Page 81 of Fueled Hate

“Dylan paid Oliver all of the money back.”

Dad looks as stunned as I’d felt when I heard the amount.

“I didn’t want him to pay it, and I’m paying him back every cent.”

“It wasn’t his place, but we’ll get him the money back. We knew Kyle’s reasoning; we don’t know Dylan’s.”

“I don’t understand anyone’s reasoning anymore.” The fact that my dad is defending Kyle twists my heart into even more knots. He couldn’t have known about the affair and what a vile human being Kyle really is. He’s still tied up in the smuggling, so maybe that’s the reason he’s defending him.

“You should’ve told me about the tuition. If you need help with the shop, financial or anything, let me help you. I promise my intentions are better than anyone else’s.”

“The shop is good. Just give some thought to your future with Kyle so you don’t regret your decision later on.” Dad goes back to the living room, sitting on the couch. “Are you staying the night?”

“No, I’m gonna head back to school.” The house is suffocating, and being here with Dad while I lie to him and he lies to me is too much. It’s all too much.

“Okay. Better get on the road before dark. Drive safe, Sadie.”

“I will.” Tears stream down my cheek as I grab my spare key and hurry out of the house, stopping as I reach for the handle of the Mustang. The car I’d clung to because of her. The relationship I’d hung onto because of her. The fucking backpack that I still carry around, because of her. She’s ruined it. All of it. She’s taken every pure, good memory I have of her and destroyed them. I’ve been grieving for her when she was slicing my chest open and ripping out my heart.

44

Dylan

Finally, the Mustang drives up to the old barn, jerking to a stop before Sadie bails out and fumbles with the combination lock.

Pushing the car door open, I get out of the car and head to the barn after she’s disappeared inside. I’d debated on parking in the front, letting her know I was here waiting, but I didn’t want her to run.

Following the path into the barn, I walk up the stairs, and, reaching the landing, I stop.

Sadie shoves the wooden shutter open, the evening light spilling into the barn. Hardly sparing me a glance, she spits over her shoulder, “Of course you’re here. My life isn’t fucked up enough. What do you have up your sleeve now?” She rifles through stuff in the corner of the barn that looks untouched for years. She tosses a shovel aside, then throws some metal tools in the same direction. They clang loudly against the floor as she continues her search. What she’s searching for she’ll never find in that pile.

“Can I help you find something over there?” I ask. I want to hear her voice, keep her attention on something other than the thoughts in her head.

“An ax.”

Okay. “What do you need an ax for?”

“None of your fucking business.”

“If it’s to chop me up into little pieces, it’s my business.”

She halts, slowly turning a murderous glare my way. “That would be too kind of me. You deserve far worse.”

If I went by her expression alone, the ax would indeed be aimed at me. But I know she’s intent on destroying something else. I’ll self-destruct soon enough, so she doesn’t need to worry about me.

Sadie locates the ax, grabbing it as she stomps over to the opening. Lifting the ax above her head, she brings it down as it digs into the ledge just at the corner of the window. Right where she’d said she saw the cardinal land.

Fuck, I want to reach for her, bring her into my arms so bad, but she needs to destroy it. Push the memory out of her mind. Something that brought her comfort, now brings her misery.

Quickly raising the ax over her head, she repeatedly brings it down as the blade disfigures the wood, chopping away a piece of the board little by little. She then moves over, swinging the ax against the wooden wall of the barn. There’s no relief coming to her because she’d need to raze the entire barn. Bulldozing the place she’d felt closest to her mother wouldn’t lessen the betrayal. But it might feel good as fuck to exorcise the demons.

The ax drops out of her hand as she stands, observing the damaged wood, breathing heavy from the strenuous activity. Her knees give out beneath her, and she falls to the floor. A gut-wrenching sob echoes through the barn, carrying out over the fields as she buries her face in her hands.

I can’t refrain any longer. I rush to her, falling to my knees, and engulf her in my arms. Her shoulders violently shake as she cries. Her arms snake around me as I sit back, pulling her onto my lap. I can’t get her close enough, hold her tight enough. She’s in agony, sobbing uncontrollably, surrounded by once happy memories that have now crumbled around her.

“I hate her. I hate her so much,” she sobs, burrowing her face against my chest in an effort to get closer. “You should’ve told me.”

“It wouldn’t have changed what she did.”