Chapter 21
21
DULCE
“ I s this it?” Katie asks, looking at the modern garage in awe when she pulls up to Trent’s garage.
“Yeah.”
“This is the douchebag who broke your phone that night.”
“Yep, the one and only.” I get out and squint, dreading having to talk to Trent. "I have to warn you," I say, closing the door. "He's a dick."
She remarks, "I'm accustomed to guys who are dicks. You should meet my ex-boyfriend. He’s a real piece of work.”
“Is he the reason you’re running?”
I don’t want to pry, but I’m taking a wild guess.
“Why lie?” she says, walking in front of me.
When we walk inside, it’s surprisingly cool, even with the overhead door open.
A man wearing a mechanic's shirt glances upward. I didn’t see him the last time I was here. He was working on a car that resembled a supercar Ford would drive. A supercar that you find on the track. He drops a tool, wipes his hand on a towel, and walks up. “Can I help you?”
“Is Trent here?” I look around and spot my van in the back, looking like an eyesore compared to the expensive cars.
“He’s in his office,” he says, a worried look crosses his face.
“Could you get him for us?” Katie says
The mechanic raises his brows. “Alright.”
He walks over to the office. “Trent,” he calls out.
I look toward the office window overlooking the bay has its blinds closed.
“What?” Trent says in a muffled voice.
“You got some ladies looking for you.”
The door swings open, and I suck in a breath.
“Shit,” Katie mutters.
My eyes go wide. “Holy shit. What happened?”
His face is different shades of black and purple, darker around his eyes. His nose looks broken.
With his right eye swollen shut, he gazes at me through the tiny slit in his left eye. He winces from the cuts on his lips when he says, “Hi, Dulce.”
I can’t stop staring at all the damage. I should feel a wave of satisfaction, but for some reason, I don’t.
I'm surprised he doesn't call me by the other slew of names he tossed my way in high school.
“What…happened?”
A door opens, and the sound of footsteps makes me look up at the stairs from the back of the bay. It's Ford, fresh out of a shower. His hair is wet. The black tank top does nothing to hide his muscles or tattoos. The gray sweats he is wearing does nothing to hide...
“Hi, Dulce,” Ford says with amusement in his voice.
I look away, hating myself for getting caught staring. Focus, Dulce.
I glance at Katie. She raises a brow and then looks at Trent.
“I fell in the shower,” Trent finally says.
Ford leans on the red sports car, watching Trent closely.
I know Trent didn’t slip to end up with a face like that.
“What were you doing when you slipped?” Katie says it acerbically. “Dropped the soap.”
“Very funny,” Trent fires back, looking at me.
My eyes cut to Ford when he says, “He’ll be alright. Just a little fender bender in the shower.”
“That looks like it really hurts,” Katie says.
“It’s not too bad,” Trent says. “You work with Dulce at the bakery.”
I roll my eyes. He looks like a swollen pumpkin, and he still has the balls to flirt with Katie.
“Don’t worry,” Ford says, pushing off the car with a dark look in his light eyes. “He’ll be fine.” He places his hand on Trent’s shoulder, causing him to grimace. “Right, brother?”
“Right,” Trent says.
I don't want to be part of whatever is going on. It is obvious Ford kicked his ass.
“You don’t have to hide the fact that you kicked his ass,” Katie says to Ford.
I clear my throat. “I wanted to ask if you had the estimate ready to fix the van.”
“It’s fixed,” Trent says.
“How… how much?” I stammer, hoping I have enough.
Ford reaches into his pocket and picks up my keys, revealing a small cake on the chain. “It’s taken care of,” he says.
I look at Trent, and he nods in approval.
“I can’t…”
I don’t want to owe them anything.
“Dulce,” Katie says, reaching for the keys from Ford. She whirls and looks at me. “It’s taken care of.”
I shake my head and look at my black and white Vans, dirty from the woods.
Ford steps forward. “Can I have a minute with Dulce, Katie?”
Katie looks over her shoulder. “If you promise not to hurt her,” she says in a hard tone.
“I would never hurt her, Katie,” he says with a hurtful expression like the idea repulses him.
“You have,” she says in a stern tone, looking between Ford and Trent. “All of you have. You’re all a bunch of pieces of shit.”
“I know,” Ford admits. “But I’ll never hurt her.”
“He’s right,” Trent says, gesturing to his face. “He’ll do this again if I so much as look at her.”
I grimace at how awful his face looks. Why?” I ask.
“You know why, Dulce.” Ford nods at Trent. “That was for the phone. He can't talk through one for a while or see a text.”
“You can’t beat people up when you were part of it,” I tell him.
“I can, and I will. I know you don’t understand why, and it might not make much sense to you right now, but all I can tell you is this is only the beginning.”
“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Katie asks, confused, looking between Ford and Trent.
“If she told you, you know exactly what it means,” Ford says, not sure, but I’m assuming he thinks she does because I brought her here with me.
Katie scoffs. "What're you going to go reaping souls or some shit?”
Ford crosses his arms across his chest, making his biceps bulge, and my pulse picks up speed. “If that’s what it takes.” He glances at me. “I’m not leaving until it’s done.”
“What’s done?” I ask, confused. “What are you going to do? You’re not going to jeopardize everything you have worked for.”
“I don’t care about that, Dulce. I care about you.”
Tears slide down my cheeks in frustration. “Don’t…”
He cups my cheek, wiping my tears away with his thumb. “Can I talk to you for a second?” He looks at Katie, then at me. “Alone?”
I nod and follow him into Trent’s office. When he shuts the door, he wipes the other side of my cheek with his thumb.
“What do you want?”
He closes the space between us. “I’m not leaving until I find out what really happened to you, Dulce. I know you’re not going to tell me, and that’s okay. I’ll find out my way.”
“You’re wasting your time.”
I'm uncertain about his plans, but too much time has already passed. It’s too late.
"I don't," he says, looking down at my shoes.
He looks up. “Why are your shoes caked in mud?”
“They’re old,” I explain. “I’ve had them for a while.”
“Katie’s are the same way,” he points out, looking at Katie’s shoes.
I scoff, not wanting to admit where we were. All that does is leave him with more questions I don’t want to answer.
“You’re a shoe expert now?”
He smiles. “I’m a lot of things.”
“I’m sure.”
He gets closer, causing me to lift my chin so I can meet his eyes. I should put distance between us. We should leave, but I can’t. His gaze holds me firmly in place.
“Tell me, Dulce. Where were you and Katie before you got here?”
“You’re following me now?”
“No, even though I should.”
“Why?”
“Because I need to make sure you’re safe.”
“Bad timing.”
Something dark passes through his eyes. “Trust me, I know.”
“Do you?”
His lips are a breath away; his eyes trace my lips. “Where, Dulce?”
“Where it happened.”
“The road.”
I nod.
“Why?”
I close my eyes briefly. “There’s a cabin and...”
“And?”
I tell him about old man Moody. I don’t know why I tell him. He’s the last person I should confide in.
“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 was my 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.
His face darkens. “I’m not trying to save you... I’m going to do something no one has ever done.”
“And what is that?”
With the pad of his thumb, he pushes my bottom lip down. Our eyes lock. My heartbeat triples in speed. Then his gaze slowly falls to my mouth, like he wants nothing more than to taste me.
“Fight for you,” he says before lowering his head and taking my lips.
My arms wrap around his neck. He grabs my thighs, lifts me, and walks us toward the wall. My back hits it with a small thud.
“Ford,” I whimper when I feel his thick cock between my legs.
“Dulce,” he rasps against my lips, grinding his hips.
I arch my back. He sucks my neck, then nibbles my ear. A thousand needles prickle my skin, causing me to gasp, grinding against him, hating that my jeans are in the way. I’m wet, hot, and want nothing more than to feel his skin on mine.
A knock on the door breaks our spell. My feet hit the ground, and his face is still in the crook of my neck when I see Trent at the doorway.
“Get the fuck out,” Ford says, taking a deep breath like he’s struggling.
Trent walks out without saying a word. A surge of heat flushes my cheeks at being caught.
Ford pulls away slightly and whispers, “Let’s get you home.”