Chapter 26
26
DULCE
I close the register, then hand the older woman with curly red hair her change and slide the box of pastries toward them. “Thank you,” I say with a smile.
It’s ten in the morning, and it’s been nonstop. Closing for two days has customers pouring in like starving children. Not that I’m complaining.
“You look different,” Katie says, giving me a once-over.
I look down at the same uniform I wear every day of the week. “How’s that?”
Katie looks at me like she is studying a painting. “You have this fresh look on your face.”
“Nope.”
“Yep, I see it now,” she says, her eyes dancing. “You gave him some.”
I don’t have to ask to know she means Ford.
“Katie!”
“What?” she says, flushing bright red. “You look… you know.”
Mental note: never tell her that he showed up last night.
“If I did or didn’t, it’s none of your business.”
“You’re right,” she says, “but still…”
My eyes widen as another customer enters.
“Fine,” she grumbles, turning to help them with their order.
The doorbell dings again. I look up, and my heart drops as Summer waltzes in like nothing has changed since I last saw her. She is still beautiful despite her stuck-up personality that circles her everywhere she goes, looking beautiful with her perfectly styled blond hair, tailored designer clothes, and expertly applied makeup.
“Oh, hey, Dulce. It’s been a long time,” she says, giving me a fake smile like we are old friends.
“Not long enough,” I mutter to myself. “How can I help you, Summer?”
I’m surprised to see her. She moved out of town after graduation. Is she here because of Ford?
“Still mad?”
I want to throw sand in your eyes.
Instead, I plaster a fake professional smile. “I’m thrilled to see you."
“Are you sure? It was just high school.” She waves her hand. “It’s supposed to be like that.”
“Funny, I don’t remember it that way,” Katie says, giving her an unfriendly smile.
Summer looks at the menu board above as if she is deciding what to order and ignores Katie’s last remark.
She didn’t come to eat or order anything.
“What do you want, Summer?” I ask, my restraint running thin.
She sighs. “Fine. I heard…”
“Ford?” I interject.
“Yes,” she says with a bubbly smile that I would love nothing more than to smack off her face. “It’s why I’m here. I’m having lunch with him.”
My heart drops. He wouldn’t.
I swallow the hurt rising in my throat and ask, “Then why are you here?”
"I want to apologize for what happened on prom night. I overheard what happened, and I’m sorry. No one thought they would leave you…”
I blink, trying to forget. Her words fading.
Images of blood on my hands. So much blood dripping in a pool at my feet.
I blink the memory away, her face coming back into focus.
“Kind of late. It was four years ago,” I tell her, hating her more with every minute she stands in my bakery. I want nothing more than to kick her out, but I can’t because her father is the mayor. She could destroy my business.
“Time flies, doesn’t it?”
"It does, and there are some things one would rather forget." I glance at her hand, hoping to find a ring, but come up empty. Hoping there’s another reason as to why he wants to have lunch with her.
She smooths her salon-dyed blond hair. She is beautiful. Of course, he would have lunch with her.
He didn’t stay with me last night. He didn’t kiss me goodbye after he drove off after following me home. Her being here is a punch in the gut. A bucket of ice-cold water freezing my heart.
“I guess you should get going,” Katie chimes in. “You might be late.”
It was closer to eleven, but I couldn't be more grateful for Katie's persistence in getting Summer to leave. She probably came to gloat. She always saw me as a threat for some reason. I never understood why, and it was pointless to ask.
“You’re right; he might be waiting.” Summer gloats.
When she finally leaves, Katie turns to me. “What a bitch! If it weren’t for my job and the fact that she’s the mayor’s daughter, I would have reached over this counter and punched her in the face."
“I wouldn’t have stopped you, but you’re right. The only thing saving her right now is her father.”
“And the fact that her face was plastered in the local news next to her daddy doesn’t help. Do you think she is lying?”
I busy myself cleaning the counters. “No. They have history. I've heard that he got her pregnant before they broke up in high school, and she lost the baby. In high school, everyone pegged them to be a forever thing. Right before prom, I heard he cheated on her, which was why they broke up. I shouldn’t be surprised he reached out to her after all this time. They were together.”
She scoffs. “And you think he still holds a torch for her or something?”
I shrug in defeat. “I’m not sure what to think anymore.”
I need to let him go and accept that whatever we did meant nothing.
“You’re going to ghost him, aren’t you?” she says like she is reading my mind.
I’m not sure what I’ll do, but whatever Ford and I had going was over before it could ever begin.
I toss the rag on the counter. “We’re both different. It would never work, Katie. I know that.”
Sirens wail from outside, followed by the screeching of tires. Katie and the other small shop owners look out the storefronts.
“Damn,” she mutters, peering out the windowpane. “Where did all these cops come from? I thought Airy had four tops.”
I look out the window to see four more patrol cars fly down the street with their sirens on. I pull my phone out to see if there is a local alert, but there is nothing. “I wonder what happened.”
“Whatever it is, it must be bad,” Katie says. The screech of tires and more sirens follow.
Mr. Sheppard from the convenience store next door bursts in out of breath. “Did you hear?”
Mr. Sheppard is an old-timer. He is old and nosy, like most of the people in Airy, and the first to tell everyone when something is going on. Like if they catch someone stealing at the food mart. Or when a couple is getting divorced. No gossip is beneath him to share.
“No, Mr. Sheppard,” I reply.
“Old man Moody was attacked.” He shakes his head. The sun's glare catches his bald head. “Dead.”
“Moody?”
“You probably don’t know him. I mean, he was a crazy, sick bastard. I’m sure no one is going to miss him, but he was left for dead.” He tries to hide his shaky hand in his pocket.
All the color drains from my face. I can feel Katie’s stare, but I don’t know if I should feel relieved or scared. “How did he die?” I ask.
“He was attacked is what I heard. Someone found him on the side of the road, bludgeoned to death.”
“Shit,” Katie whispers.
After I deliver a custom-made cake, I turn right instead of left toward where Mr. Sheppard said they found Moody. I’m assuming it was the same road his house is on.
When I turn onto the road, I see caution tape and about ten police cars surrounding the area. A cop waves his hands like an air traffic controller when he sees my van, signaling for me to turn back, but I ignore him. I scan the police officers, looking for Danny. I see him leaning on the car with a grim expression while another officer tells him something.
I place the van in park and get out, ignoring the officer calling out, "Ma'am, you can't be here. This is an active crime scene.”
“Danny!” I call out, ignoring him.
He turns his head at my voice and pushes off the car. When he spots me, he doesn’t look pleased to see me.
“What are you doing here, Dulce? You need to go back to the bakery. I’ll meet you there when I can.”
“I heard?—”
He interrupts. “Go, Dulce.”
“I’m sorry, Officer Mays. She wouldn’t listen,” the cop directing the traffic says.
“What happened?” I ask Danny.
“We can’t give out any information. Please, Dulce. I’ll call you.”
“Ma’am…” the traffic cops call out, pointing behind me to leave.
A sports car rumbles behind me. I turn around, and Ford’s Porsche pulls up. The driver’s and passenger doors open. Ford eyes me in surprise, and then Summer gets out. I glance at Ford and notice he’s dressed like he was out on a lunch date. It feels like a kick to the gut.
He looks between me and Summer with a blank expression.
“I guess you’re right, Officer Mays. I shouldn’t be here,” I say and walk back to my van.
“Dulce,” Ford calls out, but I ignore him, blinking back the sting of tears and hating myself for thinking she was lying.
I slam the driver’s side door and fire up the van. Ford knocks on the window, but I ignore him and back out. There is nothing left for me to say.
The familiar tightness weaves its way into my chest as I drive off with tears streaming down my face. Thick, heavy, full of pain for something so close I could touch, yet so far out of reach it’s impossible to keep.