Chapter 56 Sawyer
Chapter fifty-six
Sawyer
He’s not okay.
The crowd burst into cheers when Atty and Ty returned to the game.
But I know Ty too well and I’ve watched him play for too long to believe he isn’t hurt. Badly.
He’s favoring one side. His crossover is laughably slow and he hasn’t even attempted a corkscrew since he’s been back on the ice.
Atty can tell, too, based on the way he keeps yelling at him then shaking his head.
Why the hell is he out there?
Do his coaches and the trainers really believe he’s fit enough to play?
With every second that ticks by in the final period, my anger builds.
By the time the final buzzer sounds, I’m irate.
We lost. Six to three.
When it’s over, Ty skates to the gate and throws out one arm for support.
Good grief.
He’s clearly in a ton of pain. How can no one else see this?
With a shaky hand, I pull my phone out and shoot off a text.
Sawyer: You need medical attention.
The message is pointless, for now at least. He won’t even look at his phone until he’s showered and changed, but I can’t do nothing. He needs to get checked out.
“Tough loss,” Cam says, her expression gloomy. “Do you want to come out with us tonight?”
I sigh. All I want to do is take a hot shower and stretch out in Mercer’s enormous bed while he plays guitar.
But I have to check on Ty. Or at least make sure Atty has things under control.
“Not tonight,” I say. “I’m gonna wait for the guys, then turn in early. Friday night is the big event at the orchard.”
And for days, I’ve done nothing but work on last-minute details. Even when I sleep, I get no peace, since I’ve been plagued with stress dreams about zombie volunteers trampling the students and participants rolling their ankles on loose cobs of corn.
“It’s going to be great.” She squeezes my shoulders as we shuffle along with the crowd of people evacuating the stands.
“Let’s hang out next week. Once the event is over.”
“For sure,” I promise. “Have fun tonight.”
Arjun falls into step with me as I head to the tunnel to wait for the guys. “All right, Davvies. How are we going to play this? Should I wait with you, or should I hang back so you can pretend to bump into me once you’re with your brother?”
Oh. Right.
“Arjun,” I sigh. “That was a rough game.”
He widens his eyes a little comically. “I’ll say.”
“I don’t think Atty will be in the right headspace for the kind of introduction you’re going for. And my focus right now is on making sure he and Ty are okay.”
His shoulders slump. “Fair enough. You promise to introduce me in the future, though?”
“You’ve literally already met,” I grumble with a roll of my eyes. I slump against the wall across from the locker room, knowing I’ll be out here a while.
Arjun and I say our goodbyes as the hallway fills up with kids hoping to meet the players and women dressed in tank tops and miniskirts, despite how cold the arena is.
One girl even has the words Lucky Wabbit bedazzled across her tits.
When I see it, I do a double take to make sure I’m reading it right.
I am. That first letter is definitely a W.
I’m zoned out, head resting against the wall, when my phone vibrates in my bag.
Mercer.
Shit. He’s supposed to be picking me up. He’s probably in the parking lot, watching the hordes of people leave, wondering where I am.
I don’t want to upset him, and I’m desperate to get out to the car and back to his place. But I can’t leave without checking on the guys.
I ignore the call to buy myself a bit of time, and hope like hell either Atty or Ty makes an appearance soon.
Less than a minute later, my phone vibrates again. This time I pull it out and read the message preview on the screen.
Mercer: I’m parked near the back door, but I can pull around to the front if you prefer. LMK
I eye the phone, then the locker room door. I’m anxious to get this over with. So much so that I’m tempted to go in and find them myself. But there are too many people hanging around, and the last thing I want to do is embarrass Atty in front of his teammates.
So I shoot my brother a text instead.
Sawyer: I’m in the tunnel, waiting. Are you and Ty okay?
His response comes through almost immediately.
Atty: I’m fine. He’s not.
Dread rolls through me.
What does that mean?
Before I can ask him to explain, Mercer calls again.
My heart clenches at the sight of his name.
Dammit, I don’t want to leave him waiting.
But I need to know that Atty has this under control.
Sawyer: What did the trainers say?
Atty: You know how he is. He downplayed the pain, and they bought it. Don’t think anyone even looked at his ribs.
Shit, shit, shit.
Ty has an extremely high tolerance for pain, and he’s far too good at disassociating and compartmentalizing, thanks to his abusive, lowlife, scumbag father.
My phone buzzes in my hand.
Mercer: I parked. I’m coming in.
Groaning, I slump against the wall. I need a plan. Mercer and Tytus in the same space is a recipe for trouble.
Before I’ve come up with a solution, I’m startled out of my thoughts by a feminine voice.
“Mrs. Tremblay?”
I slam my eyes closed and take a deep, shaky breath. When I turn around, I plaster a big smile on my face.
“Nicole!” I greet, hoping like hell I sound genuinely excited.
She moves in to kiss my cheek, and I use the gesture to grasp her elbows and steady myself, anchoring my body for an interaction I’m so not prepared to have right now.
“Ty mentioned you would be here. It’s nice to see you again.”
“Likewise.” She beams. “This is Brendan, one of the staff photographers. Has Tytus come out yet?”
I press my lips together and shake my head.
She grimaces. “I’m sure their coach had some words of wisdom to share after that one. What a loss.”
My lungs deflate, my shoulders lowering. “It was.”
She arches a brow, as if just now really taking me in. “You’re wearing number three tonight?”
I follow her gaze to my Holt Bolts jersey, internally cringing. “Oh. Number three is Atticus Davvies, my twin brother.”
“Ah!” She breaks into a delighted smile. “That makes sense. You had me worried there for a minute,” she laughs good-naturedly. “I’ve been going on and on at the office about what a great couple you and Tytus make. The entire staff and team are eager to welcome you both to Georgia.”
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.
He’s in immense pain.
“Nicole’s here,” I tell him. “Along with the photographer.”
He nods once in understanding.
“I’m going to hug you now,” I warn. We have an audience. They’ll expect it. “I’ll be careful.”
I unpeel myself from Atty’s embrace, then gingerly wrap my arms around Ty, only brushing the fabric of his suit jacket.
Despite my care, Ty stiffens and quietly groans. Then, in a move I know has to hurt something fierce, he wraps his arms around me and holds me tight.
I don’t dare pull back or try to wiggle out of his hold. I don’t want to hurt him further.
“You’re taking him to the hospital?” I ask my brother, turning my head to search Atty’s gaze.
He assesses me closely, eyes scrutinizing Ty’s prolonged embrace. With a scowl, he sighs. “Yeah. I’m taking him.”
Good. Knowing Ty, he’s downplayed the extent of his injuries more than a little. He needs real medical care.
Despite his discomfort, Ty shifts so his right arm is draped around my shoulders,
I don’t fight him, afraid I’ll hurt him further or cause a scene, but I do issue a low warning. “Don’t.”
He ignores my plea.
“I want Sawyer to take me,” he announces.
Huffing, I duck out of his hold.
He lunges slightly, his instincts kicking in, but quickly locks up again, grimacing.
“I can’t take you to the hospital. I have plans tonight,” I tell him coolly.
His already stony face goes harder. “With him?”
“With who?” Atty lifts his head and scans the people around us.
With a sigh, I stretch my neck from side to side and blatantly ignore the question. “Let me know what they say at the hospital. And please be honest with your coaches.”
Ty glares at me, though the look has nothing to do with my orders.
“Tough loss tonight, Tremblay,” Nicole says from behind me.
Sucking in a breath, I turn, noting that the photographer followed her over. And, I realize, so did Mercer.
Shit.
“Believe me, I’m feeling it,” Ty offers in a surprisingly light tone.
She gives him a genuine smile. “You’re okay, though? Everything checked out?”
It’s as if the opportunity has just dropped into my lap, so I eagerly take it. “He’s okay, but he’s going to be sore for a while. He’s actually heading to the hospital now for a thorough evaluation.”
Ty’s eyes flick to me, dark and angry, then back to Nicole. “Yeah. Sawyer offered to take me.”
“Ah.” Nicole swoons. “There’s nothing quite like young love.”
Panic flares in my chest, warming my neck and making my cheeks burn. If she continues that train of thought, if she mentions our alleged marriage in front of my brother, this charade will come crumbling down.
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.