Page 59 of Sugar Coated Secrets

“You’re right. I didn’t. I feel?—”

“Guilty.” I interrupt. "Is that why I'm here in your fancy car? Is it so you can throw money at my problems and feel vindicated? Free from guilt? Kiss the victimized high school girl to provide her with a sense of comfort and security.”

A look of horror crosses his face. “No…”

“Then why am I here, Ford?”

He stops behind a parked car near a row of shops. He opens and closes his mouth, clearly not knowing what to say. I’m sure he never thought I would bring any of this up or call him out on his bullshit. But I’m not the shy, weak-bullied girl in high school anymore.

“I want to help you.”

I open the door. “You want to help yourself,” I shoot back, stepping out of the car.

“Dulce…”

I slam the door, not wanting to do this right now.

I spot a café next to a commercial kitchen store with small tables outside and a neon sign that says fresh coffee. When I walk inside, I stand in line, looking at the menu. It’s already two in the afternoon, and I haven’t eaten anything since the rat incident. When it’s my turn, I order a simple coffee and bagel.

Ignoring the curious looks people give Ford, he walks in and scans the tables until he finds me taking a seat in the booth by the window.

I look at my phone, opening the last text Katie sent me so I can tell her to pick me up. I’ll have her take me to Trent’s garage and ask him how much it is to fix the van until I figure out what to do next.

The chair makes a rough sound when Ford pulls it out to sit across from me. “Why did you leave like that?”

“We have nothing to talk about. At least I don’t.”

“Why…” He stops mid-sentence. My eyes snap up. He can probably tell by the look on my face that it's a stupid thing to ask. “I don’t feel guilty,” he rushes out. “If you haven’t noticed, I like you, Dulce.”

One of the employees places my order on the table.

When they leave, and he glances at me, waiting for me to speak, I burst out laughing, almost spilling my coffee. He looks around, trying to find out what is so amusing, but I can’t stop. Maybe it's because I've liked him since I was fifteen and saw him for the first time, and not once did he notice me in a room unless someone was poking fun at me.

When I manage to stop and catch my breath, I tell him, “I’m sorry, but I can’t possibly believe anything you have to say.”

“I know.”

“Then why bother?”

He gives me a determined look. “Because I’m not going to stop until you believe me.”

I lean forward. “Is that why you came back? Because you heard what your stupid friends did.”

Something I can’t define passes in his eyes when he says, “I didn’t know what they did, I swear.”

I know he didn’t. His image is too important, but maybe that keeps him at Airy. People discovering that he isn't the decent guy everyone believes he is. I mean, you have to be some type of selfish asshole to be friends with people like Chris and Trent. I’m not sure if the rumors of him getting Summer knocked up are true, but I’m surprised none of those little details have popped out in the tabloids. Usually, the dirt from celebrity’s pasts is aired at some point.

“You didn’t answer my question,” I press.

“I don’t know why I came back.” He looks at his phone when it rings. He stares at the screen, which keeps ringing with the name Derek flashing on the screen. It stops and then starts again.

I raise a brow. “Are you going to get that?”

He sighs and answers, putting the phone up to his ear. “What? I don’t know.” He pauses. “I know, but I’m not done here. Well, they can wait. I know I have to race, Derek. I told you I had to come back and figure things out…No…” He glances up at me and continues, "I haven't yet, but I will soon. No, I changed my mind. No racing shop.”

So it’s true. He had plans to open a race shop in Airy. I wonder what changed his mind. It means he didn't know what happened if he was considering it.

He hangs up, and I stare at him, trying to focus on my anger but come up empty. “Problems?”

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