Page 66 of Fueled Hate

“No. But your lies do.”

“It’s not the lies. It’s the money. Why does it bother you so bad that my family has money?”

“Because the richest person I know doesn’t have the word no in his vocabulary. He thinks he can take anything he pleases without having to ask permission or—”

“Accept consequences,” Dylan finishes my sentence. I’d accused him of that much after he’d made the stupid bet, but he didn’t know I wasn’t just ranting.

Moving to shut the door, Dylan’s hand stops it before it completely closes. “What did he do to you? Did he force himself on you?” His flat tone is unnerving because I know there’s unmeasurable anger beneath it. “I need to know.”

After witnessing the rage in Dylan at the track, I’m not sure what he’s capable of when it comes to Kyle. But from what I’ve experienced with Dylan, behind closed doors, I know he’d stop if I asked him to.

“He didn’t force me.”

“Tell me.”

“It happened to me, not you, so don’t worry about it. I’ve forgotten about it long ago.”

“No, you haven’t. It’s why your entire body trembles every time you’re uncovered and exposed in front of me. It’s the reason I take the time to make you feel safe and protected with me. To let you know that you can trust me to ask before I take.”

“He didn’t force me. He didn’t even want to have sex until after my mom died. I’d wanted to. I really had. I’d wanted to feel normal again. I knew the first time would hurt or be uncomfortable. And it was. I asked him to slow down but he wouldn’t.” Taking a deep breath, I remember the feeling afterwards more clearly than anything. “But the emptiness that followed was the worst, and it’s the same way I’ve felt every time since then. Used, dirty, expendable.”

Cautiously, Dylan takes a step forward, lifting his arms as he carefully embraces me. “Cherished, treasured, protected—that’s what you should feel.”

Bringing my arms up, I encircle them around his torso, my face against his chest, enjoying the tenderness he provides in the moment. But I can’t do this. I feel too many things with him, and most of them terrify me.

“I wanted to kill him. All I could see was Noah.” Dylan’s voice is strained as his arms pull me closer. “I still want to kill him.”

“Noah wouldn’t want that, and neither do I. It would make you just like him.”

“He keeps hurting people, and he’s not done yet.” Dylan presses a soft kiss on my forehead as a tear slips down my cheek.

“Please, don’t. You scared me tonight,” I confess as he tenses.

“I’m so sorry, Sadie. About everything.” His sincerity cuts straight through me because I want to forgive him, but that’s more dangerous than inviting him in.

“You should go.”

His arms tighten around me before slowly releasing. He reaches a finger up to brush it across my cheek. “Good night, Sadie.”

The declaration is like a punch in the gut because I don’t want him to go, but I can’t ask him to stay.

36

Dylan

I haven’t moved since I arrived hours ago. The sun is rising as I sit staring out the wall of windows. It’s serene, peaceful, but it doesn’t bring me solace. Nothing has since the moment I left her doorstep. Her words replayed in my head all night, envisioning the brutal way he took her then continued using her.

Taking a deep breath, I try to decide the best move to get her back. There’s no decision on my first move because it’s the class we’re in together, the one Kyle transferred to, the one I registered for based on the sole purpose of being near her.

Shoving off the couch, I walk to the kitchen. The penthouse has an ample coffee bar, gaudy and extravagant, yet I’d rather be making a cup from the simple drip coffee pot in Sadie’s kitchen.

Throwing my mug in the sink, it shatters against the metal as I lean forward, my hands gripping the counter. I’d let her think I was broke to see if she’d still want me. There had never been any part of me that questioned if she’d want me for the money. I’ve experienced those people my entire life. I can spot them a mile away. It was the many obstacles between us that I feared would cloud her judgment. I just wanted her to see me, not the money, not my brother, just me.

“What the hell was that?” A sleepy Bryce walks out of the bedroom, stretching as he looks at the rising sun. “Dude, sleep. Some of us need it.”

“I have class.”

Yep. He’s dumbfounded, and I get why. The course I set in motion is burning all around me, and I’m going to class.