Page 126 of Almost Rotten

He shakes his head and through gritted teeth says, “I’m warning you, Tremblay—”

“Did she tell you this version has sound?” I ask, cutting off his threat. “Did you know she says your name seven fucking times in the course of four and a half minutes?”

The man lets out a too-loud guffaw. Then, with a look around to make sure the students near us aren’t listening in, he whispers, “Do you really think you can blackmail her into wanting to be with you? She’s my girlfriend.”

“She’s my wife,” I snap back.

Sawyer clears her throat at the front of the room, catching our attention.

Professor Eden turns and offers a placating smile. I watch, willing her to look my way, but her sole focus is on him. Whenshe looks away, it’s to resume her presentation. Like I don’t even fucking exist.

Shifting my way again, Eden resumes his diatribe. “She’s not your wife. She told me everything. You’re delusional. You need help. This is the final warning. Leave. Her. Alone.”

Snickering, I lean back in my seat and stretch my arms out wide. “Sorry, Prof. That’s not an option. That woman up there?”

I raise my brows, giving him a moment to sweat it out.

“She’s mine,” I say when he squirms almost imperceptibly. “She’s a part of me. And no matter what she tells you, no matter what she tries to convince herself of, I’ll always be a part of her, too.”

Chapter fifty-four

Sawyer

The Holt University Lightning Bolts face off against the Great Lakes U Otters tonight.

I twisted myself into knots debating whether to come to the game. This week has been painfully tense, but I’ve successfully avoided one-on-one contact with Tytus until now.

Until this afternoon, I was pretty much set on not attending. But then Cam asked about early dinner plans in front of Atty, and I wasn’t prepared to come up with an explanation for my brother if I turned her down.

My plan before that moment was to keep up with the game from the comfort of my favorite table at the library, then head to Mercer’s.

I’ve stayed with him at his condo downtown every night this week, and I’ll continue for the foreseeable future if it means avoiding Ty.

Mercer offered to come to this game with me, but it’s far easier to just attend with my friends. I also don’t want to set Tytus off while he’s on the ice.

We compromised. Mercer will pick me up after the game and we’ll grab a late dinner.

Ty texted me before the game, notifying me that Nicole and a photographer from the Georgia Galaxy will be in attendance. I ignored him, like I have all week. I’ve considered blocking his number at least a dozen times, but every time I do, I worry about having to explain our fallout to Atty. I’m not ready for that.

Though he has to suspect something’s going on.

The air between them has been tense the few times I’ve seen the two of them this week. One of them is angry at the other, but I haven’t asked for details. I’ve got my own issues with Ty to sort through.

While the teams warm up, I stare out over the ice, unseeing, and toy with the hem of Atty’s jersey. I’ve stuck to only wearing his number since the first game.

My stomach roils with unwarranted nausea. My nerves are getting the best of me. After tonight, I’ll have a reprieve. I hope. The Bolts have away games this weekend. Next weekend, they’re on the road again, and at the end of the month they’re playing in a charity scrimmage in Cleveland.

The student section is thinner than usual, probably because it’s a weeknight, and the general seating section is full of kids and families. It’s peewee hockey night, so as the guys warm up,kids of all sizes bang on the Plexiglas and hover near the tunnel, hoping for autographs.

“Yo. Sawy.” Arjun nudges me with his elbow. “Think I have a shot with your brother?”

I follow his gaze to where Atty is warming up. He’s on his knees, engaged in a rolling abductor stretch.

Cringing, I avert my gaze. I have no interest in watching my brother thrusting on the ice.

Arjun, on the other hand, is singularly focused on my twin.

“Maybe?” I say with a shrug.