Page 56 of Sugar Coated Secrets

“Um, to be honest,” he says gently, licking his bottom lip, “it’s best if you get a new one.”

I laugh sarcastically. “Yeah, no. How much is it to get it to run and not leave me on the side of the road?”

“More than it’s worth,” he says convincingly.

“I can’t…”

“I know,” he says. “But I can fix that.”

Katie looks back and forth between us with a grin on her face.

“I don’t want you to fix anything.”

“Fix what?” Danny says, walking from the back and standing behind Ford.

“We’re talking about my van,” I tell him.

Danny looks at Ford as if he wants to bag him along with the rat. “What about it, Ford?”

“I think Ford wants to buy Dulce a new van,” Katie chimes in.

“She can use my truck,” Danny offers like I’m not standing right here. Maybe he realizes he sounded rude because he gives me a quick, apologetic look. “You could use my truck, Dulce. It’s no trouble. As long as you need it.”

“I…”

“That’s not going to work,” Ford says.

“Why not?” Danny challenges.

“For how long?” Ford says. “In the end, she will still need a new van. Fixing the one she has isn't worth the trouble. It’s not reliable anymore.” He turns to me. “I can buy you a new one.”

“I don’t want to owe you money,” I tell him firmly.

Ford shakes his head. "You won't owe me anything because it was a gift.” I open my mouth to protest, and he cuts me off. “I can afford it, Dulce. Easily.”

Danny scoffs. “You have balls, man. You think you can throw your money around, and that solves everything.”

Katie ignores Danny and stands in front of me with raised brows and wide eyes. “We accept,” she says. I turn to her and say, “Excuse me.”

I shake my head, telling her she is out of her mind.

She nods slowly as if I’m stupid for not accepting his help, but Katie doesn’t understand.

“Good,” Ford says, satisfied. “The last thing she needs is to find herself stranded again. She has a business to run.”

“What a hero,” Danny says sarcastically.

“Can you two stop?” I interrupt, and Katie and Danny look at me like toddlers caught in a fight. With a sigh, I ask, “Why can’t you get along?”

While I'm listening to them, anxiety causes my pulse to race. I hate to say it, but Ford is right. If I spend money to fix the stupid piece of shit van, there is a high probability of it leaving me stranded again. I shudder at the thought of finding myself on the side of the road.

“We can’t get along,” Danny says.

“Why not?” I ask.

“Because I’m trying to protect you. I’m…”

“He’s trying to fuck you,” Ford interjects. “Literally.”

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