Page 18 of Fueled Fury

“Where did you go that night?” I ask, not needing to specify which night. He knows the moment he destroyed everything we’d built between us.

“To speak with my uncle.” His tone is strained but I don’t think it’s from lying, it’s from telling the truth about why he chose to obliterate what we had. Even though we were shaky from the start, I thought we were solid enough (and gaining strength) until he crushed the foundation.

“Why?”

“For help.”

“Your brother needed help. I needed your help. What could’ve been so important that it couldn’t wait while your brother’s life hung in the balance?”

Austin tightens his arm around me as he says, “My life.”

Selfishis the first word that comes to mind. Eli was bleeding out and Austin had to talk with his uncle, concerned with only himself. “Eli always said you’ve only cared about yourself. Even after you broke his arm, you just laughed at his pain while he cried.”

“I wasn’t the one laughing, he was.”

“Why would your brother laugh after you broke his arm?” I ask slowly, trying to make even a morsel of sense out of what Austin is saying.

“I didn’t break it. He did. Intentionally. Then laughed while I stood there trying to figure out what the fuck he was up to.” Austin pauses before continuing, hesitation in his voice which isn’t something I’ve heard many times. “I finally figured it out later that day when he got home from the hospital—with you.”

“He wouldn’t break his own arm on purpose.” I close my eyes, remembering how Eli called me from the hospital, told me he was there because of Austin, and then recounted all the sick details. He said that Austin did it, that Austin stood by laughing while preventing him from getting help for hours to prolong his suffering. “Why would he do that?”

“Because of you.” Austin lets out a frustrated breath as he continues, “After you bandaged up my hand, I started hanging around y’all, wanting to be near you. He picked up on it. And he noticed that you didn’t mind me being around. But he did. He wanted me out of the way and to have you all to himself.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I knew you wouldn’t have believed me then. You still wouldn’t believe me if I told you everything now.”

Everything? What more could there possibly be? “You could’ve tried … if that’s what really happened. But you never tried, not then and not now. Instead, you just ran back to FSU and pretended like nothing ever happened—with your brother and with us.”

“To protect you. I left for you.”

“You left for yourself.” My mind spins going over all the details that I can recall of that night and the years before. None of it makes sense. Austin is a lot of things, but a liar isn’t one of them. But I can’t believe him because that would make Eli the fraud. “And you should’ve stayed away.”

“I already told you … I tried, but I can’t.”

“You’ll leave again.”

He doesn’t respond with words. Instead, he buries his face against my neck, and his soft lips feather a tender kiss on my skin.

It’s for the best that he remains silent because words don’t mean shit if the person says them and then does the opposite. I shouldn’t have expected anything different; I’ve known since childhood that proclamations of love don’t mean shit if they aren’t backed up by actions. I’ve listened to my mom declare her love for me in one breath while cutting me down in the next over and over my whole life. I watched my dad leave, favoring the track and a trophy over me, a person he supposedly loves. The feeling of winning has to be the greatest feeling in the world—why else would he sacrifice everything for it? Capturing that moment, that sensation, that’s why I have to win the race. I need that glorious, conquering moment to overshadow all the other bullshit in my world. Then, maybe I can walk away and not look back.

Just as he did. Just as they all do.