Page 90 of Fueled Hate

“How you doing over there?” Jett asks.

Giving him a pitiful excuse for a smile I reply, “Great.”

“Doesn’t sound like it. Maybe we can hang out if you want to take your mind off it or if you need a friend. I’ll be heading home in a few minutes too.”

“Thanks, but I’m just gonna head back to my place. I have a lot of coursework to catch up on.” And I should be doing it now instead of picking up an extra shift to make up for lost wages because I went out of town for a disastrous wedding.

“Okay. Just don’t forget to take a break every now and then.” Jett smiles, sliding me a glass of lemonade.

I’m gonna need something much stronger than lemonade to do the trick, but I attempt to enjoy it anyways as I watch the couple, glancing their way just long enough to see if they need anything. It’s not that I don’t want to see other people happy, I just want to be happy too.

The guy finally holds his hand up, waving for my attention as I head their way. After paying their ticket, they head out while I quickly clean up their table, watching as the other lingering customers finally do the same.

I walk to the back to clock out when I stumble a bit, catching myself on the doorframe.

“Hey, are you feeling okay?” Jett asks as he steps into the kitchen and punches out on the time clock.

“Yeah. It’s just been a long day,” I say, still clutching the doorframe as I attempt to steady myself.

“You don’t look so good,” Jett says, placing his hand on my forehead. “Come on. I’ll help you to your car.”

“I’m fine.” The room spins a bit as I feel Jett’s hand on my arm. It doesn’t belong there. Dylan’s does. I don’t feel safe or protected with anyone else’s touch. Only his. “I need to call Dylan.”

“He’s only gonna hurt you. I won’t,” Jett’s smooth voice says as we stumble through the empty lobby.

“I need to sit down.”

“I got you.” Jett’s arm loops under my legs as he lifts me.

I want him to put me down, but I can’t tell him. My mouth won’t say the words. Then I’m placed gently on a seat, an unwanted hand grips my thigh.

Dylan. I need Dylan.

“Stop saying his fucking name.”

Jett. I hear his harsh tone, but I don’t understand why he’s so angry.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

That’s not Jett. I think it’s Kyle, but my eyes won’t open. Everything feels strange. Sounds and voices distort until there’s nothing.

51

Dylan

Blinking, I can’t believe what I’m seeing. Her car was still parked at Big Tobe’s, but the place had closed hours ago. There were a million scenarios that went through my head as to why. But the ZR1 parked in front of her dad’s house was the last I’d expected to see there. How can she turn me away then run right back to him again?

Throwing my car door open, I make my way to the house. Hammering my fist against the door, I turn the knob, shouldering against it. What if she wasn’t here with him by her own doing? What if he fooled me and he’s eviler than I’d thought, and her dad is part of it? There has to be something that is keeping Frank in line with Kyle. My shoulder repeatedly slams against the door until it opens and I stumble a few steps, then regain my footing.

Kyle stands there, bare chested and groggy like he’s been sleeping. Rage sails through me as I lunge forward. Kyle anticipates my move pretty quickly for someone who just woke up, and he steps back, my fist barely making a connection.

“Dylan, stop!” Sadie’s screech pierces through me as I halt mid strike, looking to her where she stands. “It’s not what you’re thinking.”

Frank rushes down the hallway, looking to me and taking in the scene as he asks, “What the hell is going on out here?”

“I don’t know what the fuck to think.” I just know I don’t like anything I’m thinking.

“She was drugged,” Kyle says, dropping down on the couch as his head falls back.