by A. J. Logan
Fucking lunatic. “What are you talking about? You have me pinned up against my car on the side of the damn road after I just so happen to have another flat tire. But I’m in your way?”
“I finally figured it out. What turns you on. What gets under your skin,” he says, leaning forward to brush his lips against mine. “You need the hurt, the pain. You want someone who treats you like shit. Someone who bails on you, humiliates you. Why is that, Sadie? Why do you take it and keep going back for more? Are you going to keep coming back for more when I do it?”
“No. You don’t know anything about me, and you need to get the fuck away from me now.”
He lets out a devilish chuckle as he says, “I know a lot more than you think, but you’ll figure that out soon enough.”
I don’t recognize any part of the charming guy who brought me coffee. The kind, out-of-place stranger who offered to help me with my tire in the rain. I don’t recognize any part of that person. Even if I didn’t know Dylan well, I thought there could’ve been something good or different inside him. “I thought you were different too, but you’re not. You’re just another spoiled, little rich bitch who thinks he can take anything and anyone he pleases without having to ask permission or accept consequences. But let me make one thing clear: I’m not up for grabs. I’m not following through on some asinine bet that I never agreed to … and if you don’t get your fucking hands off me right now, I’ll show you exactly how I’ll get you out of my way.”
His amusement becomes more apparent. “You seem uptight.” He rubs his fingertips along the bare skin of my arm. “I’d bet it’s because he’s selfish in every way, taking just as he pleases. I’d bet you don’t know what it feels like to be worshipped, brought to the peak of pleasure and savored all the way back down. Has he ever made you come, Sadie, or does he get his and leave you to take care of yourself?”
Heat floods my cheeks as my anger and embarrassment soar. Lifting my hand, I swing, connecting with his cheek.
He doesn’t move, not even a flinch. His smirk grows. “Answers that question loud and clear.”
“You’re worse than he is.” The words leave my mouth before I can think about it but I feel every bit of it to be true. Kyle is an egotistical dickhead, but Dylan is a freakin’ lunatic. The best thing I can do is forget about both of them.
The smug look fades, quickly replaced by anger as he takes a deliberate step back. His eyes are still on me as he finally removes his hands and body from mine, walking back to his car without another word. Measuredly, he opens the door, drops inside, and speeds off.
What. The. Hell. Just. Happened? I stay pressed against the car, like he’d left me. My head spins, trying to wrap around the fact that Dylan isn’t any better than the others. At least he revealed his true self before it was too late. I’m not sure what I’d wanted to happen between us, but I was very wrong about him. And he’s dead wrong about one thing … I don’t want any of this. I’m not even supposed to be here. My plan had been to attend school in New York, far away from Texas and everything here. Kyle had even said he’d go with me to the East Coast.
Of course, that was before everything changed between us, before I changed. That’s when I believed in happy endings. When I wanted to go to school for photography instead of psychology. Before photography felt too trivial and I decided to focus on helping others deal with the trauma of losing loved ones. I really just wanted to figure out how to help those around me, my dad and my brother, and even myself, cope with the loss. But is that something that can really be taught in a classroom?
I still don’t know if I’ll ever be able to help any of us, but I knew I had to stay close. Being an hour away from home in case my dad or Levi needs me was the best choice. Kyle was more than happy to stay in Texas, and I thought I would be too. Now, I’m not sure if I made the right decision. Yes. Yes, I did. I want to be near my family. Even if we’re broken, we’re all we have left. I want things to go back to how they were before, when I believed there was good in the world. Before I realized that one evil person could destroy complete strangers in the blink of an eye. I hadn’t realized just how delicate it was.
One moment.
One second.
One decision.
That’s all it took for someone to pull the trigger, ripping my mom away from me and destroying my fragile reality. Maybe that’s my problem … I’m waiting for that next moment. The one that implodes my life as I know. Again. It can’t be any worse than last time, though. How do you get back on track when the most important piece of the puzzle is missing?
An old Ford truck pulls to a stop behind mine and a lady hops out, giving me a questioning look.
Oh, don’t mind me … just losing my mind, dealing with crazies, and questioning the very thread that holds the fabric of my universe together. Wonder if they teach any of that in a classroom. Hopefully so because I have no clue about any of it.
“Car trouble?” she says, looking to the flat.
“Something like that,” I say pushing off the Mustang. “I’m good though, but thanks for stopping.”
“Sure thing.” She waves before getting back in her truck and leaving.
How come it couldn’t have been that easy with Dylan? All he had to do was trust that I could take care of my own tire and leave me alone. It’s still lingering—the thought that he may have done something to sabotage the tire, but why? He knows I’m capable of changing it. Even when he’s not here, he’s still driving me mad.
I get started on changing out the tire—that I know how to fix. Everything else can and will have to wait.
As I lift the flat tire into the trunk, I examine the valve stem, searching for any signs of tampering, but it looks fine. Am I really losing my mind, or is there something else going on?
16
Dylan
Nothing, and I mean nothing, pisses me off more than being compared to that sorry excuse for a human being. I knew the move would be risky, but I’m fed up with all of it. Parker made it clear that Sadie dumped Kyle’s sorry ass last night, but I’m not convinced she won’t go back for more. That, I don’t want to watch.
And it’s my fault I’m still here to watch it. This could’ve been all over last night, but I screwed up, because of her.
Gripping the steering wheel, I press the accelerator, speeding down the road, the scenery passing in a blur. I should let off, slow down, but something makes me want to go faster. How many times have I sat behind the wheel, driving like a reckless maniac, but nothing’s gone wrong? How many times did Noah get behind the wheel, doing the same reckless antics … never losing control, never a misstep because he knew his limit, his car’s limit, and when to let off the gas. He was the careful one, not me, so why isn’t he here instead?
Ringing sounds through the speakers of the car, glancing to the screen on the dashboard, I see it’s my mom calling. Every muscle in my body says don’t answer it. Ignore it. But the last time I didn’t answer, Dad said she started panicking, worried something had happened to me.
It should’ve been me.
Reluctantly, I let off the gas, the car only slightly slowing as I head to the only place I can think to go right now. “Hello?”
“Hey, Dill Pickle!” my little sister’s voice sounds through the speakers, causing my foot to tap the brake, slowing the car.
“Hey, Emma Bug,” I respond with the nickname that her other big brother gave her when she was a baby. Once she was old enough to be embarrassed, she decided to give us our own. Noah Fart didn’t appreciate his nickname, but I didn’t mind mine.
“Guess what Mom told me?” Her giddy voice continues before she gives me a chance to guess. “She told me that Elsa is in Florida, close to you. She said we’re coming to visit you and Minnie soon.”
Damn it. I’m nowhere near that oversized mouse, but I’ll gladly take some time to bring her to meet the rodent if that will make her happy. “That sounds fun. Is Mom there?”
“Yeah. She’s getting ready for A
unt Edita’s party, so she told me I could call you while I wait on her. Are you coming to the party?”
“No, I’m too far away to make it there in time.”
“Just take the plane.”
That would be an option, but it would bring up too many questions. “I’ll try to visit soon.”
“Okay. Can you bring Mom a present?”
“Sure. Do you want a present too?”
“No.” Her voice trails off, and I have a sinking feeling of what she’s about to say. “I just want Mom to feel better.”
I already know the answer but I have to ask. “Has Mom been sick?”
“No. She said she had allergies but she keeps crying for Noah. I still cry for him too, when Mom isn’t here.”
I swallow down my own grief, hating how much my little sister is still struggling. I hate that she’s holding in her own grief so as not to upset Mom. “I’ll be home as soon as I can. And I’m bringing both of y’all ginormous presents.”
“Yay!” she says, perking up. I hear my mom in the background, telling Emma it’s time for them to head to the wedding shower. “Gotta go. Bye, love you.”
“I love you too.”
Emma yells that she’s going to get in the car as the line goes silent. Why is the silence the hardest?
My hand aches as I grip the steering wheel, my eyes flitting to the shiny skin trailing over my knuckles and hand. Scars all reminiscent of the moment when I disconnected the call that told me my brother was dead.
Driving down the dirt road leading to the Dome, I don’t slow as I round the corner, the car sliding from the dirt onto the beaten pavement. Hitting the gas, the car drifts slightly before correcting as I accelerate down the runway. Jerking the wheel slightly to the left, I hit the hole in the broken pavement, waiting to roll. Instead, the car spins out, coming to an abrupt stop beside the track, dirt filling the air in a cloud around the Subaru.
Bailing out, I slam the door shut, pounding my fists against the roof.
“What the hell was that about?” Bryce asks from behind me.
“Why are you here?” I lower my head, fists pressed against the roof of the car.
“Because I knew you would be. You can’t drive this track and pretend like it didn’t get in your head. Now tell me, what was that supposed to prove?”
“It wasn’t an accident.” The words burn as I say them. I wanted to find out differently. I wanted to prove my crazy theory wrong, but I’m not wrong.
“Yes, it was,” Bryce says bluntly.
Raising my hands, I slam them against the roof before shoving off the car and turning to face my best friend. “No. It wasn’t. I’ve barreled down the track, hitting that pothole every which way, and not once did my car flip and roll across the field. It was not an accident.”
“Dylan …”
“Noah wasn’t the risk-taker. He played the races safe. He focused. He kept his eyes on the prize. He made sure he crossed the finish line even if he didn’t come in first. And you know damn well that there’s no way he got behind the wheel and didn’t have his seat belt hooked.”
“The report said—”
“The report said exactly what Kyle said, but that’s not what happened.”
“I get it. You need someone to blame, but we don’t know what happened that night. No one knows. Even the few witnesses present said the track was so dark they couldn’t tell what went on. Maybe he forgot to latch it. Maybe the seat belt was faulty. Or maybe he was just ejected from the car because of the speed.”
“You don’t believe any of that shit any more than I do. We both knew him. He preached to us about wearing a fucking seat belt when we were just driving in a parking lot. Someone didn’t want him walking away from that race, and I will find out who.”
“We are here for Noah. To win his race, defeat his opponent in his honor. We aren’t here to avenge his death and get yourself killed in the process.”
“Speak for yourself.”
“I can’t let you do this. Your head is royally fucked up. I knew it last night, and you have more than confirmed it today.”
“I told you I have to do this. For Noah, for Emma, and for my mom.”
“None of them would want you to risk it for their sake.”
“It’s not for their sake, it’s for the next safe driver who loves the sport. Who wants to have a good time—who just wants to drive or maybe make a little money on the side—but gets in the lane next to Kyle, a prick who thinks a race is worth more than a man’s life. So not only does he not cross the finish line, but he also doesn’t go home.”
Bryce curses under his breath as he steps in front of me. “One condition.”
“Name it.”
“You cross the finish line one way or another every time. Handing Kyle the same fate won’t bring Noah back, but it will bury you deeper.”
“I won’t. In the end, it’ll be him who decides if he lives or dies.”
“Dylan—”
“I don’t want him dead, so stop. I want him alive because death would be too easy for him. He needs to suffer for every life he’s taken. And that’s what I’m here to do. Destroying his life and everything he cares about from the inside out.”
“That does sound fun. He’s lost his title and his girl, so what’s your next move?”
“She’s not his girl.” My skin crawls as I think of him near her, weaseling his way back into her life.
“If I wasn’t mistaken, I’d say that was more about you having her and less about him losing her.”
My silence answers his question, but it only adds to mine.
“On that note, I’d suggest you sort through that before you get back on the track, because she won’t be waiting for you at the finish line, not once she finds out the truth about everything.”
“I know that.” But she needs to know. And I need her as long as I can hold onto her. Even if it’s just temporary, I have to have her; show her she was never his, but always will be mine.
17
Sadie
Waking up in my own bed should make Sunday morning better, but it doesn’t. I’d managed to see my dad all of five minutes last night after he rolled in from working late and pretty much went straight to bed, and my brother has yet to come home. If Mom were still alive, he’d be expected back by curfew or there’d be hell to pay. Dad seems to have given up, or maybe he’s just glad Levi is getting back to playing football.
Throwing the comforter off of my legs, I slip on a pair of pajama bottoms and walk out to the kitchen. I’m happy to see my dad making his cup of coffee as he turns to wave good morning to me.
I return his greeting and zombie-shuffle my way over to the coffee pot. Dad and I always have seen eye to eye about no talking before coffee. Mom was the morning person, bright and chipper and happy. I always thought it was annoying to find her so cheery and loud in the kitchen so early every single morning, until the kitchen was empty and eerily silent. That was far worse.
It’s probably ten minutes before my dad speaks. “So, you heading back to school in a few?”
“Yeah. I need to get back, but I was hoping to see Levi before I left. Where’d he stay last night?”
“He’s not here?” Dad says, peeking out the kitchen window in the direction of where Levi’s truck is usually parked. “Hm. He did mention staying at a friend’s house.”
“Which friend?”
Dad raises his coffee, taking a sip as he shrugs. “Clay, or Colton’s maybe. I can’t remember.”
Um. Is he serious? Yes, Levi is eighteen. A senior in high school, but Dad didn’t even know Levi hadn’t come home last night and barely has a clue on where to start looking for him this morning. “Don’t you think we should check on him and make sure he’s okay?”
“I’m sure he’s fine. He’s been busy with school and practice.”
“Dad,” I utter, sucking in what should be a calming breath but it’s not helping. “We need to make sure he’s all right.”
“I’ll give
him a call, but he’s old enough to fend for himself, so I don’t keep tabs on his every move.”
“Mom would’ve.” I regret the words before they’re out, but it’s the honest truth. Mom would’ve made sure Levi was keeping up with school, attending practice, and making it safely home, or at least know for certain whose house he was sleeping at.
“Yeah. She would’ve,” Dad says so low I can barely make out his words, though I can certainly make out the pain.
“Dad, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”
“It’s fine, Sadie. I need to get to the shop.” He pauses in the kitchen doorway, hesitating as he looks back to me. “I know I’ll never measure up to the parent she was, but I’m doing the best I can.” He doesn’t wait for a response before leaving me alone in the deafeningly silent kitchen.
“I know. I’m doing the best I can too,” I whisper, guilt eating away at my soul. Grabbing my phone, I dial Levi’s number only to get his voice mail, so I disconnect the call and send him a text.
Me: I’m at the house. Where are you? Wanted to see you before I headed back to school.
I stare at the phone, not receiving a response. After five excruciatingly long minutes, I head to my room and slip on a pair of shorts and T-shirt, twisting my hair into a messy bun.
I might not be able to see Levi before I head back to school, but I want to at least make sure he’s okay. He’s been avoiding me even more recently.
Picking up my phone, I start to type out a message to my dad but quickly erase it. There’s nothing that sounds right to send. There’s no way I want to leave things feeling even more out of sorts than usual. The flat tire. It’s a good reason to swing by the shop. Even without an excuse, I’d be stopping by because I need to apologize to him again.
As I’m pulling up to the shop, my phone dings with a message.
Levi: Busy. I’ll see you next time.
While the context of the message doesn’t bring me comfort, him actually responding does.
