Page 50 of Fueled Hate

Halting at the name, I think I’ve heard him wrong. But I haven’t. Slowly turning, I watch him rub a hand over his face, covering a pained expression for a second before stepping closer to me.

“I’m here because of Noah.”

“What? How …” I stumble over my words, unable to figure out how Dylan would know Noah. “How do you know that name? Is this another one of your sick games?”

Dylan looks to the door leading into Willow’s room and I somehow know that he realizes it’s not my room. “He’s my brother.”

His brother. I believe it instantly because I feel the pain in his words as I relive the night in my mind, over and over. It was unreal when I’d heard the news of Noah’s accident. He remains in place as I step towards him. “I’m so sorry.”

“No. This is not a sympathy bid. I need your trust. I need you to know how important this is to me, the whole reason why I’m here.”

I can’t figure out why he’d get behind the wheel and race the same track his brother died on when I’m unable to even look at the parking lot my mom lost her life in without freaking out. It’s unfathomable to me why he’d done it, and I don’t get why he’s here, but it’s not pity I feel when I snake my arms around his waist and tuck my face against his chest. “I’m so sorry,” I repeat, unable to think of anything else to say as I cling to him.

His arms are tense as they wrap around me, his face dropping against my neck.

Shifting back, I look to him. “Why come here? Why race the same track as Noah’s accident?”

His body goes rigid as he releases me, and the half-step he takes away from me tells me I’m not going to like what I’m about to hear. “Because it wasn’t an accident.”

“Yes, it was.”

“Noah knew about the pills. He called me that night and told me all about it. The next day I can’t reach him and instead get news that there’d been some accident.”

“Dylan. No.” Erratically shaking my head, I turn away from him, rushing out of the living room. I move on automatic pilot into my bedroom to pace around the floor. It’s not Dylan I’m shutting out. It’s the insinuation. If it wasn’t an accident, he’s saying someone is responsible, and someone could very well be my dad. Only Dad hadn’t been anywhere around. “Kyle? Do you really think Kyle had something to do with Noah’s accident?”

“Stop calling it an accident. I know my brother. He wasn’t reckless, he always wore a seat belt and preached endlessly to do the same. There’s no way in hell he drove down that track without buckling his seat belt.”

“Maybe he was in a hurry and forgot.”

“No. I know my brother. Something else went down that night.”

“And you’ve just been using me to get to Kyle?” I knew his intentions weren’t exactly honorable, but this is about getting to Kyle. Why had I actually thought it was about me? Of course it wasn’t. It never is.

“Yes,” he replies. As I move to step past him, he catches my elbow, and holds me next to him. “That’s how it started. I have to know what happened to Noah, and I can’t do it without your help. And now you have the piece of me that no one here knows except for Bryce, so maybe I can have your trust. I just want to know the details about that night. If it was an accident, okay. I’ll go home. Leave everyone here to live their dismal lives. But I have to know what really happened. Why I don’t have my brother anymore. Who’s to blame for my mom crying herself to sleep every night. Who’s responsible for my baby sister being obsessed with cardinals because she thinks it’s a sign that our brother is nearby.”

That’s why his mom had told that story about cardinals, only she hadn’t told him, she’d told his little sister to comfort her … just as Dylan had for me even though it was connected to a horrendous memory for him. “How old is she, your sister?”

“Emma’s seven.”

“She’s only seven?” Levi flashes through my mind. He’s older but I understand the protectiveness Dylan feels, and I’m sure it’s even more intense trying to shield a young child from the harsh realities of the world.

“Yes. And she’s already experienced the sort of pain that I wouldn’t wish on anyone else.”

“I don’t know how I can help. And, what if my dad …”

“I’ve found nothing that leads me to believe your dad was directly involved in Noah’s death, even if he is wrapped up in the other bullshit.”

I ask the question I fear saying aloud. “What if he was?”

Dylan cautiously steps in front of me, looping his arm around my lower back, pulling me against him. “We’ll figure it out together. Can you trust me, please?”

“Yes.” I’ll try. “But you have to promise you won’t do anything to my brother or dad. And we figure this out together, no matter where the signs point.” I plead because I’m banking on everyone being innocent. Dylan knows his brother. I know my friends and family, and even my daft ex. He might be narcissistic, but Kyle’s not a cold-blooded killer. Proving that fact to Dylan will be challenging, but it’s necessary for everyone’s sakes.

“You have my word,” he concurs, and I want to believe him. I want to believe this will end well, or as well as can be expected given the circumstances that brought him here.

“I really am sorry about Noah. He was a really sweet guy.”

Dylan clears his throat, avoiding my eye as he pulls me to him. “Yes, he was.”