Page 65 of Fueled Hate

We arrived back at our apartment minutes ago, but it feels like an eternity. “I don’t understand.”

My eyes snap to the door as a heavy pounding sounds on the other side. It’s him. I don’t need to look to know who’s there. Willow must too because she asks, “Do you want him here?”

I. Don’t. Know.

“Open the door, Sadie,” Dylan’s stern voice commands.

“No. I don’t.” Standing from the couch, I move to the door and jerk it open. “Why? Why would you do that?”

“I’m sorry.”

“No. You don’t get to apologize. I asked how much so I could figure out a way to pay Oliver back, but you wouldn’t let me. Then you take it upon yourself to go see him and pay …?” I wasn’t sure how much to pay Oliver back, how did Dylan know? “How much was it?”

“I’m gonna go in my room,” Willow says from behind me. Dylan looks past me into the apartment. “Yell if you need anything, Sadie.”

“The money doesn’t matter,” Dylan mumbles after I hear Willow’s door click shut.

“Yes, it does. I didn’t want to owe Kyle anything, and I will not be in debt to you instead. Tell me the amount or I will go speak with Oliver myself, or ask Kyle.”

His teeth clench at Kyle’s name. He doesn’t want me anywhere near him. And I don’t want to deal with Kyle, but I won’t owe any of these assholes a dime, not for anything, especially my future.

“How much?”

“About thirty.”

“Thirty thousand dollars?”

Dylan nods, but he looks everywhere except at me.

“Where did you get the money?”

“Sadie …” Dylan grips the back of his neck with his hand, his head hanging down as he looks to the ground.

“Where? Did you get it from Bryce?”

“No,” he responds, still avoiding my eyes.

“Racing, gambling, drugs?” I ask, getting his attention on the last word. “How did you get that kind of money without finding a quick payday?”

“It’s not what you’re thinking.”

“Then tell me because what I’m thinking is worse than what they’re doing.”

Dylan leans forwards, his palms gripping the doorframe. “I didn’t want you to know until you knew me.”

“Know what? Just tell me. Is it something illegal? Did you get it from Bryce? Is he smuggling pills with all of you?”

“Bryce’s dad works for Forest Hollow Finance.”

“You got the money from Bryce.” I knew Bryce had more money than sense from his extravagant hotel room alone, but who has thirty thousand to just give to their best friend?

“My dad owns Forest Hollow.”

If Bryce’s dad works for the company, Dylan most definitely comes from a family with even deeper pockets. Thirty thousand is probably pocket change to him. A far cry from the guy sleeping in a run-down apartment with only a mattress and a couch. He’d tricked me into feeling sorry for him, thinking he was different than Kyle, but he’s the same. They take when and what they please.

“Let me guess … Daddy bought you a foolishly expensive car on your sixteenth birthday, but it got old fast. So, you got a brand-new shiny one on the first day of your senior year of high school, but it was a shade too light, so you insisted on a different one. After all, nothing will ever be good enough for a jackass who can get anything he pleases.”

“I’m not him. I told you—where I live has nothing to do with who I am. Where I’m from, how much money my family has, none of it defines who I am.”