Page 84 of Fueled Hate

I debate messaging him so I’m not lost and wandering around all day, but I’m bound to run into someone eventually. Stepping into the kitchen, I spot the cook from breakfast at it again, whipping up a gourmet meal that makes my mouth water even though my stomach churns with unease.

Greeting him with a smile, I glance around the kitchen. “Is Dylan around here?”

“No, miss. I haven’t seen him since breakfast.”

Yeah. Me neither. His mom insisted I join all the ladies at the beauty salon to get my hair styled for the wedding, and I hadn’t seen him since we returned. The majority of the time, I chatted with Emma. Well, she did most of the talking, but I loved every moment of it.

I continue my search through the house and make my way to the garage. I’d always thought Kyle’s home was massive, but it could fit inside the Atwood’s garage. I step outside, exiting from the side door, and as I walk around the back of the house, I see the last-minute wedding preparations being done. The grounds are already gorgeous, so it was easy for Dylan’s aunt to transform the area into a beautiful and elegant spot for her small wedding.

“Sadie, sweetheart,”—Dylan’s dad greets me with a warm smile as he holds his arms out—“you look stunning.”

“Thanks, Mr. Atwood,” I reply, to which I get a serious look. “Sorry. Bill.” I laugh, recalling him requesting that I call him by his first name so he doesn’t feel so old. “Have you seen Dylan around?”

“No, I haven’t,” he replies, waving Dylan’s mom over as she heads our way.

“Oh, Sadie, that dress is gorgeous.” Judy lightly clasps my shoulder as she smiles.

I reply with a nervous thanks as I smooth my palms down the soft satin of the maroon minidress. The two wonderful people in front of me have gone out of their way to make me feel welcome, but I still feel a little odd being here … with his family.

“Well, we’ll find him.” Bill motions for me to follow him into the house. We walk down a long hallway as he glances in a few rooms.

“This study was his favorite hideout as a child. He was either in here or in the garage.” Bill shoves the door open, waving inside the room. “Yep. He’s hiding in here. Some things never change.”

Some things never change.

Glancing into the room, I spot Dylan sitting in an armchair, staring out the window. The scene breaks my heart as I recognize the anguish in his posture.

Bill retreats, heading back outside as I step inside the tension-filled study and sit in the chair across from Dylan.

“I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

He leans back, turning up a bottle of whiskey, taking a generous swig. “You found me.” His words are a little slurred, but other than that it’s flat, monotone Dylan.

Precisely what I was scared of.

Before I can respond, Bryce saunters into the room. “Hey, lovely doves.”

Dylan doesn’t respond to him either, and sadly, it makes me feel a little better thinking it’s not only me he’s shutting out. I don’t want him to be hurting and keeping everyone at arm’s length.

“Maybe he’ll talk to you because he won’t talk to me.” I stand, offering the chair to Bryce as I leave the room. Downstairs, I return to the ceremony area where I ask what I can help with. At least this way I’ll contribute something, because I’ve felt nothing but useless since arriving.

* * *

The wedding reception is in full swing. The guests chatting, dancing, and joyfully celebrating as Edita and her new husband spin around the dance floor. Emma is in middle of the action, dancing with two other kids, enjoying every moment. I’ve barely gotten to know her, but I completely get why she has Dylan wrapped around her finger, I’m sure Noah had been too.

Looking over my shoulder, I spot Dylan reclined in the chair, his eyes on the table where his fingers tap in a steady motion. He hasn’t said more than two words to me since the wedding began and I have a feeling the rest of the trip will be the same.

Bryce dances over, sitting in the chair beside me. “There’s a wedding going on, in case you two forgot.”

Neither of us reply as Bryce gawks between the two of us. “Y’all need a drink.”

“Yes, I do.” Dylan walks off, stepping up to the open bar where he is no doubt ordering another drink that he doesn’t need. He’d sobered up a bit, but in the last hour, it seems like he’s trying to cancel out reality from the looks of him leaning against the bar and downing the shot glass.

“You don’t look like you’re having fun,” Bryce says, eyeing Dylan. “Just give him some time. He’s trying to sort through his head.”

Focusing on the dance floor, I watch as Bill and Judy spin around, looking joyful and in love. And I automatically wonder if it’s real or if they are struggling beneath the surface.

“Enough of this.” Bryce stands, holding his hand out to me. “Let’s dance.”