Page 73 of Ruthless Game

As I drifted off, I thought I heard him say, “Because, despite everything, I still love you.”

26

Emma

“Emma?”

A physician’s assistant in scrubs stood at the door to the clinical rooms, scanning the waiting area.

Lawson squeezed my hand, pulling me up to stand. “That’s us,” he called.

I looked at him. “You’re coming back there with me?”

There was a small, worried smile on his face, like he was afraid I’d say no.

“If you want me to.”

I squeezed his hand in answer, tugging him behind me toward the door.

It was a few days after my PCOS episode. Lawson had nursed me back to health and pulled strings to get an appointment with a new gynecologist, including season tickets to Kings’ games for the doctor and her wife, who turned out to be huge fans. I’d told him I could manage getting to the appointment on my own, but he’d insisted on coming, getting permission to miss practice, and he was so adamant he at least accompany me to the clinic, I hadn’t been able to say no.

And now, here we were.

In the exam room, I answered basic questions, let the PA take my height, weight, and blood pressure, all while aware of Lawson standing in the corner, his eyes on me, focused but soft, reminding me he was here if I needed him, but wouldn’t intrude. It was light years different from the cruel college student who’d first confronted me in Oxford, and even different from the eager boy he’d once been. This was a man, tender, caring, attentive—a calming support in a time of massive upheaval. I wanted to know him, wanted to touch him. Not even sexually, just feel the comfort of his solid body against mine.

As if he’d read my mind, when the PA left us alone to wait for the doctor, he crossed the room, sitting on the exam table and lifting me into his lap.

“What’s going through your head?” he asked.

“A lot,” I admitted.

“Like?”

“Like I’m grateful you brought me, glad I’m finally addressing this, and scared as hell about what she’s going to say.”

I played with a fray on my dress, leaning back against his body to absorb his warmth, but staring straight forward. It felt too vulnerable to twist my neck around to look at him right now.

Wrapping his arms tight around my waist, Lawson pressed his lips to my hair.

“I’ll always take you to things like this. I’m an asshole, but I’m yours, Emma,” he said. “I’m also glad you’re finally addressing this. And whatever she says, we’ll face it together.”

There was a knock on the door, and a moment later, the doctor entered the room. She was older, in her sixties, with kindness in her brown eyes.

“Emma, it’s nice to meet you.” Glancing at me in Lawson’s lap, she smiled wider. “And this is your hockey star, huh?”

“I’m her boyfriend, yes,” Lawson said. “Boyfriend first, hockey “star” second. Thanks for seeing us, doc.”

The doctor’s eyes twinkled. “Do you want Boyfriend Comma Hockey Star in the room with us, or do you want him to wait outside?”

I inhaled Lawson’s sage and salt scent, letting it settle me. “In the room.”

She nodded, coming to sit in the chair across from the exam table. “Emma, PCOS is unfortunately a lifelong condition. Now, you say it’s gotten worse?”

Tears filling my eyes, I nodded, throat too tight to speak.

She softened further. “I know how painful and difficult it can get. There are new medications—metformin is typically used to treat diabetes, but it’s been found to regulate periods and help with pain. It’s not always covered by insurance⁠—”

Lawson interrupted. “She doesn’t have to worry about that. I’ll pay for it.”