Page 17 of Almost Rotten

I cradle her hand in mine. “Sweetheart, I know you care for him, and he’s your brother’s friend—”

“He’s my best friend, too,” she interjects.

I grit my teeth until a distinct popping sound concerns me enough to make me stop.

“Friends don’t record friends getting fucked and then use the footage as blackmail,” I hiss.

Fresh, fat tears fall down her face.

God dammit. The last thing I want is to make her feel worse. But what this boy has done is disgusting.

I can’t blame him for hating me after the way I humiliated Sawyer on the first day of class. I hate myself for it, too, and I deeply regret putting her on blast in front of the class. I’ve talked to my therapist about the incident at length, though I still need to properly apologize to her.

So I understand if he has beef with me. But I don’t understand why he’d so viciously hurt her in the process.

“Why would he blackmail you?”

She swipes away the tears and sighs in a way that sounds like the weight of the world is pressing against her lungs.

“Ty and I… I don’t know how to explain it.” She licks her lips, studying the floor in front of her. “We’ve always been in each other’s orbits, but just out of reach.”

She peeks up through her lashes, her green eyes glimmering with tears that just won’t end. I stay quiet but nod, willing her to continue.

“We’ve almost hooked up several times.” With her lip caught between her teeth, she surveys my face like she’s trying to gauge my reaction.

I cup her jaw and use my thumb to free the precious lip from its prison.

“Did you date?” I ask, resolved to keep my composure despite the way my insides are twisting.

She shakes her head.

“Were you or are you sleeping with him?”

Despite the connection I share with this woman, we hadn’t labeled our relationship until the conversation before the hockey game on Saturday night.

If she was sleeping with him before that or had a casual arrangement—

“Never,” she whispers.

A gust of air whooshes from my lungs and I’m hit with an instant wave of relief.

It’s one thing to share her with Noah. It’s another entirely to worry that she may be hooking up with a man willing to cause her extensive emotional damage.

I press my fingers into my temples and tip my head from side to side. “Let me get this straight. This boy, whom you’ve known for years yet never dated, and also have never slept with, thinks he has some claim on you? And that’s why he’s blackmailing you?”

She swallows, her face etched with concern. “In his defense, I’ve always felt like I have a claim on him, too.”

I bite back a scoff. As if that justifies his behavior. “And what exactly is the purpose of the blackmail?”

She huffs out a humorless laugh. “He wants you and me to end things. And he told the dean that he and I are married.”

I guffaw, my head dropped back. Way to bury the fucking lede.

Married?The very idea is preposterous. There’s no way Stalworth would fall for that.

“How did we go from revenge porn to marriage?” I demand.

Another sigh.