Page 23 of Fueled Hate

“Even if I walk away now, there won’t be a happy ending for anyone. It’s too late for that.”

Bryce places his hand on my shoulder, gripping it as he says, “It’s never too late.”

“Yeah. It is.” I shove off the car, yank the door open, drop into the seat, and speed off, leaving the celebrating crowd behind. I don’t want the glory, the praise, or even the money. Peace. I need peace. This race should’ve given me some peace. It should’ve eased some of the pain, but now, it only feels like it’s embedded deeper.

It is too late—for everyone involved.

14

Sadie

“You still with me over there?” Willow asks, sitting on the couch next to me.

“Yeah,” I mutter, staring at the TV. There’s a show flickering on the screen, but I can’t pay attention to it. Everything seems to be hazy since I walked away from the track. The drive home with Willow was filled with her cussing everyone out—Kyle, Dylan, Parker—no matter that they couldn’t hear her, that didn’t stop her. She did call Parker and yell at him (again) for not stopping the foolery, but I don’t blame Parker. I blame the other idiots who took it upon themselves to designate me as a prize to possess. Their fragile male egos are so fucked up.

Willow looks to me when a knock sounds on the door, then stands from the couch, stomping her way across the living room. Jerking the door open, she doesn’t skip a beat and resumes her verbal assault—my girl is fired up—as Kyle stands silent.

“I need to talk to her.” His pleading, pained voice sends rage shooting through my veins.

Rising from the couch, I walk to the doorway, stepping in front of Willow who has yet to cease yelling obscenities at Kyle, even as she walks away and plops back down on the couch.

“Now you want to talk? Why is it you’re always ready to talk after the fact?”

“Sadie, I’m sorry. Everything happened so fast. I didn’t think—”

“That’s right. You didn’t think about anyone but yourself, like always.”

“He’s bad news, Sadie. It was just a stupid bet. Don’t go anywhere near him.”

Is he for real? That’s his concern? Me holding up the terms of the bet that he made on my behalf? “I won’t be going anywhere near him—or you, for that matter.”

“Don’t do this. We’ve been together too long to throw it all away.”

“We aren’t together. I told you that this morning. And any smidgen of a chance that we had to remain friends went up in flames when you offered me up as a trophy to be passed around.”

“I never thought he’d win. He had to have cheated or something. There’s no way he beat me fairly. Andrew said the car isn’t stock. Dylan modified it. I didn’t know.”

“It doesn’t matter. Everything is done, and you lost more than a stupid race, but that’s still all you’re worried about.” Stepping back, I push the door closed.

Kyle raises a hand, placing his palm flush against the door, preventing it from closing by a few inches. “Sadie, he’s going to hurt you.”

“Then y’all have a lot in common.” Shoving the door closed, I twist the dead bolt, satisfied when the lock clicks into place. Turning to face Willow, I say, “I’m going to bed. I have to be at work early.”

“Yell if you need me,” Willow says, making her way into her room.

“I think you’ve yelled enough for the both of us,” I tease.

“That’s what I’m here for. Buncha boneheads … they deserved it and more,” she gives me a thumbs-up before stepping into her bedroom.

Yeah. They all played a part, but Dylan is the one who escalated it. He’s the one I have the urge to knock some sense into. Kyle was a lost cause to begin with. Yeah, the history between us matters, but it also can’t be undone.

15

Sadie

The morning is speeding by but I’m dragging ass through it, barely able to keep up. The good thing about working early is leaving early, but there’s still another hour left of my shift and Big Tobe’s isn’t slowing down anytime soon.

The hope of smooth sailing through the remainder of my time is lost when Kyle and Andrew walk in, taking a seat in my section. Damn it. There’s no way I’m serving that blockhead. Hurrying to the waitstaff area, I spot Carrie. “Hey, can you take one of my tables, please?”