Page 132 of Almost Rotten

I’m sure they fucking are.

Before I can manufacture a more appropriate response, a deep voice calls my name.

Head snapping up, I lock eyes with Mercer.

He strides through the crowd, still dressed in the clothes he wore to work—crisp navy trousers, a light blue Oxford, and a navy sports jacket.

He navigates the hall with ease, sidestepping groups of people, never looking anywhere but right at me.

I’m ensnared.

Trapped between two worlds, caught up in Tytus’s lies.

My insides twist and my heart aches a little more with each step he takes.

When he comes to stop before me, his lips twitch in a playful smile.

“Ms. Davvies,” he murmurs, reaching out to take my hand. “I’ve come to—”

“Professor,” I say with high-pitched, false bravado. “What a surprise.”

He freezes, his gaze hardening, then drifting to Nicole.

“This is Nicole Bock,” I offer. “She works for the Georgia Galaxy. The NHL team that drafted one of our students, Tytus Tremblay.”

His expression remains morbidly flat, though a muscle in his jaw ticks as he searches my face, silently begging for a better explanation.

He’ll have to wait. For now, all I can say is “We’re all just waiting for the players to come out after the game.”

Nicole perks up, giving Mercer a friendly once-over. They’re around the same age, I realize. “Tytus is one of your students?” she asks. “And how do you two know each other, Mrs. Tremblay?”

The instant those last two words are out of her mouth, Mercer releases a low growl and closes the space between us.

With a small squeak, I take a step away, ensuring he doesn’t touch me.

Dammit. If Nicole catches on—

The guys emerge then, and Atty calls out “Sawy!” from across the hall.

“Uh, I’m Professor Eden’s graduate assistant,” I explain. “It was nice chatting with you.” I take a step back, then another. “I’m going to check on the guys.”

Smiling, Nicole shoos me away with a sweeping motion.

Mercer glares at me, his dark eyes black in the terrible lighting.

Turning away, I pull out my phone.

Sawyer:I’m so sorry about that. Give me two minutes, and then we can go.

“Tough one, guys.” I fall into Atty’s open arms and peer up at him. “You’re okay?”

He nods stoically, then tips his chin toward Ty.

Pulling in a slow, steadying breath, I turn to Tytus.

Onyx eyes clouded with pain bore into me. Our visceral chemistry hums back to life in an instant, our connection a living entity between us.

His hair’s still wet from the shower, and his face is a pale, putrid color. His jaw is rigid and his breathing is labored.