Page 135 of Almost Rotten

Loving her shouldn’t be so fucking hard.

And as much as I’m loath to admit it, it’s true.

I love her.

I love her, yet she acted as if we’re nothing, all to save face for him.

The third message I read angers me enough to make me clamp down on my phone. Once again, I’m at risk of chucking it out the window.

Because while Sawyer’s messages irritate me, the message from Noah breaks my goddamn heart.

Noah:What’s your ETA? Do you think Sawyer will want to hang out by the fire tonight, or will she be too tired? I can get it going so it’s ready when you arrive.

We planned to surprise her tonight. Rather than take her back to my place like she expected, I was going to drive out to the orchard.

Between Noah’s extended workdays and the preparations for the event this weekend, we’ve all been putting in long hours. She’d never admit it, but I sense that Sawyer misses Noah whenit’s just the two of us at my place, so I orchestrated a surprise midweek meetup.

Though the reality is that all I’ve orchestrated is my own heartbreak.

The earnestness of Noah’s message slays me but also forces me into action. I won’t give up. I refuse to lose her to that man-child again. Rather than sit back and keep my mouth shut while he manipulates her, I’ll take a stand.

He’s sinking his claws into her again, and he isn’t going to stop.

It’s time to handle this for good.

How does the saying go?Hurt people hurt people?

Tytus Tremblay is in for a painful surprise. He doesn’t know the depths of my damage or the lengths I’ll go to in order to protect the people I love.

He doesn’t know, but he’s about to learn.

Chapter fifty-eight

Sawyer

When I open the door, Atty’s head pops out from around the corner.

“Back so soon?” he asks lightheartedly, fastening his watch around his wrist.

He isn’t surprised that we’ve already returned.

He knows how Ty gets in any type of medical setting. It’s rare he lets anyone even touch him, so despite the extent of his injuries, he’s already been discharged with a handful of pain pills and instructions to rest, ice, and come back to the emergency room if his pain worsens.

I’m frustrated, but I don’t have it in me to push. Especially because if I end up roped into any more of this, it’ll keep me away from my plans even longer.

His coach and the trainers shouldn’t have permitted me to take him to the hospital. But they obviously trusted that he would be forthcoming about his injuries, and clearly they were wrong to do so.

Tytus showed the doctor the bruising from where the puck hit his inner thigh, though he didn’t mention his ribs, and the staff never bothered to insist he take off his shirt.

He knew exactly what to say—and what not to say—to avoid X-rays or additional testing. He’s a pro at talking medical personnel out of doing their damn jobs.

The foundation of his noncompliance was born from self-preservation. His dad would beat him senseless, sometimes unconscious, but he never sought medical attention, knowing it would mean more trouble.

One time Ty’s helmet came off during a scrimmage and he needed an MRI.

Dad and I were with him at the hospital. Though I wasn’t permitted back in the room, he eventually told me what happened. He had two panic attacks and couldn’t hold still long enough to get clear imaging. He didn’t talk for three days after that.

That’s why he convinced the trainers and coaches to let me escort him to the hospital. He knew I wouldn’t push. He knew I’d let him get away with receiving a subpar exam.