Page 67 of Sugar Coated Secrets

“I understand.”

“No, I mean, I’m sorry about what happened. I’m not going to quit on you unless you want to fire me.”

“I could never fire you, Katie. You’ve been the nicest person to me besides my grandmother and Mary. I know I put you in danger, and for that, I’m sorry. That man…”

“Had a small, wrinkly dick.”

I burst out laughing, causing snot to come out of my nose. “Oh God. I grab a napkin and wipe my face. “He did, didn’t he?”

“Disgusting,” she says with a laugh. “It looked like it was rotting with the rest of him.”

I visibly shudder. “He didn’t have teeth.”

“I know, but he did know who you were. He knew you worked at the bakery. Have you ever seen him before?”

"Never. But in this town, nothing escapes people unless they want it to."

“I believe that. There's something off about the people here. It reminds me of those towns that look normal but have something evil hidden underneath.”

“You should move while you can. This place isn’t safe.”

“How about I make a deal? I’ll leave when you leave.”

I smile. I’ve never had a friend before. One that would have my back like she did back there.

“Katie?”

She stops at a stop sign. “Yeah,” she says, looking both ways.

Her face blurs. “Thank you.”

She gives me a hug. One that I desperately need. “We all have dark and messy closets, Dulce. I know I have mine. I’ll tell you sometime.”

I nod, knowing that telling people about the past you’re trying to run away from is hard. On the way to Trent’s garage, all I could think about was how I’d had mine bottled up for four years, eating me from the inside like a disease. I just wish it would stop.

21

DULCE

“Is this it?” Katie asks, looking at the modern garage in awe when she pulls up to Trent’s garage.

“Yeah.”

“This is the douchebag who broke your phone that night.”

“Yep, the one and only.” I get out and squint, dreading having to talk to Trent. "I have to warn you," I say, closing the door. "He's a dick."

She remarks, "I'm accustomed to guys who are dicks. You should meet my ex-boyfriend. He’s a real piece of work.”

“Is he the reason you’re running?”

I don’t want to pry, but I’m taking a wild guess.

“Why lie?” she says, walking in front of me.

When we walk inside, it’s surprisingly cool, even with the overhead door open.

A man wearing a mechanic's shirt glances upward. I didn’t see him the last time I was here. He was working on a car that resembled a supercar Ford would drive. A supercar that you find on the track. He drops a tool, wipes his hand on a towel, and walks up. “Can I help you?”

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