Page 58 of Almost Ravaged

Rolling from one side to the other to prevent sores from forming on my legs, butt, and sides.

Holding my nose against my own stench, curling up to avoid the corner where I relieved myself only once my back started throbbing from holding in my urine.

Fighting the stinging sensation of tears, then brutally scrubbing away any that escaped as quickly as I could.

If he caught me crying, he’d keep me locked up longer.

If he wasn’t satisfied with the way I cleaned out the crate after each stint, he’d shove me right back in, and it would all begin again.

“Ty.”

The familiar voice snaps me out of my spiraling thoughts. With a shake of my head and a cleansing breath, I force myself to focus on my best friend.

“You good, man?” Atty frowns, assessing me up and down.

I blink, then look around.

Sawyer’s at least ten meters ahead of us now. Completely out of reach.

I open my mouth to call out to her, but all that escapes me is a pathetic snarl.

Atty, who can probably tell I’m on the verge of spiraling again—he knows me too damn well—cups his hands around his mouth and hollers, “Sawy, get back here.”

My girl does a little spin move, arms stretched out wide, a brilliant smile on her face.

The moment she sees me, the expression falls into a concerned grimace. She rushes back to join us, never taking her big brown eyes off me.

I’m fucking pathetic.

Then.

Now.

I’m so fucking sick of the past ruining my chances with this girl.

Sawyer barrels into me, arms once again outstretched, trusting that I’ll catch her.

I do.

I may be fucking useless most of the time, but at least I still manage to catch her.

She holds me tight, pressing her cheek against my sternum. The nerves at every touchpoint flare and fire, the way they always do. Instinctively, I cup the back of her head and splay one hand over her low back.

“You’re okay,” she says into my chest. “We’re okay.” The words are quiet, but they’re powerful. They’re a stark reminder that we’re not okay, and that we haven’t been for years.

Swallowing past the shame and embarrassment threatening to consume me, I rest my chin on the top of her head and breathe in her sweet vanilla and cinnamon scent. As I focus on the familiar notes, I close my eyes and will my body to settle.

She tightens her grip on me, as if I’m the lifeline and she’s the one in distress.

When I open my eyes, Atty is scowling at me, his gaze flitting from my face to the places I’m touching his sister.

We’ve never officially broached the subject of Sawyer and me. He’s never dared to ask, and I’ve never dared to share. He knows we’re more than friends because of proximity and circumstance and the unshakable connection we’ve shared for years. But Atty has no idea that before the incident, his sister and I were destined to bemore.

We still are.

But before I can officially make her mine, I have to work past these fucking pathetic freeze-ups.

“Thank you,” I murmur into her hair. With a sigh, I drop my arms.