Page 27 of Fueled Hate

“Speak for yourself.”

“I can’t let you do this. Your head is royally fucked up. I knew it last night, and you have more than confirmed it today.”

“I told you I have to do this. For Noah, for Emma, and for my mom.”

“None of them would want you to risk it for their sake.”

“It’s not for their sake, it’s for the next safe driver who loves the sport. Who wants to have a good time—who just wants to drive or maybe make a little money on the side—but gets in the lane next to Kyle, a prick who thinks a race is worth more than a man’s life. So not only does he not cross the finish line, but he also doesn’t go home.”

Bryce curses under his breath as he steps in front of me. “One condition.”

“Name it.”

“You cross the finish line one way or another every time. Handing Kyle the same fate won’t bring Noah back, but it will bury you deeper.”

“I won’t. In the end, it’ll be him who decides if he lives or dies.”

“Dylan—”

“I don’t want him dead, so stop. I want him alive because death would be too easy for him. He needs to suffer for every life he’s taken. And that’s what I’m here to do. Destroying his life and everything he cares about from the inside out.”

“That does sound fun. He’s lost his title and his girl, so what’s your next move?”

“She’s not his girl.” My skin crawls as I think of him near her, weaseling his way back into her life.

“If I wasn’t mistaken, I’d say that was more about you having her and less about him losing her.”

My silence answers his question, but it only adds to mine.

“On that note, I’d suggest you sort through that before you get back on the track, because she won’t be waiting for you at the finish line, not once she finds out the truth about everything.”

“I know that.” But she needs to know. And I need her as long as I can hold onto her. Even if it’s just temporary, I have to have her; show her she was never his, but always will be mine.

17

Sadie

Waking up in my own bed should make Sunday morning better, but it doesn’t. I’d managed to see my dad all of five minutes last night after he rolled in from working late and pretty much went straight to bed, and my brother has yet to come home. If Mom were still alive, he’d be expected back by curfew or there’d be hell to pay. Dad seems to have given up, or maybe he’s just glad Levi is getting back to playing football.

Throwing the comforter off of my legs, I slip on a pair of pajama bottoms and walk out to the kitchen. I’m happy to see my dad making his cup of coffee as he turns to wave good morning to me.

I return his greeting and zombie-shuffle my way over to the coffee pot. Dad and I always have seen eye to eye about no talking before coffee. Mom was the morning person, bright and chipper and happy. I always thought it was annoying to find her so cheery and loud in the kitchen so early every single morning, until the kitchen was empty and eerily silent. That was far worse.

It’s probably ten minutes before my dad speaks. “So, you heading back to school in a few?”

“Yeah. I need to get back, but I was hoping to see Levi before I left. Where’d he stay last night?”

“He’s not here?” Dad says, peeking out the kitchen window in the direction of where Levi’s truck is usually parked. “Hm. He did mention staying at a friend’s house.”

“Which friend?”

Dad raises his coffee, taking a sip as he shrugs. “Clay, or Colton’s maybe. I can’t remember.”

Um. Is he serious? Yes, Levi is eighteen. A senior in high school, but Dad didn’t even know Levi hadn’t come home last night and barely has a clue on where to start looking for him this morning. “Don’t you think we should check on him and make sure he’s okay?”

“I’m sure he’s fine. He’s been busy with school and practice.”

“Dad,” I utter, sucking in what should be a calming breath but it’s not helping. “We need to make sure he’s all right.”