Page 22 of Almost Ravaged (Men of Evercrisp Orchard #1)

Chapter twenty

Sawyer

“ S ee you both in class.”

Right. At least the word both implies 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.

That time together awakened a layer of our shared and individual grief that I didn’t know existed until then.

Every emotion was amplified as we clung to the limited time their schedules allowed.

With them, I was safe. When they were gone, I knew that sensation would evaporate.

Being together for a few days knowing damn well we’d have to endure being apart again was its own brand of torture.

After that visit, I understood that I couldn’t heal, even partially, if I didn’t find outlets and an identity separate from Atty and Ty.

The pain that punctuated our brief visits eased over the years. It eased, and then it dissipated enough to make room for glimmers of joy.

We all changed. Grew. Coped in ways we don’t often talk about .

Atty grew meaner. He’s always been brutal on the ice, but every now and then, he really lets go, unleashing the full force of his rage. Thankfully Ty is usually there to cut him off at the pass and ground him.

Tytus grew colder. Even quieter than before.

He retreated into himself so intensely that it’s rare he lets even the slightest bit of his true personality show around people who don’t know him the way we do.

Even with us, he keeps it mostly hidden.

His distance still catches me off guard sometimes.

But then he’ll smile or insist on carrying my bag to class or make an absolute ass of himself defending my honor and getting kicked out of the lecture hall by our professor, and it reminds me he’s still in there.

As for me?

I grew bolder. Wilder. I developed a reckless streak, partying and exploring my more carnal desires and fantasies.

For a long time, it was as if I led a double life.

Sometimes, I was Sawyer, the 4.0 student and loner at McMaster University.

Other times, I became Sawyer, the good-time party girl who could outdrink anyone and was always chasing some kind of high while coordinating her next hookup.

We barely resemble the kids we once were. But at least there’s renewed lightness when we’re together. The undercurrent of grief is always there, and it changed us all irrevocability. But the grief is no longer the singular string holding us together.

If I had it my way, it would always be the three of us against the world. We’ve survived enough bullshit and heartache for a lifetime. We deserve to have a little fun, and to have a real college experience.

Though reality doesn’t always match dreams, I’m determined to make the best of the next few years.

I grip Atty’s arm, squeezing. “I’m really glad you guys came out tonight.”

He dips his chin, and when we stop behind a group of people waiting at the bar, he slings an arm over my shoulders. “Yeah. Me, too.”

Head tipped back, I beam up at him. Once the season starts, nights like this will be very few and far between. I want to soak up every moment while we can.

“So,” he says, tugging on a strand of my hair. “Do you see your friends anywhere?”

“Ouch.” I play-punch him in the side, then step around him and scan the bar. The place is packed , just like every other bar we’ve been to tonight, and when I don’t spot them right away, I weave between tables, scanning the crowd for familiar faces.

On the other side of a partition, I spot Cam and call her name.

She twists around, her whole face lighting up as she waves me over.

I hold up one finger, letting her know we’ll be right there, then make my way back to the boys, who are chatting, even as both keep an eye on me. I smile at the sight.

“They’re around the corner.” I thumb over my shoulder.

Atty nods. “We’ll grab drinks.”

As he and Ty drift closer to the bar, I retrace my steps to join my friends.

“You made it.” Cam hops to her feet and pulls me into a hug. She smells divine. Like sweet jasmine layered with a scent akin to honey or sugar.

With one arm still looped around me, she makes introductions. “Everyone, this is Sawyer. She’s a grad student, and starting this week, an employee of the ice arena. Sawy.” She grins at me. “This is, well, everyone.”

Sawy. Ugh. Did she overhear Atty call me that, or come up with it on her own?

I give a slightly overwhelmed smile to the group, my chest tightening. Should I speak? Drop into a chair? Run away?

Before I can do any of those things, Cam goes on. “You already know Kai.”

They look up from their phone with an amused smirk.

“Then there’s Skylar, our resident ice patrol princess.”

A blond girl with big barrel curls and the whitest smile I’ve ever seen gives me a little wave.

“Bryant is in the red.”

A man at the end of one table lifts a hand in greeting, his cut-off shirt highlighting his physique and dark brown skin.

“He’s a supervisor at the arena and helps me with scheduling.”

I nod a hello.

“Next to him is Arjun, then Freyja, then Grant. They work at the ice arena and the rec center.”

“Adventure center,” Grant, a white guy with a scruffy beard, corrects.

Cam lowers her head and shoots him a glare that would make me wither. “The adventure center is inside the rec, pal. You don’t need to remind us you’re not like other boys. ”

Freyja, a white woman with gorgeous features and stick-straight posture, snickers and pokes Grant in the side.

Cam, who’s all smiles once again, turns back to me. “This is the crew. Minus a few others who are under twenty-one and couldn’t come out tonight.”

It takes a moment for the meaning of her words to click. Under twenty-one. Right. The drinking age is different here.

“I’ll grab you a chair.” Arjun’s melodic accent sounds both British and Indian. He tucks his shaggy black chin-length hair behind his ears and stands.

“Oh.” I take half a step closer. “We’ll need three, actually. My brother and friend are at the bar.”

Kai sits straighter in their seat. “They’re the hockey players, right?”

Every person at the table pauses, and every eye darts to me.

Uh. Okay…

Before I can decode the reaction, the guys appear at my side.

“Um, everyone,” I announce meekly, “this is my brother, Atticus, and our friend Tytus. They’re freshmen, and the team’s new D-men.”

The table erupts with chatter.

“You’re the kids from Canada?”

“Davvies and Tremblay, right?”

“You guys shut out the Sharks in last year’s junior A regional championship.”

“Coach has been talking about you nonstop.”

With a snort, Cam links her arm with mine. “Just about everyone here is a hockey nut. Bryant and Skylar especially.”

I follow her line of sight to where Atty is already settling in next to Skylar.

Ty shuffles around the table, squeezing between the people seated and those mingling nearby, and holds out a bottle for me. “They had Molson,” he says, a slight curve to his lips.

I reach for the bottle, but Cam intercepts it. “Beer? At Mae’s?” She scrunches her nose. “Next time, get a Long Island. It’s what they’re famous for.”

Ty, who’s still gripping the bottle, scowls at Cam until she releases it. As he hands it to me, I meet his gaze and mouth thank you . He tips his chin in acknowledgment, then offers a shy smile that warms me from the inside.

“We’ve only been here a week,” I remind Cam, taking a seat between her and Kai .

Tytus circles back around the table, his every move holding my attention. Rather than sit in the empty seat next to Atty, he leans against the wall, props one foot, and crosses his arms, like a surly statue standing guard.