Page 54 of Fueled Hate

Shifting back, he releases me and my feet hit the floor. Moving away from me, he walks to the door. “Get dressed so we can go. Some of us want to know the truth and will accept it when it’s found.”

“It’d be a lot easier to accept if any of this made sense,” I mumble. All the people I care about flash through my mind—Dad, Levi, Parker, even Willow because she loves Parker. Dylan has changed my perception of everything in my life. Nothing appears as it was.

Stepping over to my dresser, I fish out a pair of jean shorts and a tank top, pulling them on before reaching over and grabbing a hair tie. I knot my hair in a messy bun before heading out of my bedroom. Dylan is propped up against the wall near the front door, his eyes on his phone until he notices me standing there, glaring at him. His irritated once-over trails down my body and back up. If I’m dealing with him, I’m going to be comfortable in my clothes at least. I’ve given up on the notion of relaxing because I won’t be able to until I know exactly what’s going on. From tangible proof, not just Dylan’s accusations.

“Let’s go.” I slide my phone and some cash into my pocket.

“After you.” Dylan opens the door, motioning me to walk across the threshold. It’s a little late for him to be gentlemanly now. I’ve seen him as his normal brute self for too long.

Speedily walking to the parking lot, I spot his STI and move to the passenger door. He unlocks the car and drops into the driver’s seat, starts the car up, and we speed out of the parking lot.

It’s gonna be a long day. Again.

Approximately five minutes later (mainly thanks to Dylan’s erratic driving), we arrive at what I’m guessing is our destination because he pulls to a stop in a parking spot of the hotel garage. He’d said we were going to see Bryce, but I’m wondering if Dylan is staying here.

“What are we doing here?”

“Bryce is staying here instead of at my place.”

“Oh.” So, Dylan does have a place. Why am I curious to see it? Maybe I’m hoping to find something that will help me figure out the walking contradiction.

Stepping into the lobby, it’s evident that this hotel is one of the most upscale places in Sunland. “So, y’all are a bunch of spoiled rich boys. Just like Kyle.”

He glowers at me, his eyes positively fuming. “Bryce is staying here, not me.”

Yet, something tells me Dylan isn’t hurting for money. Same goes for his friend I assume when Dylan presses the elevator button for the penthouse.

Bryce’s suite’s view of the town is breathtaking. I step to the window, looking over the streets and buildings I’ve lived in and frequented for the last year, yet it looks so different from here. It’s all about perspective.

“It’s magnificent, isn’t it?” Dylan mutters from behind me as I jump, lost in my thoughts.

“It was.” The jerk is even ruining the damn view.

Bryce strolls into the room, just as chipper and happy as I’ve seen him every other time. He looks shocked to see me, shoots a look back to Dylan, then smiles at me. “Sadie, I didn’t know you were dropping by.”

“I’m not here by choice,” I say, plopping down on the leather sofa that allows a good view out the floor-to-ceiling windows. Anything is better to look at than the person standing in the room with me.

“Yeah, me neither,” Bryce says, giving Dylan an irritated look.

“I told her about Noah,” Dylan says, remaining in his standing position across the room.

At least Bryce sprung for the biggest room in the hotel, allowing for plenty of space between Dylan and me. Too bad physical space isn’t helping to get him out of my mind; both versions of him, the one I experienced last night and the one I woke up to this morning, are firmly rooted in place.

“That’s a new turn of events,” Bryce says, giving Dylan a cunning smile. “I told you.”

“Fuck off,” Dylan mumbles.

“You’re even sweet to your best friend, I see.”

“You have no idea, Sadie,” Bryce says, exasperated, as he plops down on the sofa next to me. “He’s a handful all right, but I’m sure you know that.”

His shit-eating grin makes his underlying meaning more than evident. “Are you speaking from experience?”

“Oh, no. Not in the literal sense for me. He’s not my type … too intense and broody for me.”

“Same,” I concur, earning a chuckle from Bryce.

“Are y’all done yet?” Dylan asks, annoyance plain on his face as he stares between the two of us.