Page 24 of Almost Ravaged

He’s way more with it than I thought. I have to help. I have to dosomething.

My feet carry me back into the room. I won’t allow Ty to get hurt.

I pad toward him, staying directly behind him, and wrap my arms around his waist. “I’m here.”

His heart pounds against his ribs, his muscles coiled tight.

With my cheek pressed into the back of his hoodie, I drag my hands up his torso lightly. I stop at his biceps and give them a gentle squeeze, desperate to imbue him with all the support and strength I possess.

I’m here.

I’ve got you.

We can do this.

Wehaveto do this.

I skim the fabric covering his forearms, and when I reach his exposed wrists, my fingertips tingle. As I focus on steadying my breathing, his spicy vanilla and lime scent infiltrates my senses, and I’m shrouded in clarity.

I brace for the both of us, and when he inhales, I do, too, slipping my finger over the one he has positioned on the trigger.

When he exhales, I squeeze, and our world changes forever.

Three Years Later

Chapter eleven

Sawyer

“One last stop.”

Atty eases our shared vehicle into the car park of the gas station. Though gas station is a misnomer. The bright-red facility is monstrous.

The journey from Verchamp to Holt, Ohio, took about two hours less than I expected. Crossing the border so late probably helped. Along with my hypervigilance. Ensuring we all had our I-20s ready, along with our passports and even financial statements, just in case, made the process smooth and surprisingly speedy.

It’s six a.m. and we’re almost there.

For once in my life,almostfeels good. We’re close enough now that I can properly exhale and let the exhaustion from the drive seep in.

Yawning, I eye my phone screen, confirming my location before closing out of the app. The last few hours of the drive have been dull, so I figured I might as well do some digital housekeeping, including changing my primary location on my go-to hookup apps. It may take time to adjust to our new home, but I have no intention of cutting down on my favorite stress-relieving activities.

Once Atty has pulled up to a pump, the three of us sit for a breath. In the silence, a heaviness sinks its tenterhooks into me. Judging by the guys’ slumped shoulders, they feel it, too.

It’s not just the hours of traveling and the enervation caused by preparing for this move. It’s a deep, insidious exhaustion. A dark cloud that has hovered over us for the past three years, so pervasive that it’s soaked into our marrow. It’s a kind of low that never leaves. It’s a feeling that’s become a permanent part of us.

I shudder, then, squaring my shoulders, reject that line of thinking.

We’ve worked too hard, endured too much. Holt is our fresh start. I refuse to let the heaviness we carry define our lives any longer.

The three of us are a mess of yawns and languid movements as we unbuckle, open our doors, and step into the morning light.

Stretching, I take in our surroundings. There’s a pedestrian bridge across the way, a winding river below it. This early, with such little traffic, the rush of it can be heard from here. It’s the Cuyahoga River, according to my research. A natural border separating the campus of Holt University from the rest of the town.

Tytus groans, raising his arms overhead. He insisted on taking the back seat after our last stop, claiming he was tired and that I’m better with directions, thus more helpful to Atty. At six three, he could not have been comfortable, but secretly, I’m thankful. I tend to get nauseous in the back seat. He, of course, knows this, but he’d never admit that it was his true reason.

Even in the front seat, nausea plagued me, but the cool air helps calm my stomach. And my nerves.

Though it will likely be hot this afternoon, the air is crisp this morning. It smells different here than back home. There’s an earthy depth to the scent, accentuated by the trees that surround the riverbank.