Page 45 of Fueled Hate

Returning my focus out the passenger window, I stare at the tranquil scenery passing by, a complete contradiction to how I feel. Now I won’t be able to visit home without thinking about Dylan’s idiotically alluring face. “Nowhere … somewhere … anywhere but here.”

“All right. Let’s take a ride by Kyle’s house. I’m sure the family would be thrilled to see you.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“Try me.”

“If you know where the Boones live, why do I need to show you around town? Seems like you already have a really good feel for it.”

He doesn’t respond, confirming my suspicion.

“This isn’t your first visit to Staffordsville. How many times have you been here?”

“A few.”

“‘A few’ as in two or a few … hundred?”

“Why does it matter?” He answers with a question, but it tells me what I wanted to know. How long has Dylan been around? How long, exactly, has he been lingering in the shadows?

“Because there’s nothing I can show you. You’re very familiar with everything and everyone in my life. You do know more about me than I know about myself, so there’s nothing new I can show you.”

“Take me to the place I can’t find. The place that makes you happiest. At peace with everything going on inside your mind. Where you can forget everything swarming around that you have no control over.”

A place immediately comes to mind, but I don’t say it. It’s on the tip of my tongue, begging to respond to the sincerity in his voice. But I shouldn’t buy it. And I shouldn’t allow him to insert himself into another aspect of my life. He’s doing a damn good job on his own, without any help from me. And there’s so many questions I have that he won’t answer. Maybe this is the time to get some answers.

“Tell me the truth. Did you mess with my tire so I’d end up on the side of the road?”

He remains silent, as expected.

“Why should I show you anything when you won’t give me simple answers?”

“There are no simple answers.”

“Of course. Not when you lie about everything and talk in circles.” And that’s all we do, go round and round and get nowhere. So I take a cue from him and remain silent until I notice the parking lot he’s turning into.

“What are we doing here?” I look around the place in town I’m least at peace—the parking lot of the only grocery store in Staffordsville. The same place my mom’s life ended. The best thing about moving to Sunland is not having to shop at this store. Even when I was still living at home, I avoided this place at all costs. The few times Dad couldn’t stop at the store, I drove thirty minutes to the nearest store a town over just to avoid shopping at the one a few miles from home.

“Figured we could grab something to cook for supper since you don’t seem like you want to go anywhere else.” His left hand moves to the door handle. Without thought, I grab his arm then immediately release it.

“Let’s just drive around. There’s plenty at the house to cook.”

Dylan scans the lot around us, then looks back to me. Just when I thought he’d say something, he hesitates, closes his mouth, and starts the STI back up. With every second of distance he puts between me and that parking lot, I can breathe a little easier. I’m just thankful for once Dylan didn’t argue with me … something that is so unlike him. And it hits me.

“You know,” I whisper, unable to summon the anger I want to feel only because he’s taking me away from the nightmare instead of forcing me to face it.

“Sadie, I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine.” I keep my face turned away from him, letting the tears slide down my cheeks. “I’m fine.”

“Now you’re lying to the both of us.”

Agreed. I am lying, but it’s easier that way. And even if I face the truth that I’m not all right, it doesn’t change anything. Mom is still gone. Dad is still wrapped up in illegal dealings. Levi still hates me. And Dylan will still make me suffer until he’s ready to discard me. There’s no stopping the course we’re on.

As though I’d thought it into existence, Dylan reaches over, entwining his fingers with mine. Gently, he lifts my hand to his mouth and feathers a tender kiss on my wrist. Instead of pulling away, I hold tight, not knowing if it’s him or something else I’m trying to hold onto. Ever since my mom died, I’ve been grasping at straws, reaching for anything and everything I can hold onto to steady myself. But Dylan is an odd source of steadiness. He feels like the eye of the storm—calmness in the center, surrounded by chaos. And I know I can’t stay in the eye for too long; that when I eventually step away, the downpour will engulf me.

* * *

I can’t recall the last time we’ve sat at the kitchen table and all eaten together. Yet here we are. Dylan to my left and Dad to my right. And if the tension in the room wasn’t enough, Levi steps into the kitchen, studying the scene before he heads towards the hallway.