Page 51 of Almost Ravaged

I keep my eyes glued to her, refusing to let her out of my sight in this kind of crowd, and cross my arms. “That man on the stairs. The douche wearing the button-down?”

“What about him?”

As Sawyer drifts farther away, I jerk my head to the side and level my best friend with a glare. “That’s the professor. The one I told you about, who embarrassed her in front of the whole class on Monday.”

Atty presses his lips together, then lifts one shoulder. “Looks like they’ve worked it out, don’t you think? They said hi to each other just now.”

With a quiet groan, I drag a hand down my face. Clearly he didn’t see the way Eden looked at his sister. Nor did he witness the unwarranted berating he gave her on Monday.

Sighing, he slings an arm over my shoulders and jostles me. “Sawyer’s a big girl. We grew up in academia. I’m sure if there’s an issue, she’ll address it with the dean or whoever.”

Sawyer makes her way back to us, wearing a bright smile that hits me right in the heart.

“She’s been handling herself just fine without us for the last three years,” he reminds me.

I flinch on instinct.

Yeah, she has, but she shouldn’t have had to.

I’ll be damned if I don’t step up and protect her now that we’re together.

Chapter twenty

Sawyer

“See you both in class.”

Right. At least the wordbothimplies he hasn’t booted Tytus from his roster.

God, that man drives me crazy. Even the alcohol in my system can’t dull the annoyance that surges through me when he opens his mouth.

The desire isn’t dulled either, unfortunately.

I’m positive he checked me out just now. An encounter like that would make me feel desirable and seen, especially when the attention comes from an older man—he’s my type for sure; one of them, at least—but a lewd once-over like that from that particular man sparks anger just as quickly as it ignites an ache in my core.

How can a man so infuriating also be so disgustingly hot?

When the bottleneck on the stairs finally eases, I force my attention away from him and follow Atticus.

Ty’s hand stays planted on my low back all the way to the second floor.

They always do this, as if it’s instinct for them to sandwich me between them when we go out.

Not that we’ve had many opportunities to go out together over the last few years.

Quality time has been hard to come by since they moved to Verchamp to play for the Scorpions. And on the occasions that we could get together, there was always this need to make every second count that ultimately led to us doing a whole lot of nothing.

The boys and I spent sixty-four days apart after they moved in with their billet family, only seeing one another when the holidays came around. Those were the loneliest and hardest days of my life. Even worse than the days after the incident and the tense weeks we spent cleaning out the home we all loved while trying not to let the raw, horrifying memories of what happened paralyze us.

When the guys visited during that first Thanksgiving break, we didn’t even leave my apartment or bother to prepare a traditional Thanksgiving feast.

We spent four days eating takeout, watching comfort shows, and being extraordinarily anxious and jumpy in each other’s presence.

We were barely coping and entirely unprepared to support one another while simultaneously struggling to survive on an individual level.

The first night the guys stayed with me in my studio apartment, Tytus, who’d camped out on the floor beside Atty, wandered over to my bed and wordlessly climbed in beside me. He held me tightly, and I broke, as if, with his support, I could finally let go. Then he kept holding me. He held me for hours while I sobbed.

On the second night, Atty joined us, choosing to sleep lengthwise at the foot of the bed while Ty and I cuddled at the top.