Page 80 of Ruthless Game

“Lawson.” The correction whipped through the room, scarring me.

I forged ahead, kneeling on the floor beside him and grabbing his big hands in my small ones. “Max, we love each other. Think about it. You know I wouldn’t do anything like this to you, ever. You know who I am. Please, please, believe me.”

He ripped his hands away, leaving mine feeling empty.

So empty.

“Ralphie confirmed it. Why would he lie?”

“Max—”

“Do. Not. Call. Me. That.”

He scrambled to his feet.

“I’m gonna find somewhere else to stay for the summer. I need to get out of here. I can’t look at you, can’t smell you. Just sharing air with you makes me want to puke.”

“Lawson,” I tried to give him what he needed. “I need you to believe me.”

He looked down at me, kneeling on the floor, and placed a hand on my cheek.

“Why would I believe a whore?”

“No, please⁠—”

But he was already slamming out of my bedroom, leaving me sobbing on the floor, surrounded by burning candles, flower petals, and the broken pieces of my heart.

30

Lawson

“Hey.”

I didn’t even bother to answer Asher as I sat on my bed, flipping the engagement ring box open and closed, relishing in the sharp snap when it shut on my finger. I deserved a hell of a lot worse.

“I made dinner,” he said. “Is Emma joining you, or have you successfully destroyed any hopes of a reconciliation because you’re such a goddamn asshole?”

“How’d you hear?”

He snorted. “Lawson, everyone on campus heard about how you tore her apart after that video went viral. At least I know now why you’ve been so fucked up over her. So she didn’t just cheat on you, you …” he trailed off.

“Cheated, too,” I said, snapping the ring box closed again. It was leaving a dent on my knuckle.

Asher cleared his throat.

“That’s what you’re calling it? That you cheated, by choice?”

“What the hell else would you call it?”

He exhaled, harsh and low. “What I want to call it is something you may not be ready to hear.”

“Dude, I don’t want to hear shit about what you’re going to say.”

“Oh?” He joined me on the bed, sitting on the corner to leave me space, but still taking up too much room. Asher was taller than me by a few inches, a huge hulking goalie, and for a moment, I felt … small.

Not even because of his presence, even if I wanted to tell myself that. I couldn’t get the look on Emma’s face out of my head, the way she’d curled in on herself like she was in pain. Pain worse than the PCOS brought. And I’d done that. I’d done that to her, to us. Because of a goddamn video from something that had happened years ago.

“You’re a real asshole, you know that, right?” Asher said.