I Swear I Still Hate Him (Atlas Lawson) novel Chapter 150

Chapter 150

Atlas POV

Was she okay?

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Had she eaten?

Or was she curled up in bed with the door locked, phone clutched in her hand, replaying last night over and over like a broken reel?

I’d stocked the fridge with her favorite drinks. Left snacks out. Queued up her comfort movies on Netflix. I even made sure the damn throw blanket she liked was folded on the couch like that would magically keep fear away.

And still…

Fuck. I shouldn’t have gone.

I should’ve insisted. Even if she got stubborn, I should’ve been more stubborn. I should’ve stayed.

So why the hell did I…

A sharp nudge hit my shoulder.

I blinked and turned. Rhys was staring at me, brows drawn together, concern written all over his face. Not just Rhys. The whole table was looking at me. Coach. PR. A line of reporters. Cameras pointed right at my face.

Shit.

I straightened in my chair and forced my expression into something that didn’t scream my brain is currently a thousand miles away.

I cleared my throat, rubbing the back of my neck like I’d just been thinking about game stats instead of a woman who owned my whole damn heart.

“Sorry,” I said, looking at the reporter in front of me. “Can you repeat that?”

She smiled like she’d been waiting all day for me to slip.

“Of course, Captain Lawson,” she said. “With the Hawks game coming up, what’s the biggest focus for you and the team after tonight’s win?”

Okay. Normal question. I could do normal.

I leaned forward slightly, elbows on the table, giving my best professional face. Calm. Controlled. Captain,

“Honestly, it’s consistency,” I said. “We played a solid sixty minutes last week’s game, but the Hawks don’t give you breathing room. They’re fast, they’re physical, and they punish mistakes.

I nodded once, like I wasn’t internally dying.

“So our focus in practice is tightening the little things, cleaner exts, smarter changes, staying disciplined. We can’t give them power plays and expect to win.”

A couple cameras flashed. I kept my eyes steady.

“And I’ll say this,” I added, glancing down the table toward my gays. “I’m proud of the locker room right now Everybody s buying in. Everybody’s doing their job. That’s what wins games

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11:56 Wed, Feb 25 MOB

Chapter 150

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Coach gave a small approving nod. Rhys tapped my shoulder like. There he is.

Another reporter jumped in. “Atlas, you’ve been on an absolute tear this season, leading the team in points, big plays, clutch moments. What do you credit that to?”

I gave a short laugh. The kind you do when you’re trying not to sound like a jerk.

“I mean… I’m not doing it alone,” I said. “I’ve got guys setting me up, blocking shots, grinding in the corners. I just get the pretty part sometimes.”

From somewhere down the table, one of my teammates muttered, “He loves the pretty part.”

A few reporters chuckled.

I smirked, not even looking. “I heard that.”

Then I added. “But yeah, credit goes to the team. You look good when the whole group is doing the right things.”

The first reporter nodded, satisfied… then another one leaned in like she was about to ask something juicy.

And of course, here it came.

“Atlas,” she said, voice sweet, “fans are dying to know, any updates on your dating life? You’ve been pretty private, and there are always rumors.”

I felt Rhys shift beside me like he was trying not to laugh. I kept my face neutral, but my jaw tightened for half a second. Because the truth was, I wasn’t private…I was just stuck.

I gave the reporter a polite smile. The kind that gave her nothing

“Honestly,” I said, calm and steady, “right now I’m focused on hockey. That’s where my head’s at.”

“Just hockey?” she pressed, grinning.

Before I could answer, Greg leaned toward his mic and said, “He’s in a committed relationship with the rink.”

Caleb added, “And his dumbbells.”

Rhys chimed in with a straight face. “And his protein powder.”

The room laughed.

Even Coach’s mouth twitched, like he hated that he found it funny.

I shook my head, smiling despite myself. “Yeah, thanks. Appreciate you guys.”

Then I looked back at the reporter, voice smooth again.

“But yeah, no big updates. I’m locked in on the season.”

The reporter nodded, still trying to read between the lines.

Meanwhile, my phone buzzed in my pocket. And my heart jumped like an idiot. Because all I could think was…

Please let that be her.

Well… it wasn’t Emery. And now I was losing my damn mind. It was a miracle I’d kept it together through the press conference and the sponsor meeting. I smiled, answered questions, nodded like a captain, like a grown adult who had his life under control.

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11:56 Wed, Feb 25 MOB

Chapter 150

But the second it ended? I couldn’t do it anymore.

My skin felt too tight. My chest wouldn’t settle. Something in me kept screaming that something was wrong.

I walked up to Coach while the guys were already talking about heading out for dinner with the sponsors.

“Coach,” I said, keeping my voice even, “I’m not gonna make the dinner.”

He studied me. Not like a coach. Like a man who’d known me long enough to smell bullshit.

“You good?” he asked. “You’ve been… distant.”

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“Yeah,” I lied, because how the hell do you tell your coach your brain’s been consumed by one woman for ten years and it just got worse? “Just… stuff at home.”

Coach nodded slowly like he didn’t believe me, but he wasn’t the type to press into your personal life.

“Alright,” he said. “See you Monday. Practice at ten.”

“Sure thing,” I muttered.

I turned before he could ask another question, walked fast, and was in the car before my body could talk me out of it.

I drove to the airport like I was chasing something. Like I could outrun the dread in my gut. I made it. Thankfully. No delays, no nonsense. I didn’t waste time. I got on the jet, got home, and by the time the city lights came back into view, I was already gripping my phone like it was going to tell me if she was safe.

I told myself I was overreacting… Told myself she was fine. But the second I stepped into the penthouse and saw the shattered lamp and Emery on the floor… My heart broke.

She was shaking. Bare feet tucked under her. Hair damp. Only a towel wrapped around her like she’d grabbed it in panic.

Her eyes were squeezed shut, and she was whispering the same words over and over like prayer.

“Don’t… don’t hurt me… please… not here… please…”

I dropped to my knees beside her.

“Em.” My voice came out raw. “It’s me. It’s just me.”

Her body jolted at my voice. My throat tightened. Her hands shot out and clutched my shirt like she was drowning and I was the only thing keeping her above water.

“You’re…” she choked, barely able to speak. “You’re not supposed to be back…”

“I know,” I murmured, tightening my arms around her. “I came early.”

She shook her head, tears hot on her cheeks. “I thought…I thought…”

“I know,” I said again, softer, one hand cradling the back of her head. “I’ve got you. You’re safe.”

I held her until her shaking slowed and her breathing didn’t sound like she was fighting for air.

When she finally pulled back, her eyes flicked to the shattered glass.

“Sorry for the mess,” she whispered, voice small.

I shook my head immediately, brushing my knuckles gently along her jaw. “Em… I don’t give a damn about the lamp. I’d rather replace a hundred lamps than watch you scared like that

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11:57 Wed, Feb 25 MOB.

Chapter 150

Her lips trembled like she wanted to argue. Then her gaze dipped. And that’s when it hit me.

She was still in a towel.

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Her shoulders were bare, skin goosebumped from fear and cold. She looked so small like that, and it made something in my chest turn vicious.

Not at her…At the world. At the fact I’d left.

“Come on,” I said quietly.

I held out my hand. She hesitated, then placed her hand in mine I guided her down the hall and into her room like I was afraid she’d disappear if I let go. The moment we got inside, she went silent again. Like the panic had drained her and left

her hollow.

I kept my voice soft. “Do you want me to heat up the bath?”

She nodded once.

I forced a small smile like I wasn’t falling apart. “Okay,”

I took off my jacket and walked into the bathroom, turned the water on, checked the temperature twice, poured in the bubble bath she liked. I moved like it mattered, because it did.

When the tub was finally perfect, I walked back out.

“All set,” I said quietly. “Whenever you’re ready.”

“Thanks,” she whispered.

But she didn’t move. She just stood there, towel clutched tight, shoulders stiff, eyes unfocused like her body hadn’t caught up to the fact she was safe.

I stepped closer, careful not to crowd her.

“Talk to me, Em,” I said.

Her chin trembled.

She looked away, and her eyes filled again. “I… I just…” She swallowed. “It feels like I’m….” Her voice broke. “I don’t…”

I hated that she couldn’t get the words out.

Hated that she was alone inside her head with it.

My voice dropped. “Do you want me to help you?”

She froze.

Her eyes widened, like she was shocked by the offer… shocked by the gentleness of it.

For a second I thought she’d pull her mask back on. But this time she didn’t. She nodded. A small nod, but it hit me like relief. I exhaled hard, my shoulders loosening.

“Thank you,” I whispered.

A tiny laugh slipped out of her, broken and shaky. “You shouldn’ be thanking me? I’m.. I’m being too much

I shook my head, stepping even closer. “No.” My voice came out brm, almost angry, at the idea. “You can never be too much.

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Chapter 150

for me, Emery.”

Her lips parted.

I kept going, because it was the truth and she needed to hear it.

“And letting me help you?” I said quietly. “It feels like you’re finally being the Emery I know.”

Her eyes flicked up. “And what does that mean?”

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“It means you’re being you,” I said, voice softening. “Not the perfect mask. Not the smile you wear so nobody asks questions.” I swallowed. “The real you.”

Her mouth trembled.

“You mean the broken me,” she whispered.

That word hit me like a punch.

My hands rose to her cheeks, gentle but certain, making sure she looked at me.

“No,” I said. “I mean the human you.”

My thumbs brushed lightly over her cheekbones, wiping away tears as they fell.

“The you who doesn’t have to be okay every second,” I murmured. “The you who gets to feel things. Fear. Anger. Sadness.” My chest tightened. “Joy too, Em. I want all of it. I want you.”

She tried to look away again, but I didn’t let her hide.

“I want you to let me see you,” I whispered.

Her lower lip quivered. Then the tears started falling, quiet, steady, like she’d been holding them back for years. And I wiped them with my thumb as they came, my throat burning with a kind of tenderness that hurt.

“I’ve got you,” I said softly, forehead almost touching hers. “I’m right here.”

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