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What if whoever did this is still inside? Or outside? Shit. With the sense of someone watching me, I make my way to the salon as quickly as possible. Colt meets me right outside and gently places his hands on my shoulders.
“No Libs, you don’t need to go in there,” he says. If it’s that bad, then why is his voice so calm?
“I just need to see what kind of damage is done,” I say, still hyper-aware of a second set of eyes boring into me, causing my hands to tingle. Not now.
“The cops will be here in a few minutes. They’ll take care of everything,” he says as he runs a hand down my arm. Panic is settling in my chest. It won’t be long before I’m on the floor with my head between my knees.
“I need inside,” I plea. My words are quiet, but the desperation is loud. My knees start to shake and Colt instantly reacts.
Wrapping an arm around me, he pulls me inside, making sure the door shuts behind us. Before I can take in my surroundings, he moves directly in front of me, blocking my sight. Placing a hand on either side of my face, he dips his head closer to mine, bringing my focus to him.
“I need you to listen to me, Libs,” he eases. “I promise you are safe. Nobody is here, and I won't let anything happen to you.” The vibrato of his voice wraps me in a blanket. But the hard lines on his face tell me it’s not that simple. “There are things in here that you don’t need to see. But I understand that probably won't stop you. So if you decide to look around, I’m going to be right next to you the whole time. Just say the word and I will get you out of here.”
What’s so bad that he has to prepare me beforehand? I’m already here and can see that the damage has been done. Maybe he sees me as some weak girl that’s not able to handle herself. The prickles at the back of my neck remind me he’s probably right.
“Let me see.” It’s time to power through. To prove to myself that I’m more than my anxiety.
Colt’s jaw ticks, and he nods. This clearly isn’t easy for him. But this isn’t his problem to deal with. I’m not his to worry about. With a hand on the small of my back, he leads me through the salon and I take it all in. Mirrors are smashed, tools thrown from stations, and shelving torn down. But then we get to my area and my stomach lurches.
My mirror is the only one not broken. Instead, letters are scribbled across it in bright red paint.
WHORE.
No. No, no, no, no. The shock of it knocks the air out of my lungs. This is all aimed at me?
“Libs.” Colt’s voice is soft, but I’m still digesting everything. Who would ruin an entire place of business just to send me a message? Colt spins me around to face him. Grabbing my chin in his hand, he gives me another moment before speaking. “Talk to me. Please. I need to know where your head is.”
I shake my head, unable to find words.
“Focus on me, Libby.” He uses his thumb to stroke my face. “No filter. No holding it in. Let me help you carry it.”
Damn it, Colt Gibson. He’s so good at being good. “I don’t understand. Why me? What have I done?”
He pulls me into him, my head crashing into his firm chest. “You have done absolutely nothing wrong. Definitely nothing to deserve this.” My body relaxes into him as his words register in my mind. It’s a nice thought that I did nothing to cause this. But the simple fact is that if it weren’t for me, this wouldn’t have happened. Whoever did this wouldn’t have come here.
Police sirens sound in the distance and Colt brushes hair from my face. “Come on, I’ll stay with you, but you don’t need to be in here anymore.”
We go outside to meet the cops and Colt does exactly what he said, standing next to me the whole time. Which turns out is more needed than I expected. Being questioned takes me into my childhood. Every time someone called the cops on my dad and my mother completely lied about everything. Now that I’m standing in front of them, the memories of false security floods my body.
But Colt’s presence wraps me in the embrace I wish his arms would. When the cops ask questions I can’t seem to form an answer to, he chimes in so they can do their job.
“When’s the last time you were here?”
Silence.
“She worked yesterday from noon to seven.”
“When did you get here tonight?”
Silence.
“About ten minutes ago.”
“Did you see anyone else?”
That feeling of someone watching me comes back. Despite that, I remain silent.
“I checked everything out. There was nobody here.”
