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“Can I see it tomorrow?”
Parked, I stared at him. “Why?”
“Well one, I want to know if I recognize the writing. Two, I want to know exactly what it says. Three, someone keeps coming after you, they’re going to find all of us in the way. I don’t like you being hurt.”
“Anonymous notes and vague threats aren’t hurting me.”
“What they did to your cardidhurt you.”
I couldn’t argue with that. “We don’t know it was the same person.” Or if there had been a note on my car that they’d taken. I could only hope Mr. Thorns was at least vaguely aware, because I did not want him getting caught in the blowback.
The reality of that thought settled in my bones. I didn’t know who he was, but I cared about Mr. Thorns because he’d been nothing but kind to me in those notes and even in not meeting on Saturday night. The evening had already been a shitshow, and in a way, I was kind of glad he kept his distance.
“Do you really think it matters if it was the same person or not?” Coop made no attempt to leave the car.
Covering his hand on my thigh with mine, I shook my head. “I just want it to go away.”
“Me, too,” he promised. “But I need you to tell us, to trust us to help and to protect you.”
“You make it sound like we’re in some grand drama. What do you think they’re going to do, Coop? Dump a bucket of blood on me at Homecoming?”
“God, I hope not,” he muttered.
“I was kidding.” And being dramatic.
“Well, I’m not, that’s the thing. What they did to your car is an escalation. What Sharon did on Instagram was an escalation. Those notes? Putting them on your work—did you even tell Ms. Fajardo?”
I hung my head. “You know I didn’t.”
“Will you tell her?”
“It’s not like she won’t see it.” She had the sheets, we had to turn them back in.
“Frankie.”
That was it. Just my name. Leaning my head back against the headrest, I said, “I’ll think about it, okay? I’m tired. I want to go inside and shower…”
A knock on my window had me jerk and spin. Jake stood just outside the car with a concerned look on his face.
I unlocked the car and opened the door, heart racing. The adrenaline dump was not fun.
“Didn’t mean to scare you,” he said, leaning down. The scent of barbecue wings flooded the car, and my stomach growled. “Everything all right?”
“Yeah,” Coop said. “We were talking about the note thing.”
“You told them?” I shifted my stare to him.
“Yes,” Jake answered instead of Coop. “He did. We needed to know, Frankie.”
Another groan slipped out of me. Once we were both out of the car, I locked it and faced the pair of them. “I told Coop I’d think about talking to Ms. Fajardo tomorrow. I don’t want to make a big deal out of any of this.” No doubt, my car had made its stunning and wretched debut on social media, and probably with lots of humorous comments to entertain the masses.
“Okay, but it is a big deal,” Jake said almost echoing Coop. “You’re important to us. Pretending it didn’t happen won’t make it go away. The stupid idea of ignoring a bully will just make him bored is so damn dumb, it makes me hurt to even say it.”
“Can we talk about anything else tonight? Please?”
His expression softened and so did Coop’s. “C’mere,” Coop said, and he wound his arms around me. I leaned into the hug, and he ran his hands up and down my back. “You matter, Frankie. Talk to us, and I’ll try not to be a pain in the ass about this.”
A little laugh escaped me.
