Page 72 of Ruthless Game

I let his care wash over me like a warm bath as he grabbed the hot water bottle and climbed into bed with me, pulling the covers up over us and gently dragging me against his chest. The heat of his bare skin against my back immediately relieved some of the ache, and the way he pressed the hot water bottle to my lower belly was so soothing, I could’ve cried from the relief. I did cry tears of gratitude because as much as I should hate him, he was here. Here, in ways no one else ever had been.

Someone knocked on the door.

“Come in,” Lawson called.

Isaac peeked his head through the door. “I have that tea you made. I need the name of it by the way, for Tovah.”

I craned my head to look at him through the fog in my eyes. “Tovah has PCOS?”

He shook his head. “Just really bad periods sometimes. But Lawson helped. You know he has a whole long list of things saved in his phone that help, right?”

“Still?” I asked. It had been so long.

Lawson kissed my neck, soft and sweet, like a promise.

“Always,” he murmured.

Isaac brought us the tea, told me to feel better, and left. Lawson maneuvered us around so I was leaning back against his chest. He blew on the tea, taking a sip to make sure it wouldn’t burn my tongue. Once he was satisfied, he pressed it to my lips.

“Sip slowly,” he instructed, and I obeyed him, marveling at the easy intimacy between us. So much had changed, and yet I felt like a teenager again, being protected from the world and my own body, by the love of my life.

Except he wasn’t that, not anymore.

“Shhhh, stop worrying. We’re okay,” Lawson said, reading my mind like he used to. “You’ll be okay. One more sip, and then you need to eat something.”

“No, no food, please,” I begged. “I don’t want to puke it back up.”

“Emma, if you don’t eat, you will puke. You need something in your stomach, especially because of the medication. Eat.”

He handed me a few saltines, and I munched on them, knowing he wouldn’t bend when it came to this. Once I’d eaten enough to satisfy him, he grabbed the remote.

“Real Housewives? Or Schitt’s Creek?”

“Schitt’s Creek,” I told him. “I don’t want drama.” Then, needing to know, I asked, “You really still have the ‘PCOS Protocol’ note in your phone?”

He sighed. “Forever and always. Even when I told myself I never wanted to see you again, I couldn’t get rid of it. I guess I knew we’d end up back up here.”

His words created a bittersweet ache in my chest, nothing like the cramping. I hated the reminder that he hadn’t wanted to see me again but knowing that some part of him couldn’t let go of us was a balm to that pain. I’d grieved us for so long, been angry for so long, it never occurred to me there might be a time where we could get past this.

Could we though? He still believed I’d cheated on him, and refused to hear otherwise. And then he’d cheated on me.

A sharp cramp reminded me now was not the time for this.

“Starburst, you’re crying again. What can I do?”

I didn’t want to tell him why. Instead, I said, “Just be here. You being here is enough.”

He kissed my hair, pushing the hot water bottle harder against my stomach, like he knew exactly what I needed at that moment. Because he did know exactly what I needed at that moment.

“Good,” he said. “Because I’m not going anywhere.”

I yawned, focusing on the TV screen, where Patrick serenaded David in front of an audience. It was my favorite episode, and Lawson had remembered. Of course he’d remembered. Why would I ever have thought differently?

“Did you win the game?” I asked.

“Yeah, baby, I won it for you, like I promised. 3–0. But Emma?” His voice turned almost hard. “Never, ever make me do that again. You’re in pain, I’m with you. I don’t care if it’s the Stanley Cup.”

“Okay,” I murmured, my eyes fluttering shut. I was so, so tired, and even though I hadn’t been able to sleep before, nestled in the safety of Lawson’s warm arms, sleep beckoned and I crawled toward it. “Why are you being so good to me?”