Page 7 of Hate So Deep (Hate #4)

NOW

Dirk

“What’s going on with you, bro?” Colt asks and I eye him sideways.

Today, Colt and I are doing final fittings for our tuxes. Unfortunately, my head is not in the game.

However, if I don’t pull it out of my ass, Colt is going to sniff out shit that he doesn’t need to be involved in.

“Nothing,” I mutter and his brows rise.

Of course, he’s known me since we were five fucking years old, so he doesn’t accept my avoidance and says, “Is this about Buck?”

Where the fuck did that come from?

Glancing back, I scan his dark tuxedo with matching tie, and inexplicably warmth for my brother who is finally going to find his peace floods through my system.

It was a long road for him and Finn, which even I could see, although for a time, he refused to, was inevitable. Luckily, Finn’s a fighter and she took what he gave and spit it right back at him.

Colt’s road hasn’t been easy and, in the end, neither was Finn’s which makes this happily ever after perfect for them.

As for me, I’d rather claw my eyes out with a fork than ever tie myself to one person for eternity.

Just the thought makes me shudder.

“Well?” Colt asks, slapping my shoulder.

“The fuck you talking about?” I mutter and he cocks his head.

Shit. Real slick dumbass.

Maybe you should just wave a red flag in front of his face.

Ignoring the kernel of annoyance sliding down my spine, I wave my hand and say, “Why would I care about Buck? Fucker’s dead.”

Silence drops between us, and I avoid his gaze because I know he can read everything that I’ve ever thought, and he’s probably already translated it in his head.

Asshole.

“Did you, do it?" he finally asks, and this is when I swing around and cross my arms.

“Do what?” I ask and he curls his lip.

“You know as slick as you think you are, something is going on and you might as well tell me cuz I’ll figure it out eventually.”

But I can’t tell my friend. I can’t tell anyone.

I made my bed and now I have to lay in it, which is a stupid fucking saying, but whatever it makes sense, I guess in this scenario.

Either way I did what I did. I can’t take it back and I’m not bringing these people down with me.

Colt deserves to be happy and so does Finn, especially after what that crazy fucker, Ramie’s brother, did to them.

While it’s not in my nature to brood over the shit I can’t change, I do regret that there are times when I included people that didn’t need to be.

I was the asshole using people to feed a fucking need that still remains empty and I’m sure a psychiatrist would have a field day with that, but I refuse to allow the darkness bubbling in my veins to boil over when my friends have found the light.

This is why I’m leaving but none of them know that, and they don’t need to.

For them I’m just following my dream of joining the fucking Marines. I’ve never wanted to be a Marine.

Fuck I don’t know what I wanna be, but it isn’t some tool fighting a war that nobody even cares about in some other country.

I can't stay here though and if I enlist, I'll get as far and fast away from here as possible before I lose any more of my soul to this stupid fucking game.

In any case, I have a feeling that everything will implode before I make it that far, which is why I’m itching to just go.

“I wasn’t even here, dick,” I mutter, pointing at the black bowtie, half wrapped around his neck. “Do you even know how to do that?”

He glances down with a grin and says, “Nope, but I’m sure my mom can show me.”

Turning back to the mirror, his eyes roll over his outfit with a grimace, and I chuckle because I know this part of the ritual means nothing to him, but he would do anything for Finn.

“Suck it up buttercup,” I say, and he eyes me coldly before his mouth curves.

“Oh, we’ll suck it up asshole. Now put on the damn suit,” he says with a dramatic eye roll, and I drop my pants before grabbing my dick.

“Why didn’t you tell me you wanted to see my cock?” I say raising a brow and he just rolls his eyes again.

“Put on the damn suit. So, I can send a picture and she’ll be happy.”

“Yes, sir,” I say, saluting him before grabbing the tuxedo off the hanger.

After dressing, I turn to the mirror. I never really thought I’d find myself wearing something like this, but hey, I would do anything for Finn.

She saved my brother, and I suppose that’s where the tail end of my story began. Now I refuse to let things lay even if it means I have to burrow in the shit myself.

“Where’s Franks, anyway?” I ask while Colt fumbles with his phone.

“Had to work. He’ll be by later,” Colt says.

After our stupid ass selfie in which Colt makes cow eyes at the camera and I flip it off, he sends the message before dropping his phone on the bench.

“Guess who I saw yesterday?” he asks and the casual tone to his voice inspires me to look up.

I don’t know what’s coming but the caution behind his stare raises my hackles as he says, “She was coming out of the bridal shop when I picked up Finn.”

She?

“Who?”

Shrugging, Colt starts to unbutton his shirt, and I stare at his fingers as he says, “Stacey.”

With a grunt, I turn away and tug on my shirt while I’m sure Colt assesses me like a fucking stalker.

Stacey Hughes.

I shouldn’t be surprised. This is why I’m here, but it never occurred to me that she would ever show her face here again.

Is this what inspired my father to start his games again?

Whatever, I’ll deal with his shit and get gone.

Except, Lauren’s tear-stained eyes when I confronted her the other night still roll around in my brain and I wonder if it’s possible to change how Colt feels about her.

I have a feeling she’s going to need her half siblings now more than ever.

However, this won’t be easy. Colt may be a tamer version of himself these days, but something about Celia Stark sets him off and unfortunately, Lauren is the one who experiences his rage.

I have my suspicions as to why, but I’ve never asked and if he wanted me to know he would tell me.

“So?” Colt says and I roll my eyes to the ceiling.

“What?”

“That’s it?” Wadding up the shirt he tosses it on the bench before saying, “You gonna see her.”

“Why the fuck would I do that? It’s done. There’s nothing more to say.”

Although he doesn’t comment, I can practically feel his thoughts battering at my skull but I’m not having this conversation with him.

Stacey Hughes means nothing to me and that’s a stone-cold fact.