Page 23 of End Game

She’ll bleed out emotionally while insisting she’s fine.

She’ll make a joke. Change the subject. Ask you if you’re okay.

Ask me how I know.

Then Micah told me where Cami was and what Griffin had told him…

Don’t get me wrong, I’m absofuckinglutely elated that Ronan finally gave in to everything he has been fighting, but…

Under literally any other circumstances, I’d be doing a victory lap around the kitchen because fucking finally.

But tonight?

Tonight it feels a little too much like two people who are both falling apart deciding orgasms might count as emotional first aid.

Honestly? It’s a lot like when she took Griffin to bed for the first time. It was an emotional, physical, and sexual solution to a problem that needed more than that.

It’s a quick fix.

A band-aid on a bullet wound.

Sex can make you forget the hole for a minute.

Doesn’t mean you’re not still bleeding.

The second I made her look at me, I knew.

Because I’ve worn that exact fucking smile.

I’m fine. Please believe me so I can believe me too.

She saw that I recognized it.

And that was that.

So… now we’re here.

Cami crying on my shoulder.

Micah and Ronan both a little unsure of what to do with themselves.

I catch Ronan’s eyes over her shoulder and wink.

His brows pull together.

Jesus Christ. I’m not flirting with you, Dungeon Daddy. I’m telling you I’ve got her.

Apparently our nonverbal communication still needs work.

As her sobs start to dissipate, Micah clears his throat.

“Princess?” he begins quietly. “I have your orange juice.”

She looks at him as she pulls back from my shoulder, wiping her eyes.

Sniffling, she wipes her nose and then laughs.

“Here,” Ronan offers quickly as he hands her a paper towel.