Page 47 of Sugar Coated Secrets

“Here you go, Missy. That will be three fifty,” Dean says with a clipboard in his hand. “I need you to sign here. After you pay, I can hand you the keys.”

“Let me get my cooler and bag out of your truck.”

I turn around and run into a hard chest. I look up, and eyes the color of blue flames hold me. “Good morning, Dulce,” Ford says softly.

“Good morning,” I murmur, hating that he’s here with Trent and hating Trent more. “I brought your order.”

I walk around him, but he holds me gently by the arm. He leans close and kisses my cheek softly, washing away the hate and replacing it with a fire. “Are you okay?” he whispers and looks warily at Dean and Trent. “Did Dean do anything, say anything?”

I shake my head.

“Good. Let me help you.”

He follows me to the tow truck, helps me with the cooler, and then carries it inside the garage.

I open my pocketbook and grab the money. “You have a great day, Dulce,” Dean says, passing me and getting inside his truck. I frown, watching him back out after he blasts his horn. He didn’t take my money. I glance at Ford, and he gives me a wink before glancing behind me, narrowing his eyes.

I turn around, and Trent remains standing in the same spot, watching me with a worried look. What is he afraid of? Or who? Is it me? Why would he, of all people?—

Then it hits me. Ford is back in town. And Ford doesn’t know what Trent and Chris did to me. Maybe he doesn’t know they ruined my life.

Four Years Ago

DULCE

After feigning a headache from a long night, Mary was sick with worry when she found out what happened but promised meshe would not tell my grandmother. She would be devastated. She told Grandma this morning that I was tired from prom.

There’s a knock on the front door. I squeeze my eyes shut, hoping whoever it is will go away, but then another knock is followed by the doorbell. I drag myself out of bed before my grandmother wakes up. I look at myself in the hallway mirror and cover the gash near my hairline. There are dark circles under my red eyes from crying. Red splotches on my cheeks. My lips look like I had lip fillers. I look horrible. I look hung over, and I’m too young to drink.

I look through the peephole. A man in a black suit holds a briefcase. The top of his head is bald, and the gray hair is short on the sides.

Maybe it’s a different detective.

The man smiles. “Good morning.”

“Can I help you?” I ask cautiously.

“I’m Attorney Richards, and I’m representing Chris Ellis. Can I have a few minutes of your time?”

“I don’t think?—”

“Just a few minutes. Chris and his family want to ensure you’re okay. It’s unfortunate what happened. I assure you my visit is in your best interest.” His eyes are cold like a shark.

“Miss Webster?” His voice is low and commanding.

I nod. I don’t want to, but I feel like I need to know why he’s really here. I step forward and shut the door behind me.

“What is this about?” I ask in a hard tone, crossing my arms to keep my hands from shaking. From the look in his gaze, I can tell this isn’t a friendly visit.

“Look, I know high school can be tough, and it sounds like you’ve been through a lot. My client said you were the target of a harmless prank gone wrong.”

I scoff and let out a humorless laugh even though I’m screaming inside. Harmless prank? Is he kidding?

“I understand you are in a tough spot right now with your grandmother’s illness and running the bakery,” he continues without waiting for me to answer, his mouth lifting in a sickly smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “If you want to keep it open, I suggest you move on from this.” He lowers his voice. “Everyone knows your situation. It would be a shame if your grandmother had to close her bakery after being in business for so many years,” he says, leaving a rigid taste in my mouth. “My client’s family understands lineage, and they have the power and means to end things the way they see fit or make it better by making sure rent at the bakery is affordable. Maybe helping you out for six months after graduation. I’m also very good friends with Trent Walker’s family …” He pauses. “They also hope you can accept as a way to resolve things.”

They think they can pay me off? Bastards.

“And what if that’s not good enough for me? What they did was a crime.”

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