Page 48 of Fueled Hate

I can’t screw this up. Patience. I need to allow her to invite me along the way, not run full steam ahead as I always have the urge to do with her.

Grabbing the padlock on the door, she spins the numbers into a combination and it unlatches. She removes it then pushes the door open just enough for us to walk through. The flashlight from her phone is the only light we have as we walk to the corner of the barn before climbing a steep staircase along the wall that leads to a second-floor loft that runs the length of the barn. Sadie walks to the front of the barn, reaches over, and shoves a wooden door that swings open. Turning her flashlight off, my eyes slowly adjust to the darkness as a moonlit field comes into view as far as the eye can see.

Sitting on the dusty wooden floor, Sadie tucks her knees to her chest, eyes focused on the field as I sit next to her. My arm rests flush against hers, and I feel her slowly relaxing with every soft breath she exhales.

“My mom would bring Levi and me here when she’d come out to help our grandparents after my grandma got sick. Mom would keep up the books because my grandpa didn’t trust anyone else to do it. I always wanted to help Grandpa too, but I usually ended up getting in the way, so he’d yell and tell me to leave the fieldwork to the men, which included Levi even though he was younger than me. It’d make me so mad because I thought, How hard could it be to grow a Christmas tree?

“That’s why I always helped my dad at the shop—he never told me I couldn’t do something because I was a girl. Grandpa didn’t feel the same, and he hated my dad for some reason. I can’t remember ever seeing them in the same room together when they weren’t at each other’s throats. But one day, I tried my best to show Grandpa that I could help out. I chopped down an entire row of trees, thinking I really was proving my worth. They weren’t ready, too small. That’s the reason I’d picked that row. The trees were only about three feet tall, so I figured I’d actually have a chance to chop them down, and I did.

“Grandpa was furious, though; ranting and raving as my mom grabbed me and drove us away on the Gator. She brought me here. When I told her I’d just wanted to help, she told me she had another job that was really important. She asked me to watch over the trees and see where the birds landed in case they had a nest in the tree. It was years later when I realized she’d assigned the task so I’d feel like I was doing something important.

“I’d sit here, watching for hours at times, but I didn’t mind. My mom knew where to find me, and I had no doubt she’d come get me when it was time to go home. She’d never forget I was here and leave me behind.

“So, that’s what I do. I sit here, watching where the birds land because my mom knows I’m here … and I can pretend that she’s gonna come get me soon when it’s time to go back home.” Her voice breaks with the pain of wanting her mother, and that pain is elevated in the one place where she can pretend her mom isn’t gone.

The only thing I want to say is I understand—the ache, the void—the pain left behind when a vital component in your world is ripped away. But I can’t bring myself to say his name. To admit to her that Noah is the reason I’m here. The reason I can’t promise her I won’t leave her in more pain when I find out who’s responsible for his death.

Lifting my arm, I drape it over her shoulder, holding her against me as her chin drops to rest on her knee. She looks more vulnerable than I’ve ever seen her before. And I want to ease her pain. I know that isn’t possible, but I have to try. I can’t do nothing. “She knows you’re here, Sadie.”

“I hope so.” Her voice is soft as she keeps her chin on her knee, her eyes looking out to the darkness.

“Have you seen any cardinals?”

Her head swiftly lifts, her eyes studying me, causing me to worry I’m about to say the wrong thing as she asks, “Why would you ask that?”

Recalling the conversation my mom had with Emma at Noah’s burial service, I take a cue to pass on a message. True or not, Emma had needed comfort that her big brother was still with her and Sadie seems like she needs that same reassurance about her mom. “Because my mom said she’s always heard that cardinals appear when angels are nearby. And I’m sure your angel is around here.”

She blinks, staring at me like I’m the crazy person although I think she looks like the one about to go over the edge of sanity. “I didn’t tell anyone about it.”

“About what?”

“Two weeks after my mom died, there was a senior class assembly at school. It was all about the big events of the school year like prom and graduation … every event I was going to have to experience without her. I walked out of school and drove straight here, sat here crying, watching over the field until something red caught my attention in the corner of my eye. A cardinal was perched right there.” Sadie points to the corner of the opening, her eyes glued to the spot. “So, I sat here watching as it stayed perched there for what felt like an eternity, but it was probably mere minutes. Red was my mom’s favorite color.”

“She knows you’re here.” Hugging Sadie tighter against me, I lean over, pressing my lips to her forehead as my eyes snap shut.

“I hope so,” she whispers on a soft sob.

Shifting backwards, I swing my left leg on the other side of her so she’s between my legs, her back pressed against my chest as I wrap my arms around her small frame. Her head falls back against my chest, and I tuck my face against her neck, breathing her in. How am I ever gonna let this exquisite beauty go?

27

Sadie

We’ve been seated in the same position for about twenty minutes, my back against his chest, his arms enveloping me, giving me a sense of security, comfort. It might very well be a false sense, but it feels good right now as we sit surrounded by darkness, only the sound of crickets breaking the silence until I finally get up the nerve to speak. “We should probably go pick up your car so we can get back to Sunland.”

Surprisingly agreeable, he stands, helps me up, then stretches before we head back down the staircase towards my car. I can’t help but think how strange it is that nothing feels unnatural about this. It had felt comfortable, almost cleansing, to show him the one place I feel close to my mom. The drive back to my dad’s is the same—comfortable. A tranquil quiet rather than tension filled but leave it to Dylan to ruin the little progress we’ve made.

“Let’s go drop your car off at your dad’s, then we’ll hit the road,” Dylan says. There it is. The authoritative, commanding tone of the jerk I’m used to.

The intoxicating fog is slowly lifting from my mind. He can’t be serious. “What?”

“You’re riding back with me.”

“No. I need my car. You know … for driving to work and school.”

“I’ll drive you. I don’t mind.”

Don’t mind? He should since it’s an idiotic idea. “But I do.”