Page 75 of Ruthless Game

“Because I didn’t want to face it myself. Admit to it. It was easier to want other things.”

“Emma—”

“Lawson,” I begged. “Please.”

“Okay,” he said, his voice easy. “Okay. I’ll leave it alone for now. But Starburst, I’m going to help you, however I can. Today, tomorrow, twenty years down the line—I’m going to do what I can to support you through this.”

I didn’t want to hear his words, to let them leave their mark, but they did. Because his insistence, not only that he’d help, but that he’d be there with me, twenty years from now, soothed the jagged edges inside me, making it easier to breathe.

27

Lawson

Afew days later, I walked with Emma to swim class, my big hand wrapped around her tiny one. Emma had recovered from her flare-up and her near break-down in my car after the gyno appointment, but I worried. I’d left the topic alone, but I worried.

“You need to stop treating me like porcelain,” she complained as I lifted her in my arms so she didn’t step in a puddle.

“Nah,” I said, feeling pretty good about things between us, besides the big kids-related elephant in the room.

“Well, you’re going to get in the pool today and actually practice kicking on the kick board,” she told me.

I laughed. “Whatever you say, teach.”

Emma slapped my shoulder. “Don’t call me that. And you can put me down now.”

“Nah,” I said again.

“I’m too heavy,” she protested.

I raised my eyebrows. “To who? Me? Because to me, you feel the exact perfect weight in my arms. You aren’t too anything, Emma Schwartz, and if I hear that crap from you again, you’re never getting an orgasm—I promise you that much.”

“Mean.”

“No. I take care of my girl, and that includes not letting her talk shit about herself. I’ve told you before, I love your goddamn body. It makes me hard as fuck. It’s the only body that makes me hard.”

I love you, I wanted to add, but aside from a slip up the other night, I wasn’t ready to tell her that, especially because I didn’t know if she’d say it back. Jeffrey’s taunts had played on repeat in my head.

You’ve only got her through blackmail. I’ve got her forever.

What did I have to do, to make sure Emma remained in my arms and in my bed, without the threat of her brother’s destruction hanging over her head?

I squeezed her tighter to my chest. Because she wasn’t going any-goddamn-where. I didn’t know what I’d have to do to make that happen, but I would.

“Lawson, you have to put me down,” she laughed, wiggling against me. “Or I can’t teach our class.”

Reluctantly, I lowered her to her feet.

“See you in a few minutes,” she said.

I followed her into the building, parting ways at the locker rooms. Inside, I stripped down, putting on my swim shorts. As I placed everything in my locker, my phone buzzed. Assuming it was one of my teammates, I grabbed the phone.

There was a social media link from an unknown number. Something told me not to tap on it, that nothing good could come of whatever had just been sent to me, but I guess history repeats itself, because a moment later I was pressing my finger to the link, and the video loaded.

I recognized the first part of it immediately. My body seized up as I watched a guy, his back to me, grip Emma’s blonde curls as he thrust into her from behind. I tried to slow my breathing, to remind myself that this was the past, but I was still that boy with the ring box in his hand, watching the love of his life get fucked by some other random douchebag hockey player. Rage filled me, and I was about to swipe out of it, when the scene changed. A younger version of myself stumbled, two girls on either side of me. One kissed my neck, leaving splotches of purple lipstick, while the other unzipped my jeans. My eyes were fluttering open and closed.

You pathetic asshole. Real men can’t be taken advantage of.

You wanted it, didn’t you? Wanted to get back at her.