Page 81 of Ruthless Game

“Sure, lay it on me,” I grumbled.

“I’m starting to understand why, though,” he continued. “I always assumed the reason you kept your mouth shut about what Coach Jensen did to me was because you wanted my spot on the team.”

“It was,” I said, even as dread filled me. He was staring at me, through me, seeing things I wouldn’t even recognize in the mirror I bet.

“No, it wasn’t. If you admitted what that asshole did to me, you’d have to admit what those girls did to you. Wouldn’t you?”

“Those girls didn’t do shit I didn’t want them to do,” I told him, as my heart raced. I wanted to throw him through the wall, rip out his tongue, so he’d fucking shut up. “I was pissed at Emma and wanted to get back at her, and they were the easiest way.”

He nodded. “I’m sure it started that way. And hell, that’s a safe thing to tell yourself, isn’t it? I tried the same thing at one point: I wanted it, I asked for it, it was my fault. Society tells women that they asked for it, no matter what. But it tells us that we fucking better have asked for it, or we aren’t men at all. Any reminder of that could set someone off, even if it turned into yelling horrible things at the person they love most.”

My voice was thick. My throat hurt. “You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about, Gold.”

He shrugged. “Maybe. But maybe it’s food for thought. Look, I don’t know what it’s like to love someone like that, and I have no interest in finding out. But I do know that losing that is really fucking idiotic. More food for thought.”

Before I could punch him, he was off the bed and out the door.

I fell back against the bed, his words echoing in my head. They led to a dark, deep hole I had no interest in crawling into, because if I did I’d never come back out. But he was right about one thing. I loved Emma, and I’d ripped her apart over the past. Was I still angry? Yes. Would I always be angry? Maybe. But did I need to forgive her before I lost her? Absolutely. I didn’t apologize easily, or well, but I was going to have to, or Emma would be on the next flight to London.

I knew where she’d be. The last place I wanted to be was back at that pool, but Emma swam when she was upset, and hell, I had upset her. I pushed open the door to the pool, greeted by silence.

Was she not here? Had she gone home, or was she actually on her way to the airport?

I turned to go, when I spotted something at the bottom of the pool.

Not something. Someone. Emma’s blue swim cap, her body curved, sitting on the bottom of the pool.

Fuck, she was drowning.

Was she trying to drown herself intentionally? Is that what I’d done to her?

“Shit, shit, shit,” I chanted, trying to figure out what the fuck to do. I couldn’t swim, so all I’d do is sink to the bottom with her, but I couldn’t leave my Starburst there. Wouldn’t.

I started yelling at her.

“Emma, what the fuck are you doing? Emma, come up here! Emma, I swear to god, if you’re trying to kill yourself, I’ll drag you back to life, kicking and screaming. Don’t you do this to me. Don’t do this to yourself. I know I hurt you, and I’m sorry, but I can’t lose you. Please, god, Emma, come back up to the surface.”

Nothing.

Fuck, well, guess I was dying with her.

Kicking off my sneakers and ripping off my sweatpants so neither weighed me down, I jumped into the pool.

Immediately, I started to sink. Splashing my arms around to gain some buoyancy, I paddled closer to where I’d seen her, gasping for breath. Hopefully I’d be able to take in enough air to push off the bottom and heft her above me.

So I let myself sink, blinking underwater, ignoring the way my lungs burned and my body panicked in the last possible place I’d ever wanted to find myself again.

Imgonnadieimgonnadieimgonnadie …

And then suddenly Emma was swimming up, like the angel I called her, complete with a blonde halo, staring at me, grabbing my waist, and dragging me up to the surface.

I broke through the water, gasping for air. Emma tugged me toward the edge of the pool.

“What the actual fuck, Angel?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” she said. “Are you trying to die?”

“Me? Was I trying to die?” I gaped at her as I grabbed the ledge and pulled myself out of the pool. “You were the one trying to drown yourself. Goddamnit, Emma, what were you thinking? I can’t lose you.”