Page 50 of Sugar Coated Secrets

She shakes her head. “You weren’t even in the country when it happened. It was my own fault. I was stupid and naïve…” She closes her eyes, struggling to say things she doesn’t want to.

It’s not like I expect her to open up to me and tell me her innermost secrets, but I have to help her with anything she needs.

After a few seconds, she opens her eyes and stares out the window, and it feels like the first time I took her home four years ago. It felt good when I did it, the same way it does now.

The tension lingers in the air.

In her mind, she believes that I'm just like everyone else in this town. I may not know her very well, but considering everything she’s been through, it’s clear that Dulce is strong. Resilient. Honest. She is determined and kind, putting all her dreams on hold. A human being who doesn’t deserve what life has thrown at her.

“Stupid to think what?” I ask after a while when it’s evident she’s not going to say any more without being pushed a little. I don’t want to say goodbye yet. Not without finding out what is going through her mind right now.

She sighs in defeat and opens the door. “Nothing. I-I…thanks for the ride, Ford.”

I reach out just as she is about to get out but hesitate and grip the steering wheel, not wanting her to be afraid of me. “Dulce, wait. Wait, please.”

She pauses and looks over her shoulder with an unreadable expression, giving me hope.

I’m sorry, Dulce, for everything,” I say honestly. “I know you might not believe me right now, but... I want to help you.”

Her chin jerks up a little with a determined expression. It triggers my instinct not to let her go, but I want her trust more than anything.

“No one can help me, Ford, and you’re the last person I expect anything from.” She gets out and shuts the door.

I watch as she walks on the little path of broken pavers toward her house, skipping every few steps to avoid the potholes. It takes everything in me to keep from going after her. My fixation with her erased everything else going on in my life, leaving nothing but her.

Trent’s confession probably brought back memories she’s been trying to forget for the past four years. But I think it's important for her to share what happened to her with someone. I can be that person. I know I can, but I don’t think she’s ready to believe when I tell her she’s not stupid and it wasn’t her fault.

Guilt runs through me like venom. Back in high school, I did nothing. I was a coward. I stood by and watched her endure the bullying. I believed I protected her by ignoring the bullying, hoping it would eventually stop.

But I wouldn’t have stood by and allowed what happened to her on prom night. Would she believe me if I told her that, though?

If we’re assigning blame, Trent and Chris are at the top of the list. But someone else was involved, too. Someone who did something way worse.

For four years, no one has helped her get justice. The money and power of Chris’s and Trent’s well-connected families have made sure of that.

Dulce Webster may not be important to anyone in this town besides her dying grandmother, but she is to me.

I place the car in first, peeling out as the back tires kiss the pavement. The adrenaline rush as the car hits one hundred and ten does nothing to calm the storm brewing in my veins.

By the time I make it back to Trent’s garage, the sun is setting with purple and orange streaks in the sky. The red neon sign outside the building shines brighter as the sun disappears. The two young guys constantly bickering outside seem to have left for the day. When I park, the only car in front is Trent's GTO.

I walk in and hear Trent muttering a curse, followed by metal hitting aluminum with a clang. He must have sensed my approach because he looks around the raised hood of Dulce's van, caked in dirt and grease.

“I said not to fix it,” I tell him tightly.

“Well, I never listened to my parents, so I’m not going to start with you,” he says, turning around to grab a tool.

“I’m buying her a new one,” I state.

He snorts. “Yeah, like she would take it coming from you. Why would she want anything from us, anyway? To be honest, you can’t blame her.”

“Not from you.” I pause, hating him for what he did. The broken look in her eyes at his confession is killing me inside, making my anger boil and causing my fist to clench and the tic in my jaw to run rampant. “She could have died!” I yell.

I wanted to confront him as soon as I found out, but I had to wait because I want to kill him.

“Don’t you think I know that?” he roars, glaring at me with bloodshot eyes. “Do you think I go to sleep at night knowing what I did to her?” He lets out a strangled cry of frustration, but I don’t feel sorry for him. Not him or Chris. Not even me. We all destroyed Dulce in some way.

“I broke her fucking phone, man.” He shuts his eyes. "She couldn't call for help. I…”

---