Chapter 11
11
DULCE
“ D o you think it’s too much, Grandma?”
She looks up from the trashy romance novel she’s reading and gives me a once-over with a critical eye. I’m nervous. I’ve never been on a date before, but she doesn’t know that. I’m wearing a yellow bohemian summer dress that stops mid-thigh. It was hers when she was in high school. I bought the espadrille platform wedges with a raffia braid wrapped ankle ties on clearance at Mrs. Wilk’s boutique shop at the end of the strip mall.
“You look gorgeous,” she says. “Mary, come in here.”
“I’m coming,” Mary calls out from the kitchen.
Grandma coughs, and my heart breaks from the guilt of leaving her to go out. She takes a deep breath, catching her breath. Mary walks in, adjusting the oxygen and checking her O2 level. When she is done, my grandmother continues, “Take a look at Dulce.”
“Mary comes into the room from the kitchen. Her eyes light up when she looks at me. “Oh my. You’ll give that young man a heart attack when he looks at you.”
“Are you sure I look okay?” I ask worriedly.
I’ve seen the other women my age around town. They dress differently. More chic and some more provocative. They get their hair done at the salon. I wish I could apply more makeup, but I’m on a budget. The best I could do is a tweezer for my brows and lip gloss from the health and beauty aisle at the pharmacy while waiting for Grandma’s medication.
“You look beautiful, Dulce.” Mary smiles warmly. “Turn around in a circle so I can get a good look at you.” I turn around like a little girl in a princess costume like I used to do for my mom when I was little. My long dark brown hair whips around my shoulders.
“Did you wear it?” Mary says naughtily with a knowing smile.
I flush. “Yes.”
“What is she talking about?” Grandma asks, looking between us.
Mary walks over and fluffs her pillows so Grandma is more comfortable. “I got her a thong so she wouldn’t have panty lines in that dress.”
“It feels like you’re wearing nothing, Grandma. You should try it,” I say playfully.
“Good. Mary will get me one next time I go dancing,” she teases.
“A red one,” I say.
“Black,” Grandma says, “so it will show when I wear a short white skirt.”
“Grandma, you’re worse than Mary.”
The doorbell rings, and my stomach drops. “He’s here.”
Danny takes me to Mick’s, a bar and restaurant tucked away on the corner of Main Street. It’s inviting, with warm-amber lighting casting a soothing glow over the pavement below, and it is the nicest dining establishment in town.
The air was heavy with the subtle scent of hops, grilled steakand the richness of freshly polished wood within. Made of dark wood, the bar's surface was smooth and weathered from years of laughing and friendly elbows. Behind the bar, the shelves were adorned with rows of meticulously organized bottles, each catching the light and demonstrating the precision of choosing them.
Danny gives me a tentative smile with a hopeful glimmer in his eyes as we wait to be shown to our table. He has been a gentleman since he picked me up. I was a little embarrassed at the state of the house, but he didn’t seem to notice all the things that needed to be fixed.
“You look beautiful, Dulce,” he says softly as the hostess approaches. My cheeks feel hot, and I hope I don’t look as red as a tomato.
“Right this way,” the hostess says.
Danny leads, following her to our table. I fidget with the hem of my dress. My eyes dart around the room, searching for a familiar face and hoping I don’t run into Ford.
The music is loud, but I can still hear the boisterous laughter and pool play from the bar area in the back of the restaurant.
We are seated at a table with a view of the bar section nestled near a window. I sit across from Danny. My hands are sweaty in my lap. I'm not used to eating in a restaurant. I don’t know what to order and don’t want to make it obvious that this is my first date. The last time I went out to a formal restaurant was when I was nine. There was a kid's menu with only four choices, and my mom ordered for me.
I look down at the menu, the letters swimming before my eyes from the many selections. I flip the menu over, and the drink menu is worse. Different wines, spritzers, beer, and soft drinks.
“Are you okay?” Danny asks, his voice barely a whisper. His eyes soft as he watches me.
I’ve never been to a restaurant as an adult, but I can’t say that. I can’t tell him I’ve never been on a date or had my first kiss. It’s embarrassing. It will bring up the past, and that is the last thing I want to do right now.
“Yes,” I say, a bit uneasily.
I’ve been so nervous since he showed up. I felt like such an idiot when I almost slipped getting in his truck. I wasn’t aware the steps opened automatically. He must think I’m stupid for giving him one-word answers. It feels like I have mothballs in my mouth.
I look up for a minute and see the effort he put into his appearance. He looks different outside of his uniform. He smells nice and wears blue jeans and a light blue short-sleeved shirt neatly pressed open at the throat. His skin is smooth and bronzed from the sun. His hair looks the same, combed over to the left side. My eyes fall on his arm, where all the tattoos disappear under his sleeve.
The server approaches our table with practiced ease. Something dark flickers in her gaze when she spots Danny. A worried look crosses Danny’s features.
“Welcome to Mick’s. My name is Roxie,” she says with a saccharine smile. “How are you two enjoying your evening so far?” It must be nice when someone calls and shows up.”
My appetite plummets at the familiar way she looks at him. I wasn’t aware he was seeing someone. Underneath her brittle smile, she is pretty. With curly brown hair with highlights you could only get at a salon, expertly applied makeup, and a full figure, she’s making me feel imperfect, a feeling I’m well acquainted with.
“Don’t do this, Roxie,” he says in a low tone.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she says with a forced smile, her jealousy seeping through the veil of professionalism. Her eyes land on me, and I want the chair to swallow me under the dirty looks she gives me. “What can I get you to drink?”
“I’ll have water,” I rush out. “How do you guys know each other?”
She glances at Danny and back. “We went out on a few dates. Overnight dates. Did he not tell you about me?”
I give Danny a questioning look.
“Roxie,” he warns in a hard tone.
She ignores him. “We were supposed to go out two weeks ago, but he didn’t show up and wouldn’t take my calls.” My eyes drop to the menu, the beat of my heart hammering like a drum.
I guess he can see the look in my eyes because his eyes soften a bit. I’m not sure if it’s pity like I’ve seen so many times.
“If you’ll excuse me,” I mutter, grabbing my purse and standing, looking for the women’s restroom.
“Dulce,” Danny calls out. “Please…let me explain.”
There is nothing he can say. Deep down, I knew this was a mistake. He kept asking me out every month for the first two years since prom night when he found me and every week for the last two.
I finally spot the bathroom sign. I push the door, quickly find the last stall, and lock myself inside.
When the bathroom door opens, I hear footsteps, but then there’s only silence. I wait a few seconds, but there is no sound of another stall, the sink being used, or anyone leaving.
I try to see through the small space between the stalls for someone, but it’s empty. I swallow nervously and slide the latch.
I walk out, and my breath catches in my throat. The room shrinks around me. My heart pounds, and everything fades as I stare at Ford Keller.
“What are you doing here?” I ask tensely.
His gaze travels slowly, like he’s seeing me for the first time. “It looks like you need a ride home?”
“How did you know I was here?” My thoughts are scattered like a pinball machine. He gives me a devilish smile that makes my stomach flip.
“I was at the bar, and this beautiful woman walked into the restaurant,” he teases. “Everyone turned around and couldn’t help noticing that she was with the wrong guy. So they sent me.”
He’s joking, trying to make me feel better.
“People at the bar sent Ford Keller after the poor humiliated girl on a date?” I reply playfully.
“Is that why you turned me down?” he asks, crossing his arms with a playful smile.
I look away, not meeting his gaze.
He steps forward. “Why don’t we fix that?” he offers.
“I would like to go home,” I say truthfully.
“I can do that.”
“I don’t trust you,” I admit. “I don’t trust anyone right now.”
“Hmm…Tell you what. Call your grandmother and tell her you’ll be home. Send your location to her or whomever is with her right now so they know where you are.”
I don’t have a ride home, and it’s at least five miles away. Walking is not an option. Uber doesn’t work in this small town, and the cab drivers are out for the night.
I pull my iPhone from my small crossbody and send Mary my location from the Maps app. After two seconds, a text comes through with a thumbs-up. That was one thing Danny had taught me since that night.
“Okay.”
He smiles, and his blue eyes flicker with a promise. “Alright, let’s go.”
He turns around, and the bathroom door swings open. Three women stumble inside, smelling like cigarettes and beer. Their eyes widen in recognition when they see Ford, and then their gazes slide to me.
“Oh my God.”
“Is that?—”
“Good evening, ladies.” He takes my hand and moves, leading me out of the bathroom and pushing open the door to the rear exit.
The cool breeze brushes my skin with the smell of seared steaks from the kitchen vents, making my stomach growl.
“Hungry?” he asks with a smile.
My stomach takes the opportunity to let out a low growl.
“Starving.”
“My car is right this way. I had to park on the side to avoid people noticing me. I already had many posing to take pictures in front of it at the gas station.”
He stops in front of a newer model Lamborghini like the one he was driving that day he gave me a ride home in the rain. Except this car is lipstick cherry red with black seats.
He rushes to the passenger door like he’s stealing a car. It swings up like I remembered.
“Be careful. This one is a little lower than the last one you were in.”
“Okay,” I say and try to get in, holding the back of my dress without flashing him my ass.
When I’m inside, he leans to buckle me in. His cologne causes the bad memories to fade and leave the ones I felt that day in the rain. A burst of butterflies flutters in my stomach. His hand inches from my thigh. He turns his head, our eyes meet, our lips a breath away, and then, it happens. He kisses me. Slow at first, like he’s memorizing the texture of my lips.
He groans low in his throat. I breathe him in, memorizing the scent of his breath mixed with something fruity and mint. But I’m frozen, not knowing what to do with my tongue or hands.
His eyes never leave mine when he drags his tongue over the seam of my lips like he is sampling how I taste in slow, deliberate strokes. There is no hate or fear, just…want. A dark want that was always left unfinished. A love story with missing pages that needed to be written.
I wanted to burn all the bad pages that ruined it. The ones that haunted me with thoughts of what they did. Because they took something from me. Something that belonged to him, and he didn’t even know it.
His kiss burns. His tongue marks my soul. The first that would never be forgotten.
The way his hand hovers over my thigh, needing to be entrapped in his hands, to look at me the way he is looking at me now. Unbidden.
“You taste so sweet,” he whispers against my lips. “I’ve wanted to kiss you for a long time.”
My heart melts.
It caves.
He sets it on fire.
All I ever wanted was a kiss from the boy who stole my heart and shattered it under the blue firestorm of his gaze.
Even if he could never be mine, I was his ashes. Ruined for anyone else. Too far gone in the web of lies and secrets this town created.
I accepted the truth that night.
We weren’t meant to be together.
In the same way, I couldn’t bring my parents back from death. I couldn’t save my grandmother from dying. But I had one kiss, and it was all I ever wanted.
Four Years Ago
DULCE
A twig snaps, sending a jolt of terror through my body. My heart thuds in my chest, echoing in my ear. I look at the ground where Trent shattered my phone, and it's unrecognizable. The screen shattered into a tiny mess of glass. I pick up the phone, but the pieces break apart.
All I can think of is walking in the same direction we came from until I can call for help or until someone comes.
I hear another twig snap. There is a distant hoot of an owl followed by a breeze. Trees sway. The wind slips through the leaves.
After walking for a while, the sense of someone watching me is overwhelming. I take my shoes off. My feet are aching from the straps digging into the knuckles of my feet.
My breaths come in shallow, rapid gasps.The smell of dirt and moss heavy in the air. My hands sweat. My tongue sticks to the roof of my mouth. I try to think how long we were in the car from my house until they left me here, but I come up empty. I ignore the sting from tiny rocks under the pads of my feet. The unfamiliar sounds of thrashing branches, casting shadows across the road.
Then I hear breathing sounds followed by padding of feet coming behind me. Like an animal. A coyote or bear. Whatever it is, it’s coming. I glance behind me, but I don’t see anything. The sound grows louder. Whatever is behind me is picking up speed.
I start to run, not sure where to go, but I push my legs. My bare feet pound on the pavement. The wind is whipping my hair. The skirt of my dress is flying behind me. The air bites my lungs, tears sting my eyes and blur my vision, and my legs are cramping, but I push harder. All I could think about was my grandmother. I have to get to her. I can’t leave her to die alone.
I stop abruptly at the fork in the road. My breaths are frantic, and I’m not sure where to run, but the movement of something between the brush causes a scream to erupt from my throat.
I drop my shoes and small clutch on the ground. I look ahead. The grass on both sides is tall. The moon disappears behind the clouds, and it’s pitch black. I can hardly see my hand in front of me, but I start running again.
I look over my shoulder, and my gut clenches in fear. My hands shake. A dark figure stands in the middle of the road. The hairs on the back of my neck stand up. I blink, and then, it’s gone.
I turn and run toward the brush of grass and slip down a ravine. Hard pricks from the rough ground scratch the skin on my thighs. My dress rips like a zipper opening. My arms flail when I can’t feel the ground and keep falling. I cry out when needles from the bark of a tree cut my hands and feet when I finally land with a thud. The sting makes my eyes water.
I can’t see anything.
Something scrapes my skin. “Please…” I whimper in the dark. “Why, Ford?”
Why did you do this to me?
My heart knocks against my ribs as I gulp air, struggling to steady my breathing. The jagged texture of something scrapes against my skin. Finally, I find even ground, pushing my way through the damp leaves.
The muscles in my legs tremble. My ears are on high alert.
Something stomps wildly behind me through the underbrush, followed by screams like a bird being mutilated. My blood turns cold, and suddenly, I feel something heavy on my head, and then pain, so much pain. Then darkness.