Page 12 of Fueled Hate

No. He was never like that when she was alive, but it doesn’t take a genius to figure out she would be less than thrilled with some of the stunts Kyle has pulled over the last year.

“I never met your mom, but from what I know, she would want you to be happy.” Willow leans forward, embracing me in a tight hug.

“She would’ve loved you,” I whisper as my arms tighten around Willow. And it’s the truth. My mom would’ve loved Willow immensely, just as I do.

“I hope so.” Willow releases me and leans back, her hand gripping my arm. “Are you gonna be okay?”

“Yes. I just need to shower and get to bed.”

“Same.” Willow smiles as she stands from the couch and walks to her door. Before she shuts it, she turns to me. “If you need anything, come get me, or yell. Either way, I’m here.”

“Thanks,” I give her a sincere smile. One thing is certain—I wouldn’t have made it through the last year without Willow. Now, I just need to find a way to get back to me. Not the old version Kyle is hell-bent on reviving, but someone who can at least find a few moments to be happy every day. I’m still going through the motions each day, very little feels meaningful, but my mom wouldn’t want me to be miserable. I know this. And I can keep telling myself the same thing over and over, but at the end of the day, saying it and feeling it are two very different things.

7

Dylan

Standing in the small kitchen, I grab two mugs out of the cabinet, slamming the door shut as I see Bryce stir on the sofa. Pouring myself a cup, I leave the other on the counter and walk to the living room area. Shoving Bryce’s feet to the side, I plop down on the sofa. “Good morning.”

He groans dramatically, sitting up to give me a grumpy look.

“Sleep well?” I laugh, watching as he falls against the back of the sofa.

“I would’ve slept better in my car,” Bryce grumbles. After a beat, he stands to stretch before making his way to the kitchen. “Sure is a nice place you have here.”

“Thanks,” I reply to his sarcastic comment. The place isn’t much but it’s not like I’ve had time to worry about it.

Bryce returns to the sofa, sitting next to me as he sips his mug of coffee. “You know I was joking, right? I know you’re far gone, but this is not a suitable place.”

“It’s decent.”

“No. It really isn’t. I don’t understand why you insist on being miserable.”

“I’m not. This place is fine. Rent is cheap, and it’s close to the campus.”

“Okay. Well, are you planning on putting more in it than a mattress and a couch, or is this some kind of Survivor challenge?”

“I don’t need anything else. I need a place to sleep and a coffee pot.”

“Are you serious?” Bryce shakes his head not waiting on a response.

“No one said you had to stay here.”

“Oh, I’m not. It was late and you caught me at a weak moment last night when I felt sorry for your ass but …” Bryce takes a look over the small apartment. “I don’t feel sorry for you anymore. I’ll be over at the hotel, enjoying room service and a spa, while you rough it here with your lumpy couch.”

“Whatever makes you happy.” I raise my mug to him.

“Going home to sleep in my own bed would make me happiest.”

“No one’s stopping you.”

“Yeah, my moral compass is.”

It’s my turn to laugh. “‘Moral compass’ … if you have one, it’s pointed straight to hell, or at least jail time.”

“True, but I do have a separate loyalty one, so let’s get this shitshow started. It’s getting boring again. What’s on the agenda for this morning?”

“I have a class to get to.”