Chapter 27
27
DULCE
“ I t was Ford again,” Mary says, coming into my grandmother’s room with her mouth pulled into a frown.
“Still not speaking to him?” my grandmother says, sounding out of breath while sitting in her wheelchair.
I give her a weak smile. “No.”
It’s been a week since I saw him with Summer on that godforsaken road. I ignore his calls. I don’t answer the door when he stops by.
When he shows up at the bakery, I make sure to remain in the kitchen, making it a point to tell Katie I'm not available. I know I have to talk to him at some point, but I have to accept it.
“You still have feelings for him.”
I shake my head. “I do have feelings for him, but I have to accept that he doesn’t feel the same way. We’re different.”
“I think you’re not giving him a solid chance to explain himself. He’s here for a reason, and that reason has something to do with you. There is no denying that,” my grandmother says.
I tell her about Summer.
It was safe to confess that part to her. She knows I could never compete with Summer. They did go out on a date. They were in the car together when they showed up. I don’t know why they would. I didn’t ask, and frankly, I don’t care.
Moody’s attacker could have been anyone. Family of the girl he assaulted. Who knows how many enemies he’s gained over the years? That is probably why he lived out there.
Mary leaves the room for a few minutes and then walks back in and says, “Ford is outside wanting to see you.”
“Talk to him, Dulce,” my grandmother says, trying not to cough.
She’s getting worse. I can see it. Not much longer.
Not wanting to cause her stress, I agree, “I’ll be right back.”
I pat Mary’s shoulder on the way out. I open the door reluctantly and find Ford sitting on the old beat-up bench outside with his head in his hands.
He looks up when he hears the groan from the front door as I push it open.
He gets up from the bench, smoothing out his black T-shirt. “Dulce.”
I cross my arms over my chest. “What are you doing here, Ford?”
“Why aren’t you answering my calls?” he asks like he doesn’t already know.
I'm still trying to figure out how he got my number since I changed it four years ago, but he'll lie about it, and I'm sick of the lies. I’m tired of this town and the people in it.
“Because I have nothing to say to you.”
He clears his throat. “Is this about Summer?”
“You don’t owe me an explanation. For all I know, you have ten women back home waiting for you wherever you live.”
It’s then I realize that I don’t know where he lives or much about his life outside of Airy and what is posted on social media.
“Vegas. I live in Vegas, and the world knows I’m not with anyone exclusively. And I'm telling you, I'm not with anyone else.”
“Good to know.” I turn away from him. “I have to get back inside.”
I pull the door.
“Dulce, wait.” He holds the door.
“What?”
“It’s not what you think. Summer and me. It’s not what it looked like.”
I shake my head. “I don’t care.”
That’s a lie, of course. I do care. Ford has the power to rip my heart out of my chest, and I need to save it because that is all that is left.
“But I do,” he says.
“Good for you.”
I pull the door, but he grips it tighter.
“Tell me what happened that night.”
“Why?” I croak. “Why would you ask me that?”
“Because I want to know.”
“I can’t.”
“Why not?”
“I can’t tell you here.”
“Your grandmother doesn’t know, does she?”
I shake my head.
“Come with me.”
I can see the determination in his eyes. He isn’t going to let this go. Whatever this is.
“Why are you doing this?” I ask.
“Because someone needs to.”
“It’s not going to change what happened or what I think. You’re you, and I’m me. We’re different.”
“Is it because you think I have something going on with Summer?”
“It’s none of my business.” I shake my head slowly. “You don’t owe me an explanation, Ford. We aren’t together. We aren’t even dating.”
It’s the truth. We aren’t even a thing. I was too busy reading too much into it because he was the boy I had a crush on. The boy I could see giving all my firsts to but all of those firsts were taken. There isn’t much left.
“I want to change that. I want to date you.”
I ignore the butterflies or the way my subconscious screams at me to say yes.
I laugh like he has lost his mind. “I’m not your type.”
He grins. “What is my type?”
“Model type, blond, beautiful.”
“I never said I like blondes, and beauty is subjective.”
“It’s what the tabloids say.”
“You’ve been watching? You googled me? You shouldn’t listen to anything on the internet.”
I did, but I don’t want to admit it. It would make him think I was fangirling him, which I was after the night in my bedroom. Search his name on the internet, and you get hundreds of hits. He has over three million followers, all over the world. He’s a sex icon with his commercials alone.
“I don’t have to watch or google you; you kind of pop up out of nowhere.”
“For the record, I don’t like blondes.” His eyes fall to my hips. “I prefer curves and women who can bake. Especially cookies.”
“I’m sure you could find plenty of women who can bake.”
“Why? If there is one right in front of me that I like, and she isn’t blond.” He lowers his voice. “For the record, I like brunettes who wear sexy retro uniforms to work and stay late to bake my favorite cookies.”
“Is this you flirting with me?”
“This is me asking you out for the weekend.”
“I have work, and you know I can’t leave.”
“It is about work. I kind of told my manager Sugar Coated Sweets was sponsoring the event, and at the same time, you’re coming as my date.”
“You did what?”
He smirks. “You won’t take my help so I figured out a way I could help you without you feeling that you owe me. There will be millions of people watching, thousands of fans. It’s great publicity, and the fact that your bakery is my favorite is a plus.”
I’m speechless. I don’t know what to say. He made sure I wouldn’t turn his offer down because all that he just said is true. It’s a great opportunity. One that I cannot refuse.
“Alright. I’ll go.”
He smiles. “You won’t regret it, Dulce. I promise to take good care of you.” He looks at the front door nervously before asking, “Can I steal you away for an hour?”
“Like right now?”
He nods. “I’ve missed you, and there is nothing I want more than to spend time with you.”
I shouldn’t leave with him or believe anything he has to say, but I decide to go because when it comes to Ford, I lose all rational thought, and so far, I feel I can trust him.
After telling Mary I’ll be back, I find myself in the car with Ford parked in the back of the diner after two milkshakes.
“Have you ever talked about it?”
I shake my head, playing with the straw in my cup. “Not since the cops, no.”
“You know, I may not be a doctor, but if you ever want anyone to listen, I’m right here, Dulce. I can listen.”
Tears prickle the back of my throat. No one has ever offered to listen to anything I have to say unless it was forced or required of me.
“I know it doesn’t change what happened but sometimes it helps for someone else to know. To understand.”
“You won’t like to hear what I have to say.”
“I won’t like it, but I want to understand what you went through.”
I tell him everything that happened that night. I stop after I was hit on the head and blacked out.
“You were attacked. Like old man Moody?” he asks, trying to figure out exactly how it happened.
I look at my hands between my thighs and notice they're shaking. He places his warm hand over them let the words I hate tumble out of my mouth. “I was raped.” I sniff. “I woke up and knew something wasn’t right. Everything hurt. I’ve never been with anyone before so I had to piece it all in my head quickly what was wrong.” Two fat tears slide down my cheeks. “No one did anything. It sounded like they were listening, but they weren't, if that makes sense. I…” I trail off, not ready to tell him the rest. I’m not sure I could ever tell anyone.
“Shh…” He pulls me into his arms, and I breathe in his scent. “I’m so sorry, Dulce. I’m so fucking sorry.” I cry in his arms. I don’t know how long he holds me, but I feel safe for the first time since it happened.
When he pulls back, there is a grim expression on his face.
“I found out something you’re not going to like, but I have to tell you.”
With the palm of my hand, I wipe my face. “What is it?”
“Old man Moody is related to Officer Mays.”
I feel like I’m drowning. Then a loud ring assaults my ears, but I only catch the last part of what he says next.
“Nephew. Mays’s middle name is Moody.”
“What the hell?”