Fueled(book two)(140)

I try to push the memories from my mind. Push them back into the abyss that they’re always hiding in. Rylee can’t love me. No one can love me. My head f*cks with me as I glance down the bar. The man sitting with his back to me causes sickness to grapple though me. Greasy dark hair. A paunchy gut. I know if he turns around what he’ll look like. What he’ll smell like. What he’ll taste like.

I toss back the seventh shot, trying to force the bile down. Trying to numb the f*cking pain—pain that won’t go the f*ck away even though I know in my right head that it’s not him. Can’t be. It’s just my mind f*cking with me because the alcohol hasn’t numbed enough yet.

I push my forehead in my hands. It’s Rylee’s voice clear as day that I hear in my head—but it’s his face that I see when I hear those three words.

Not Rylee’s.

Just his.

And my Mom’s. Her lips and that ragged smile giving me her constant affirmation of the freakish horror inside of me.

The blackness has already poisoned me. There’s no way in hell I’m going to let it kill Rylee too. Number ten goes down and my lips are starting to not work.

A catastrophic exit. The perfect f*cking meaning to Ace. I start laughing. It hurts so f*cking much that I can’t stop. I’m barely holding it together. And I’m afraid that if I do stop, I’m going to fracture just like the goddamn mirror.

Humpty f*ckin’ Dumpty.





“This is the way you want it to be. Guess you don’t want me,” I sing solemnly with my old standby, Matchbox Twenty, as I drive home after my shift the next day. I still haven’t heard from Colton, but then again I hadn’t expected to.

I pull into my driveway, the past twenty-four hours a blur. I should have called in sick to work as it wasn’t fair to the boys to have a guardian around who’s so wrapped up in their own head they weren’t really present.

I’ve relived the moment so many times that I can’t think about it anymore. I didn’t expect Colton to confess his undying love for me in return, but I also didn’t think he’d act as if the words were never spoken. I’m hurt and feeling the sting of rejection and am uncertain where to go from here. I took an important moment between us and f*cked it up. What to do now? I’m not sure.

I trudge in the house, drop my bag rather unceremoniously on the floor by the front door, and collapse on the couch. And that is where Haddie finds me hours later when she walks through the door.

“What’d he do to you, Rylee?” Her demand rouses me from sleep. Her hands are on her hips as she stands over me, and her eyes search mine for an answer.

“Oh, Haddie, I screwed up royally,” I sigh as I let the tears that I’d been holding back flow. She sits down on the coffee table in front of me, hand on my knee in support, and I relay everything to her.

When I finish she just shakes her head and looks at me with eyes full of compassion and empathy. “Well, sweetie, if anything’s screwy, it’s definitely not you!” she says. “All I can say is that you need to give him a little time. You probably scared the shit out of Mr. Free-Wheelin’-Bachelor to death. Love. Commitment. All that shit...” she waves her hand through the air “...is a big step for someone like him.”

“I know.” I hiccup through my tears. “I just didn’t expect him to be so cold…so nonchalant about it. I think that’s what hurts the most.”

“Oh, Ry.” She leans in and hugs me tightly. “I’ll call in sick to the event tonight so you’re not alone.”