Page 42 of Almost Rotten

“He’s the one who caused all of this.” I step out from behind the desk and move closer to her. “There would be nothing for him to take care of if he weren’t blackmailing us with a sex tape he recorded without our consent.”

She presses the heels of her hands into her eyes. “I’m not saying what he did was okay, but Ty—”

“Do not sit here and defend him. What sort of twisted mind game is he playing, and how has he so quickly gotten into your head?”

Sawyer snaps to attention, the blood draining from her face. She’s shell-shocked, like she’s not here. Like she isn’t hearing me.

“Are you—”

“I’m fine,” she answers, her tone deceptively calm, her eyes fixed on the window behind my desk.

Sighing, I crouch in front of her and take her hands in mine.

She lets me. But she still doesn’t look at me.

“I shouldn’t have lost my temper,” I murmur. “I’m sorry. I’m not upset with you. Just the situation.”

When she remains silent, I squeeze her hands, urging her to do something, to say anything.

Finally, she inhales deeply, her chest rising. As it falls again, she says, “I have it under control.”

Her eyes flit to my face, no doubt checking to see if I’ve bought the lie.

“Do you?” I press. “Because this is killing me, sweetheart.” I cup her cheek. “It’s fucking killing me. And tomorrow, when you’re out at the orchard—”

“I know.”

She doesn’t know.

She doesn’t know how deep his feelings for her already run.

As painful and stressful as this situation is for me, it will be so much fucking worse for Noah.

She swipes at a stray tear, displacing my hand in the process.

The calendar alert dings on my computer.

“It’s almost ten,” she says woodenly. “We should get going.”

I rise to my feet, giving up on getting through to her right now, and wordlessly gather up my materials for class.

Chapter seventeen

Sawyer

Every step from my dorm to the arena is more jarring than the last.

The sidewalk is wet, littered with dead leaves and darkened by the perpetual afternoon drizzle.

Even with my hands shoved in my coat pockets, my fingers are practically numb. It’s time to bring out the winter gloves.

I arrive for my shift with little time to spare and clock in quickly before taking my place behind the skate rental counter. Before the arena gets busy, I open the log and check the reservations for the afternoon so I know what to expect.

“Yo, Sawy.”

Arjun appears in the cut-out partition between the skate rental counter and the concession stand.

“Are you thirsty?” He wags his eyebrows suggestively and waves a Styrofoam cup over his head.