Page 66 of Ruthless Game

Terrible, I thought. Confused. Sick.

But I didn’t tell him any of that. I’d never talked to Jeffrey about my PCOS, not after that time he’d joked about sending me back to the group home. Hadn’t ever really talked about it with my parents, either. Didn’t want to be a burden. It had been Lawson who’d discovered me curled up in pain one day, coaxed me into talking to him, and then taken me to the doctor. It was Lawson who held my hand through the testing and appointments with the gynecologist. Who took care of me during flare ups. Hell, he’d had a little notes folder on his phone called “PCOS protocol” with a list of things I wanted or needed when my period cramps were horrible, or I felt like shit. I’d relied so much on him then, and god, I missed that.

Could I have that back? I yearned for it, like a shelter kitten probably yearned for physical affection.

“Fine,” I said shortly. “What did you want to talk about?”

Jeffrey peered at me, like he was trying to read me. “I don’t like this,” he finally said slowly. “I don’t like what being around Lawson is doing to you. You’re acting different. Pissy, snappy, erratic behavior. Distracted. Ignoring your family. Ignoring me. Where’s my sweet little sister with her brilliant smiles? Where’s my little Emma?” He’d been slowly moving closer to me, until all that was between us was the kitchen island. Reaching out a hand, he placed it on my cheek. “Unless you’re reserving all that sweetness for him.”

Shivers erupted down my neck, and not the good kind. A wild, absurd thought came to me: the only person who was allowed to touch my face this way was Lawson.

What the fuck?

I retreated, stepping back from the island. “She’s tired, Jeffrey. She’s doing what she needs to protect her family. Protect you. You don’t get to have it both ways: let me do your dirty work for you, and then be upset that I’m not here to give you the attention you seem to need so desperately.”

He softened. “I know. I know, Em. I’ve fucked up badly, and I’m digging myself out of it. I appreciate you, even though I want to fucking kill him for thinking he can put his hands on you. I’m so sorry, and I’ll make it up to you, I promise. And one of these days, Lawson will be nothing but a bad memory.”

I softened, too. This was the brother I knew. Imperfect, sure, but caring.

“It’s us, remember?” he said. “Looking out for each other, okay?”

“Okay,” I said.

“There’s my sweet sister.” He grinned at me. “Hang on a second, I have something for you.”

He disappeared, leaving me in the kitchen. I finally decided on some crackers and seltzer water, hoping it would calm my churning stomach. Either the PCOS symptoms were getting worse, or something in our conversation had triggered it. But it made no sense, we were okay now.

Jeffrey reappeared, holding a folded-up shirt in his hands. He shook it out, holding up a Tabb U Terrors jersey with his name and number on it—19. I’d never asked him why he’d chosen that number, because I knew. December 19 was the day I’d been adopted. The reminder that I was that important to him made me soften more.

“Can you do me a favor?” he asked. “Wear this tonight, for me? I know you’ll be sitting on the Reina side, and that fuckface probably wants you to wear his jersey, but mom and dad aren’t here and this is the first time I’ll be playing this season, maybe even the only time.” Darkness flitted across his features. “It would mean everything to have my sister’s support. I know I’ll play better.”

“Only if you do me a favor and quit it with the PEDs,” I told him.

“Deal,” he said brightly, like he didn’t even have to think about it.

Lightness filled me. It was worth it, giving myself to Lawson, to get my brother to make better choices. Worth it, to inevitably piss Lawson off, by wearing Jeffrey’s jersey.

Isn’t it worth it to have Lawson’s hands on you and get to sleep in his arms, period? A little voice in my head asked.

I chose to ignore it, even though the voice was probably right.

Taking the jersey from my brother, I pressed my hand to my roiling stomach. Fuck, I just wanted to lie down for a bit.

“Deal,” I said.

“Awesome.” He flashed me another endearing smile. “See you at the game, Em!”

And then he walked right out of the kitchen, not even bothering to ask if I was okay.

“Goddamnit,” Aviva groaned when Maya and I joined her and Tovah in our seats a row behind the team’s bench. “That doesn’t look like Lawson’s jersey.”

“Why would I be wearing Lawson’s jersey?” I asked, aware that my cheeks were heating.

“Because I was hoping you’d be smarter than me,” she said, scooching over to make room for me. “Let’s just hope Lawson’s not as unhinged as Jack when it comes to punishment.”

“Please,” Tovah scoffed, playing with a magenta curl. Her hair had been blue the last time I’d seen her. “Like you don’t love Jack’s punishments.”

My cheeks no longer felt warm. They burned. I didn’t know what kind of punishments Jack and Aviva were into, and I didn’t know her well enough to ask, but I certainly knew what Lawson and I were into. My pussy burned, too, a reminder that Lawson had edged me earlier and still had yet to let me come.