Page 71 of Sugar Coated Secrets

“Are you both crazy?”

“It was my fault. I told her to stop.”

“Why?”

I lick my lips, and his gaze darkens confusing me. Every time he takes a breath, my lips tingle when they shouldn’t. I should hate this man.

“What?” he says. “What do you need, Dulce?”

Nothing. Telling him what I need is pointless. He would never understand because I would have to tell him everything, and it’s something I can’t do. Not him. Not anyone.

“So he exposed himself?”

“Yes.”

His jaw hardens. “Did you call the police?”

“No. We didn’t,” I say truthfully.

“He did it while he was still inside his house?” he asks, trying to piece together what happened.

“Yes.” I look directly at the tattoo on his throat, trying not to remember what Moody did. “There is no point in calling the cops. We weren’t supposed to be there. He could say we were trespassing.”

He bends so his eyes meet mine. “He’s a crazy, sick old man, and I won’t let him or anyone hurt you, Dulce. I know it’s hard, but I need you to trust me.”

“Why did you hurt Trent?”

“You know why,” he says softly, playing with a piece of hair between his fingers.

“Is that what you’re going to do—beat people up?”

“I’ll do whatever it takes,” he whispers like it’s a secret. A secret between us.

The tiny hairs on my arms stand up. The strand of my hair is between his fingers like he’s memorizing the feel and texture. “Before you leave here, I want to tell you a story,” he says.

“What about?” I ask curiously, watching as he struggles with what he is about to tell me.

“My last day of high school, I was supposed to race one last time before I left. I decided to leave at the last minute despite my parents being upset, but I wanted to do things on my own. My way. However, on that particular day, the sky broke apart and began to rain. There was one thing I hadn’t done the whole time I was in high school. One thing always lingered in my mind as unfulfilled because I planned to leave. Fate had other plans for me that day, and it wasn’t a race. Call it luck. Call it whatever you want. A girl was walking in the rain, and I knew who she was. How could I not? She was always on my mind. I begged her to let me give her a ride home. See, this girl wasn’t like the others. She was different. She was the kind of person you could never forget once you saw her. At least I couldn’t. It didn’t matter how hard I tried. My thoughts would always go back to her. Anyway, it was like God answered my prayers that day. She allowed me to bring her home. I was nervous for the first time in my life around a girl. I didn't know what to say or if she liked me at all. My choices with friends made me a less-than-ideal person. My family. And I didn’t do anything to make her think differently. I knew it wasmy only chance, but I was scared to tell her how I felt.” Tingles coat my skin as I watch his thumb and forefinger play with my hair.

“How did you feel?” I ask, my voice betraying the wetness between my thighs.

"I like her," he admits, his thumb and forefinger still playing with the ends of my hair like flint from a lighter. "I thought she was beautiful despite what other people said about her when I first noticed her," he continues, knowing his next words were the spark that would catch the flame. “If I wasn’t leaving, I would have asked her to prom.”

I’m on fire listening to him. Watching his throat move when he swallows and telling me his story. His thoughts.

“I regret leaving that day, and I think I will for the rest of my life. I know I can’t do anything to take it back. To change it. If you ever wondered if I would have asked, the answer would always be yes, Dulce.”

If I would wish for one thing, aside from saving the ones I love from death, it was this. His words when there was nothing else worth wanting for myself.

But the truth was, I couldn’t cheat death. I couldn’t bring my parents back, and I couldn’t save my grandmother from dying. None of those things were possible. There was no such thing as a miracle because, let’s face it, those things didn’t happen and weren’t possible. Four years ago, he was the closest thing to a miracle.

“Why are you telling me this now?”

“Because you need to hear it. You need to know. The same way you need to know who attacked you. The same way I need to know, and I’m the one that is going to find out.” He lets go of my hair and rubs his thumb over my bottom lip. “Whatever it takes.”

“You can’t save me.”

He thinks that will fix it—for me. I won’t lie and say it wouldn’t help because it would. It would give me the closure I need, but it wouldn’t change what that person did. The deep scar that changed me forever is visible once you peel away the layers and see the rotten truth underneath.

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