Page 74 of Sugar Coated Secrets

“You could have been hurt or lost.”

“But I wasn’t. You haven’t answered my question. Was Mr. Moody questioned?”

A ball is in my throat. I can feel the quickening of my pulse on my neck as I wait for answer.

He shakes his head, but he doesn’t meet my eyes like he is lying and can’t look me in the eye. “Not that I know of,” he says evasively. “It was four years ago, Dulce.”

Confusion clouds my vision. “Yes," I reply. Confusion turns into anger, and I clench my teeth at his response. It’s infuriating how he’s scolding me like I’m a child. “It was four years ago, and maybe you don’t remember, but to me, it feels like yesterday, Officer Mays.”

The truth smacks me hard in the stomach. He isn’t going to help me. His reaction to Moody doesn’t make sense. Something isn’t right, and for the first time, I don’t trust him.

“Dulce?” His eyes grow soft, but it doesn’t stop me from walking away.

“Dulce, wait,” he calls out.

Before I open the driver's side door, a loud rumble of an engine comes from down the street. I look behind my van when the front of Ford’s Porsche pulls up, rolling down the window and glaring at Danny. “Are you good, Dulce?” Ford asks, still staring at Danny.

“Are you lost?” Danny says. “Don’t you have a mansion somewhere and a blonde to screw?”

Ford grins. “I came to check onmygirl and take her to dinner.”

“What do you want, Ford?” Danny sneers.

Ford glances at me and then turns his gaze toward Danny, emphasizing his point. “Well, like I said, I’m not here for you.” Ford glances at me. “I’ll follow you home.”

“That’s not necessary,” Danny says.

“It’s alright,” I tell Danny. “He can follow me home. He hasn’t broken any laws. It’s not like you give a shit about the law.”

“That’s not fair, Dulce. I’ve been there for you,” Danny says, pleading with his eyes.

I don’t believe him.

“I thanked you every day since that night for doing your job.” I open the door. “But now it seems like you’re not interested in doing your job anymore.”

After getting my grandmother to bed and Mary leaves for the night, I couldn’t convince Ford to leave. Not after he ordered dinner, and not after he brought a smile to my grandmother’s face.

I sit on the couch after a quick shower, not caring if it’s from the seventies with tomato-pinned cushions. The TV sits on an old dresser. It’s the box kind with a built-in DVD player.

“Did that Dickhead cop say anything to upset you?” Ford asks.

I could tell he had wanted to broach the subject since he followed me home, but probably didn’t want to do it in front of Mary or my grandmother, which I'm grateful for.

I slide my damp hair to the side, trying not to sound nervous about the fact that he is sitting right next to me and smells amazing. I want nothing more than to feel his arms around me or for him to kiss me. “No.”

“It didn’t look or sound like that to me,” he says, sliding a piece of hair away from my mouth.

“It’s nothing.”

“You called him about Moody.”

I look away, not wanting to meet his gaze. Afraid that he will think I want Danny. I don’t want to lie, so I reply, “Yeah.”

“It was the smart thing to do.”

I swing my head and look at him in surprise.

“He didn’t sound thrilled about it, I guess.”

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