Page 134 of Almost Rotten

I won’t lie to Atty.

Mercer clears his throat, drawing the attention of the group.

Silently, I beg him not to make a scene. This is so much bigger than his ego. Ty’s life is on the line. His physical health and his standing with his future professional team all depend on everyone playing along right now.

With a haughty look, he asks, “I take it you no longer require a ride, Ms. Davvies?”

Ty scoffs. “She does not. Thanks anyway, Professor.”

Mercer cocks one eyebrow, his focus centered on me.

He wants me to answer him.

He needs me to choose him, loudly and without exception.

But when I open my mouth, no words come out.

I’m frozen, hovering between Atty and Ty, weighed down by Nicole’s presence, unable and unwilling to destroy the one thing Ty has going for him.

Because now that he’s destroyed us, hockey is all he has left.

Ty clears his throat, then places his right hand on my low back.

Mercer’s eyes flare in challenge.

Annoyance courses through my veins.

With a small shake of my head, I murmur, “Thanks anyway, Professor.”

Mercer sucks in a harsh breath, his expression souring. I feel the shift in disposition as his defensive walls slam down and he blocks me out.

I regret rejecting him the second the words are out of my mouth.

But this is just the path of least resistance, not a legitimate rejection. I’ll explain that to him later. I’ll make this up to him, and I’ll make sure I never put him in a position like this again.

I lick my lips and try to catch his gaze. I just need him to look me in the eye, to tap into our connection, so I can offer an unspoken promise that nothing has changed. That I’ll be back at his place as soon as I’m done at the hospital.

But he doesn’t allow it. He averts his attention and refuses to let me in. Mercer scans the group, focus passing over me as if I’m nothing to him, and offers an emotionless goodbye. With a sharp nod, he turns on his heel and stalks out of the tunnel.

Chapter fifty-seven

Mercer

Eyes squeezed shut, I pound my fists into the steering wheel. “Fuck.”

That boy. That fucking lunatic.

Once I have my breathing somewhat under control and I’m no longer tempted to throw my phone, I unlock the screen and check my messages.

Sawyer:I’m so sorry about this. It’s not what it looks like. These people are from the pro team that drafted Ty, so I had to play along since they think we’re married.

Rather than understanding, I’m filled with rage. Her explanation is truly as absurd as it sounds.

Sawyer:I’m going to take him to the hospital to get checked out, then we can meet up. I can call you when I’m done.

Pain lances through my chest. She’s going with him. She chose him.

Again.