Page 62 of Almost Ravaged (Men of Evercrisp Orchard #1)

Chapter fifty-three

Tytus

T his is it. I’m warmed up, suited up, and ready to fucking go.

This is what I’ve been working toward for years. This is my chance to prove myself. To unleash on the ice, to kill it during my first NCAA game.

Except…

I want to see her. Need to, if the anxiety tingling up my limbs and the tightness in my chest are trustworthy indicators.

The locker room is chaos, music blaring and guys horsing around to amp each other up. Coach hasn’t come in yet, and we’ve still got fifteen minutes until we have to be back out there.

My head’s in the game, but my heart won’t stop hammering against my ribcage.

Warm-ups may have gone well, and mentally, I’m locked in, but I won’t feel fully ready until I’ve laid eyes on her.

“I’ll be right back.” I tip my chin toward the exit.

Atty knows the deal. He knows how I get.

He slaps my pads twice. “Don’t be late. You already know she’s out there. ”

I nod, knowing he’s right. But that doesn’t stop me from hustling out to find her.

She wouldn’t miss our first home game, but I still need to fucking see her.

I’m slow on my skate guards, each step heavy as I look around the mostly deserted corridor that connects the back entrance to the lobby.

I’m cursing myself for not bringing my phone out so I can text her when a cloud of copper hair catches my attention.

Instantly, all is right in the world.

“Sawyer!” I call out as she emerges from the bathroom.

She turns, locks eyes with me, and grins.

There she fucking is.

She darts over and throws her arms around my padded chest. I can’t feel her physical touch, but I still sense her. Everywhere.

“What are you doing out here?” she demands.

She’s gorgeous. Angelic. Her hair is soft and wavy around her shoulders. Her eyes are outlined in dark hunter green, her lashes extra long and thick. She’s got gold glitter freckles all over her nose and cheeks, along with the number 3 painted on one cheek and 7 on the other.

“I told you,” I choke out. “I needed to see you.”

She may roll her eyes in response, but I know she feels the impact of this, too.

This is what we’ve worked for. This is what we’ve been waiting for.

“Turn around,” I demand.

With a cheeky smile—because my girl knows exactly what she’s doing—she turns and sweeps her rusty red tendrils over one shoulder.

My chest seizes up, and I swear my vision goes spotty.

Tremblay , and the number 7.

I clench my fists so tight my knuckles go white. It takes everything in me not to reach out and trace each letter of my name on her back, right where it belongs.

She’s perfect. Tonight’s the night. After I win, I’m making her mine, once and for all.

“Ty?”

The sound of her voice brings me out of my reverie.

“I said good luck.” She nods toward the tunnel. “You probably need to get back there.”

She’s right.

“I’ll see you after the game?” I ask. As if it’s even a question .

Sawyer grimaces. “I have to close, so I won’t be out of here right away.”

I shrug. “After that, then,” I press. “Text me when you’re done. I’ll walk you home.”

Without confirming the plans, she shoves against my pads. “Go.” With that, she scurries away.

I don’t move a muscle until she’s out of sight.

Then, with renewed confidence and a sense of peace only she can bring me, I head back toward the locker room to play my first collegiate game.

The crowd is loud and rowdy as we take the ice and the announcers go through the starting lineup.

I scan the sea of faces as I make my introduction pass. The student section is overflowing, filled with girls all done up and shirtless super fans, their chests painted green and gold.

Cam, Kai, Bryant, and Grant are there, clustered together.

I keep looking as I skate, searching for her hair. So what if I saw her in the hallway ten minutes ago? I’m a fucking fiend.

I know roughly where she should be.

Atty pointed out the seats during warmups.

I’m ready. I’ve got this.

I just need to see my girl one more time.

I swing around the net and stop to check on our goalie.

Jet Gerard, a junior, has been nothing but welcoming to Atty and me.

We’ve got a good thing going, the three of us.

Hell, the whole team respects the shit out of the guy.

Don’t fucking touch him. Don’t even breathe in his direction.

The NCAA has rules against fighting, but if there were ever a situation where I’d be tempted to drop gloves, it would be on Jet’s behalf.

“You good, Tremblay?” he asks as he drops into his down stance.

I nod. I’m good. And the second I lay eyes on my girl in the stands, I’ll be fucking great.

“Let’s fucking go.”

I push off, heading back toward the bench, still searching the crowd.

A tingle of awareness rolls through me a second before I spot her .

There.

She’s sitting right where she should be, with my name on her back.

I grin, willing her to look up and catch me staring.

Instead of zeroing in on me, she turns to the person beside her.

I follow her line of sight, and my gut drops.

Fuckin’ A.

What is Mercer Eden doing here?

And he has the gall to sit beside her?

I grip my stick, rage tearing through me, agitation sizzling in my veins.

He’s here. Right fucking beside my girl.

And he’s—

The actual fuck?

He’s leaning down, whispering in her ear.

She’s pulling back, smiling up at him.

When he reaches out, I flinch. Like it’s my face he’s trying to cup.

My heart pounds heavily as he whispers in her ear again, his touch lingering far too long to be casual.

She doesn’t pull back. She doesn’t recoil or slap him away.

What the actual fuck is happening right now?

Nausea rolls through me, my lunch threatening to make a reappearance.

When she leans over and initiates a quick kiss, all I see is red.