn’t used to needing it. And part of her didn’t want it. When the world smacked her down, she was the one who got up herself. She never asked for a hand up.
“I know you can. But why? Let me help you.”
But that would mean letting him in, wouldn’t it? That would mean letting him have a piece of her. That would mean admitting to him and to herself that this wasn’t the casual take-it-or-leave-it relationship she’d planned. But then, she already knew that. Already knew what they had went far deeper. She already knew she needed him. And that scared the hell out of her.
“No. I can do it myself.” She was being stubborn. Stupid, even. She should just ask for the man’s help. Yet, on the anniversary of her mother’s death...it just felt like a betrayal. Of her mom. Of herself.
“You can’t do this yourself. You need help, and I want to give it to you.” Gael sounded frustrated, and why wouldn’t he be? He was just trying to do her a favor. And she wasn’t letting him. She knew he didn’t deserve this from her. He was just trying to help. She was the one with the problem. She was the one who wasn’t accepting the help. And that said more about her than it did about him. “Don’t be so damn proud. I can help. I want to help. All you have to do is let me.”
“No.” She sniffed, hard, hoping the growing anger in her stomach would burn out the tears threatening to spill. The tears just enraged her more. She wasn’t going to cry. She wasn’t going to let herself cry.
“What about the bills at the end of the month, or beginning of next? If your cash is gone, then you’ll need a bridge loan. You’ve got utilities, a lease, I assume, to pay?”
She knew this already, but hearing it out loud felt like a blow. She had no idea how she was going to do any of that. There were the utilities to pay, and then the rent would be due, and there was no insurance to take care that because she’d opted out of that kind of coverage. And she’d been the one not to trust banks, to have kept a stupid amount of money on hand. She’d thought she’d been clever, keeping it hidden, but the ease with which two guys had executed a quick smash and grab might easily put her out of business. But she didn’t want to face all that right now, and she sure as hell didn’t want to think that Gael was her only way out. She’d never