Page 69 of Ruthless Game

I wanted to drop my gloves and take a swing at him for that bullshit, but my eyes caught on Emma and held. I had a woman to dress.

“Lawson, where the fuck are you going?” Coach yelled. The rest of the team was headed toward the locker room, but I had my sights set on someone else. I skated over to the stands and jumped the door that led into the stands. I was heavy, my pads and skates heavier, but I was determined. I landed directly in front of Emma. Yeah, I was showing off a bit. Or a lot. And fuck, I’d probably get in a lot of shit for this. But I wanted to impress her before I dragged her off to somewhere private.

“Lawson,” she gasped. There was a light sheen of sweat on her face, and her eyes were glassy. That internal alarm got louder. “What are you do⁠—”

I didn’t give her a chance to finish her sentence, leaning down to pick her up. The plan had been to throw her over my shoulder, but in the last second, I changed my mind and scooped her into my arms.

There were surprised murmurs, Coach was still yelling, but I ignored him as I carried her back down the steps and into the tunnel, toward the locker room.

“Lawson, you can’t—” she protested.

“What’s wrong?” I asked immediately.

But I already knew. How had I missed the early warning signs? Had I been so distracted by her perfect body this morning, I hadn’t noticed she wasn’t feeling like herself? Emma had PCOS, which gave her terrible cramps, headaches, and made her puke. I’d spent so many hours holding her tight in bed, massaging her back, bringing her soup, magazines, watching whatever dumb reality TV show that would distract her. Hell, I had a whole protocol for the thing, in case it was bad and now I was so worried, I blanked on what to do. I’d begged her to tell her parents, and threatened more than once to tell them myself, but Emma was adamant she handle it alone.

I would never let her do that. Not then, and not now.

God, how many flare-ups had I missed over the years? How many times had she had to suffer in silence, without me to take care of her?

“It’s okay, baby, I’ve got you,” I murmured, bringing her into the locker room. It wasn’t a great spot for her, noisy and bright, with nowhere comfortable to sit, but we’d only be there for as long as it took for me to change into my street clothes and take her home. I’d get fined for missing the rest of the game, but Asher could take over. It didn’t matter how well I’d been playing. It didn’t fucking matter that the whole point of bringing her back to Gehenom had been to get her out of my system so I could play the way I’d been playing tonight.

“You don’t have to—” she protested again.

“I’ve got you,” I said, voice firm.

My Starburst was what mattered. End of story.

“Lawson, what the hell?” Asher said as I walked into the locker room on my skates, Emma nestled in my arms.

“You’re getting ice time,” I told him. “Emma’s sick. I’m taking her home.”

Isaac and Jack, one straddling the bench, the other leaning against the lockers, eyed me.

“Is this the girlfriend with PCOS?” Isaac asked quietly. To the question in my eyes, he answered, “Tovah doesn’t have it, but I know the signs of a really bad period coming on.”

I remembered. Isaac had found Tovah balled up on his bathroom floor, crying out in pain, one night, and had sent for reinforcements. I’d had the experience, so I’d helped. It was what brought me into the inner circle of the “Core Four +,” although I’d been glad to help, regardless.

“I think I missed something,” a deep voice said behind me. I turned to look at Coach, who was eyeing me. “Are you the coach now? Is that why you’re telling my players who’s on the ice and who isn’t? Because I don’t remember saying anything of the sort.”

In my arms, Emma moaned. “I’m fine,” she lied.

“You aren’t.”

“Oh, right. Why is there an unsanctioned woman in my locker room?” Coach asked.

“She’s in pain,” I said shortly. “Sick. I’m taking her home.”

“I see. So she’s the woman you went after.”

I nodded.

Coach steepled his hands under his chin. “As much as I’d love to let you go take care of her, son, rules are rules.”

I resisted reminding him not to call me son.

“I’ll pay the fine—” I started.

He shook his head. “No. The NCAA changed the rules. You leave the game, you forfeit your next five games. Not to mention, the Beasts’ scout is here.”