Page 12 of Almost Ravaged (Men of Evercrisp Orchard #1)

Chapter twelve

Sawyer

A s I take in the worn bricks and boring beige doors, I can’t help but feel underwhelmed. “This is it?”

We’re standing in a parking lot, facing the back side of the Holt University ice arena.

The entrance before us is flanked by a rusted red dumpster on one side and a dirty pile of ice on the other.

Homely is the first word that comes to mind. With any luck, given the hockey program’s distinction, the inside has been updated sometime since I was born.

“We’re looking at the back of the building,” Atty reminds me. “Holt has had thirteen players go on to play in the AHL or NHL in the last decade. Gripe about the décor all you want, but this place is my best shot.”

His best shot.

Because Tytus has already been drafted by the Georgia Galaxy. His plan is to train and play at Holt for at least two years before pursuing the professional league. Selfishly, I hope he sticks around longer and actually graduates .

It’s a big deal, Ty already being drafted. It’s not unheard of for a defenseman, but it’s not super common either. The Galaxy’s interest in him is indicative of just how good he is on the ice.

Atty insists he’s fine, but the reality of the situation has to be weighing on him.

He and Ty are both defensemen. They’ve trained and played together for years, and for the first time ever, there’s a distinction between them.

A big one. Ty is here to hone his skills and prove his worth to his new team, whereas Atty is still chasing the dream.

My heart hurts for my brother.

It’s painful to be left behind, even temporarily. I know that kind of loneliness firsthand.

“Let’s go.” Tytus hoists his hockey bag higher on his shoulder and heads for the doors. “I don’t want to be late.”

Inside, we pass a garage-style door, likely housing the Zamboni, and take the ramp leading to the lobby.

The inimitable ice arena smell registers immediately, a mix of generic cleaner and concession stand food, with an underlying hint of sweat and exertion.

Honestly? It’s a gross cornucopia of scents layered on top of one another.

But I can’t resist inhaling deeply as we make our way toward the lobby.

At the top of the ramp, Ty stops. Atty and I flank him, and the three of us take in the facility.

The walls are wood-paneled, and across the space, floor-to-ceiling windows reveal two sheets of ice. According to the internet, the one on the left is the recreation rink where they offer skating lessons and open skate times. The hockey rink is on our right.

Behind a long counter that serves as both snack bar and skate rental booth, two staff members have their backs turned as they prepare food. At one end, a person with blue-streaked space buns gnaws on the end of a pencil and grimaces at a textbook in their lap.

The lobby is sunken, accessible by carpeted, tiered stairs, with a massive stone-faced fireplace at its center. The bench seats surrounding the fireplace are thickly padded and cushy.

Two more people wearing staff shirts sit together on the far side of the stairs, notebooks and textbooks scattered around them, heads down.

I take it back. This place isn’t homely.

It’s awesome .

Atty bumps my shoulder, one side of his lips tipping up. “Looks like we now know where we can find you for the next few years.”

I retaliate with a playful shove. He knows me too well. I’m already dreaming about setting up camp here while the guys practice each afternoon, envisioning long study sessions in front of that fireplace.

I arranged my fall schedule in a way that should allow me to attend most of their afternoon skates, though I may have to hang back for office hours a few times a week for my graduate assistantship.

A placement in the marketing and entrepreneurship department would not have been my first choice, but by the time the guys had received their acceptance letters from Holt, it was one of very few assistantship options still open.

There was no interview required, so I simply applied online, answered several essay-style questions, and was accepted the following week.

“Earth to Sawyer,” Atty teases.

I turn to him, not bothering to hide the smile etched on my face.

He returns the expression, thumbing over his shoulder. “We’ve got to get in there. I assume you’ll be out here?”

“For a while. I may sneak in and watch some of your practice, too.”

He adjusts the strap of his bag on his shoulder. “This is an optional practice, but we plan to stay for the full three hours.” He glances at Tytus to confirm, but Ty’s busy taking in the details of the lobby. “If you want to leave before we’re done, just text so we know where to find you.”

I slip my arm between his back and his enormous hockey bag and squeeze his waist. “I brought plenty to do, so I don’t plan on going anyway. When you’re done, we can get dinner together.”

My brother’s shoulders relax, and in response, my heart twinges.

Regardless of the time we’ve been apart, our connection is strong.

Without fail, a niggling of anticipatory separation anxiety takes root inside both of us when we’re together, the dread of being separated again hanging over our heads.

Maybe we’d feel this way regardless of what we’ve been through.

Or maybe it’s the residual trauma that we may never shake.

Whatever the cause, it hurts. Just the idea of being apart from the guys for most of the afternoon, even though I’ll literally be in the same building, makes my stomach ache.

“Behave.” Atty kisses my head and gives me a quick squeeze in return before releasing me .

Ty’s eyes meet mine, his pupils blown out, a frenetic energy wafting off him. He gives me a quick once-over, then peers over my shoulder at the people working behind the counter.

My stomach twists a little tighter with concern.

Ty isn’t immune to the separation anxiety either.

Licking my lips, I reach out. Maybe hugging him right here in the middle of the ice arena is too bold, but the tether between us urges me forward. I can’t ignore the need to comfort him, even when I know damn well he won’t accept it because he doesn’t think he deserves it.

I just want to hold him. To place my head on his chest and listen to his heartbeat. To wrap my arms around him, hoping, wishing, waiting to see if he’ll hug me in return.

I shuffle half a step toward him.

He inhales sharply, then holds his breath.

Hoping.

Wishing.

Waiting.

My fingertips tingle, itching to touch—

“Let’s go, Tremblay,” Atty calls. “Ice is melting.”

Tytus blinks, his mask slipping back into place, all the trepidation warring behind his eyes evaporating. Then, wordlessly, he sidesteps me and follows my brother, leaving me alone once again.

Forget awesome.

I’m recategorizing this place to the homely type and adding annoying to its description. I’ve been hovering near the top of the stairs that lead down to the fireplace for several embarrassingly long minutes, debating with myself over where to sit.

Because of the way the lobby is designed, I’ll either have to sit to one side of the two people already settled down there or directly across from them, on the other side of the fireplace.

Trouble is, the firebox, which is open to both sides, is massive.

So if I sit across from them, it’ll be like watching them through a fishbowl .

Annoyed by my lack of executive functioning, I adjust my backpack and head for the far-left section.

Just as I’ve perched on the end of the lower bench, one of the people across from me speaks. “Open interviews don’t start for another two hours.”

“Oh.” I slide the straps of my backpack off my shoulders and make eye contact. “I’m not here for an interview. I was just going to…” I trail off.

Is it strange that I’m camping out for hours while my brother and his best friend practice? Maybe. Whatever. I’ll be spending a lot of time here, so I might as well introduce myself now.

“I’m going to hang out here and study while my brother and my friend are at practice. I’m Sawyer,” I offer, smiling tentatively.

“I’m Cameron.” The person closest to me has flawless light brown skin with a small sprinkle of freckles over the bridge of her nose.

Her face is framed by tight black curls and a pair of feathery pink earrings that almost reach her shoulders.

Her shirt is dark green, while her companion’s is a golden yellow.

“And this is Kai.” Cameron gives me a kind smile and thumbs to the person beside her. “Students don’t typically come here to hang out during the day.”

Based on her friendly expression, I don’t think she’s hinting that I can’t stay.

I scoot back a little, settling in. “You two work here, then?”

Cameron nods and sets her notebook aside. “Kai’s worked here since high school,” she says, crossing her legs. “Their mom oversees the Learn to Skate program.”

“Are you my new spokesperson?” Kai chides. Their tan complexion is a few shades lighter than Cameron’s. Their septum piercing catches the light and draws my attention to several piercings in each of their ears.

“Might as well be, for as forthcoming and friendly as you tend to be,” Cameron quips. She turns back to me. “Don’t mind them. We’re coming off eight weeks of youth hockey camps. It’s been a long-ass summer.”

“How long have you worked here?” I ask.

“Since freshman year. I’m the graduate assistant for the ice arena manager now.”

I perk up and lean forward. “You’re a GA? I am, too.”

I leave out the part where Cameron’s position was my top choice.

Since all the roles within the library and information science department had been filled, my hope was that I could find a position that was familiar to me.

But, of course, by the time I was ready to apply, the ice arena assistantship was no longer available either.

“Really? Where’s your placement?”

“I’m with Professor Eden in the Department of Marketing and Entrepreneurship.”