Cuffs - Cara Lockwood Page 0,57
the chair was now broken. The thieves had to have stomped it on purpose to cause that kind of damage.
She thought about the security footage from Mr. Ling’s store. The police had let her watch it, but the cameras hadn’t caught much: two guys in black hoodies. One definitely tall, skinny and white, which might have been John, or it might have been someone else. The officers were going to try to see if they could enhance the video, and they had plans to interrogate John as well. They’d told her before they left around one in the morning that they’d be in touch.
Officer Lopez had clapped a hand on her elbow. “We’ve got a lot of evidence and good leads, like a partial tattoo on one of the perps. Better than most smash and grabs. We’ll do our best to find who did this.”
The kindness from the officer made Mags even more emotional, and she felt like she didn’t deserve that kindness. She’d lashed out so much at Gael, which he hadn’t deserved. It wasn’t the first time, either, that she’d pushed away someone trying to get close to her. She pushed people away and then mourned their loss. Hell, if she were honest with herself, she spent her time assuming people would abandon her, and she’d push them hard enough until they did, proving her right. She realized she’d relished that feeling, of feeling superior, of being right, except that in the end, what satisfaction did it really give her? She was alone.
And now she was standing by herself in her shop, the weak sunlight of the morning beginning to stream in. She felt hollow. She felt exhausted, too. Her muscles burned with the hours of cleanup. Her back ached. This would’ve been easier if she’d let Gael help. But that felt like defeat. It was stupid, defied reason, but she’d learned a long time ago that leaning on people just led to disappointment.
She glanced at the gaping hole where her window used to be, the cold November morning air whisking in, chilling her, despite the fact she had on her leather jacket, gloves, hat and a chunky scarf she’d found tucked in her desk drawer in the back. The thieves hadn’t bothered to take the knitted wool, and she’d put it to use. A few brown leaves were already swirling into her shop. She almost wanted to cry. Why did picking up all the glass matter? Mags’s place was wide-open, a sitting duck for anybody else who wanted to come by and help themselves to her things.
The unfairness of it all struck her then. Her mother’s death, her father’s abandonment, the universe helping itself to her feelings, taking what it wanted. She’d spent her life fighting against anyone who’d take anything from her again, and in one night, two men had changed that. Bashing through the glass, taking her cash, her dignity. Maybe walls and barriers were just illusions, after all. Maybe walling herself off didn’t actually protect her from anything. Maybe she should just sit on the floor, lie down and give up. She felt tempted. Everything felt so futile. She’d pushed away the only man who had ever really seemed to care for her, and why? To keep the illusion of her walls intact? To pretend she didn’t need anyone, when she damn well knew she did.
She’d needed her mother. She’d needed her mother, and her mother had died. She’d needed her father, but he’d left her. She needed Gael. But she’d pushed him away. That was on her.
Then she saw a white, unmarked delivery truck pull up out front of her shop. Curious, she watched a man bundled in a jumper, wool beanie and work gloves jump out, clipboard in hand. Delivery for Mr. Ling, she wondered? But then she saw two other men get out of the truck, roll up the back and begin lugging out large pieces of plywood. The man in the beanie came to her door and waved to her. She opened it, curious.
“You Ms. McHenry?” one of them asked.
Mags nodded. “Who’s asking?”
“Gael Quinn sent us. Said we should board up the window?”
Mags felt her chest swell with all kinds of emotion: gratitude, shock, relief. She was so tired, so damn bone tired, and the help had come at just the right time. Even after she had pushed him away, he was still taking care of her. Still looking after her.
Right then, she didn’t care if she’d be in Gael’s