Page 50 of Ruthless Game

No.

I tried to shove him away, but it was like shoving a wall.

“Tell me, Lawson.”

“Call me, Max.”

“I will—if you tell me why now.”

He shut his eyes, leaning his forehead against mine. The sweetness in the gesture made the cruelty of his words worse.

“Because you’re so deep in my head, my goalie game has gone to shit. And no other girl will do it for me. I thought if I brought you back, if I got my own back against you, and if I finally got the chance to fuck you, I’d be able to move on.”

The air left my lungs, replaced with water as my mouth fell open and the shower stream filled it. I coughed, choking, tears swimming in my eyes as my throat burned, not from almost drowning. From his confession. A part of me had hoped that this was real, that in his own, fucked up way, Lawson had wanted me back.

I’ll never let you go, he’d said, but what he’d meant was, I’ll never let you go until I get my own back.

Or maybe it was, I’ll never let you go, because I’ll destroy you, piece by piece, until there’s nothing left.

I shoved my elbow in his side. With a grunt, he released me, and I stepped away from the shower, whirling around to turn my back to him, crossing my arms over my chest, like it would provide some sort of protection, buffer. I never should have bargained with my class to protect him. He didn’t fucking deserve it. I was the same pathetic girl I’d always been.

He grabbed my shoulder and pulled me around to face him, and I didn’t even bother to fight. Better to save my energy for what was to come.

“Starburst,” he tried.

“No, Lawson. You don’t call me that. You never get to call me that again. I want nothing to do with you. You broke my heart, and then you pulverized it into nothing. Until I felt like nothing. Worse than nothing. Well, you’re nothing to me now, Lawson. So whatever sick games you’re playing, play them with someone else.”

His grip on my shoulder deepened. Anger at my physical helplessness against him buzzed inside me, stinging like trapped, triggered bees.

“Don’t push me, Emma. You won’t like the outcome,” he said.

“You don’t scare me, David,” I said, calling him by the name he hated most. “I’m not that pathetic, scared little girl anymore who needed her boyfriend to fight her battles for her. I’ve been fighting my own for years. I’m going back to Oxford.”

He released me, stepping back with a flinch, like I’d slapped him.

Good. Fucking great, even. I wanted to slap him, but this would have to do.

“You’re forgetting something, Angel,” he warned. “You may be done, but I’m not. You leave, and Jeffrey pays the price. And I’ll leak that video.”

I felt the walls close in on me.

“Fine,” I said. “You want my body? You want to hurt me? Have at it. But that’s all you’ll have. And if you think you can torture me? I’ll torture you right the hell back. Prepare yourself, David Lawson. This is war.”

With those parting words, I stalked out of the shower, grabbing my bag, not caring that I was a soaked, bedraggled mess. I was getting the hell out of here.

Needing to have the last word, he called after me, “Come to the hockey house tonight. Pack a bag. You’ll be staying with me for a while.”

Refusing to give him a reaction, I left him behind, standing in the shower.

But as the door to the locker room swung shut behind me, I heard an anguished roar.

18

Lawson

(Then)

The ring was pathetic.