Page 134 of Play the Game

I nod, fully confident that I was the one who opened the door. “I’m so sorry. I had a nightmare…” A tear slips down the side of my cheek, and I turn away to hide it.

It was because I saw her.

Stop crying.

“Don’t do that.” Emory speaks so softly I hardly hear him.

I clear my throat after swallowing the tight lump in my throat. “Don’t do what?”

I’m doing my best to act unfazed, but I know it’s a pathetic attempt.

“Don’t shut me out. Let me be here for you.”

My chin wobbles as I contemplate running out the front door and never looking back, but I’m a realist, and I know I wouldn’t even make it out of the kitchen without Emory pulling me backward.

“I was trying to give you space earlier.” He grips my chin and brings me to look at him. “But you don’t need space.” He pauses. “You need me.”

The first thing that rushes to mind is how I don’t need anyone.

But the longer I stare into his calm eyes and the more his thumb brushes against my chin, the more I feel myself teetering.

It has nothing to do with trust.

I trusted him the moment I cornered him in the bathroom and tried to exploit him.

It’s about me being afraid to needsomeone, as much as I don’t want to admit that.

Emory pulls my face closer to his, and our foreheads rest against one another. “For better or for worse, Scottie. I took vows. Give me a chance to keep them.”

I pull away and stare into his eyes. I don’t worry about not crying, because it takes too much effort, and if I’m going to do this, I’m going to need all the strength I have left.

“Before I tell you everything, I need you to promise me something,” my voice croaks.

“Anything.”

It's surreal to see such a strong, willful man become so soft and genuine. It’s hard to believe that he wants to be like that with me.

“I don’t want you to try to fix it.” His eyebrows furrow, but I keep going before he interrupts me. “Promise me that nothingwill change. You and I have a deal, Emory. After a year is up and the contract ends, that’s when you pay me. Nothing changes.”

Otherwise, it’s too easy. No matter who Emory is to me, this is not his responsibility. We started this on simple terms, and I won't go back on them because he feels sorry for me.

He looks like he wants to argue, but instead, he nods. “Alright.”

Shutter jumps onto the counter, and I expect Emory to shoo him outside, but he doesn’t pay him any mind, not even when he climbs onto my lap and rubs his face against the back of my injured hand.

“William is my brother,” I start with the most important thing. “And he’s in prison.”

Emory’s tense shoulders loosen, and I furrow my eyebrows. “Why do you look…relieved?”

He sighs quietly. “With the way you said his name, I knew he meant something to you. I was afraid it was an ex.”

The smallest smile falls to my lips, but it only lasts a second.

Emory pulls the towel away before pressing it back down. He scoops me up into his arms and walks us over to the door. He shuts it with his foot, and as he’s walking us toward the stairs, I watch Shutter follow on quiet paws.

“You know Shutter is still in here, right?”

“Yes.” Emory places us both on the bed but keeps me on his lap. “He can stay.”

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