Page 113 of Fighting Spirit

Her relationships with two of the most important people in her life have blown up, and I can’t do anything except stand here and try to keep her from falling apart completely.

I scoop up a discarded tote bag from the floor and start rummaging through her drawers, pulling out socks and underwear before starting on clothes. I don’t know why the urge to take her home with me is so strong, but it feels like the only course of action is to tuck her away at my place where she can properly decompress.

I don’t need bathroom stuff. I bought some of everything I thought she might need when we started dating, but I want her to have comfortable things to wear.

When I’ve got a sufficient overnight bag, I kneel down in front of Ruth. She hasn’t moved from where I put her and my heart breaks at the vacant look in her eyes. It’s as if she’s totally retreated inside her body to try and get away from this night.

I run a gentle hand up and down her calf. “You wanna get changed before we go?”

She looks down at me with those red-rimmed eyes, and I want to burn this apartment building to the ground. I want to go out there and scream at Georgie that she has no idea what the fuck she just threw away, that she’s made the biggest mistake of her life.

I certainly want to track down that piece of shit Marshall and snuff out his sorry excuse for an existence. The rage I felt when Ruth told me what he did was so strong it kind of scared me. I’ve never thought I was a man capable of murder, but I’d happily make an exception for him.

“We’re going?” Her nose scrunches slightly.

“Yeah, sweetheart.” I give her ankle a squeeze. “I’m taking you back to my place.”

“Okay.” Her eyes are blank and I wonder how much she’s hearing me.

I have to swallow down everything I’m feeling so I can take care of her. As much as I want to rage and scream, none of that matters for as long as she needs me. I pull off both of her shoes and help her out of the dress she wore to the event. She opts for leggings and an old t-shirt that I left here one night; the sight of her in my clothes does something to me that I store away for a moment when she hasn’t just had her world shattered.

When I get her coat over her shoulders, she finally speaks.

“Why can’t I just be somebody’s first choice?” The words are so broken, a whisper pulled from the most wretched part of her soul, and I can’t help the tear that tracks down my cheek.

You’re my first choice,I want to say.My first, my only, the best choice I ever made. I’d live with you on the moon, under the sea, in a treehouse fifty feet high, and I’d never get tired of you, never stop thinking how I’m the luckiest bastard in the world to get to see you every day, because I’m so God damn inlove with you that it’s nearly killing me. I don’t know who the fuck decided to put you in my path that night, but I wish I did so I could tell them they sent me the girl that turned my world upside down in the best possible way. Youmakeme Ruth, you make me whole, you make me happy, you’re fuckin’ everything to me, and any kind of life that you’re not in is a pale imitation now that I’ve seen the real thing.

But I can’t tell her any of that. Not tonight, not when she wouldn’t believe me.

I get her into the car and on the road without issue. She seems content to just go where I lead her and fuck me if her trust doesn’t make me feel about eighty feet tall.

I send Trevor a quick message to let him know we’re on our way and that Ruth’s had a rough night. His replies ping in within seconds.

Trevor

Does she want hot chocolate?

I’m gonna go get some almond milk

does she want marshmallows?

Rowan

get whatever else you need to feed her for a few days, DON’T MAKE HER SICK AGAIN I’ll pay you back.

Trevor

DID YOU ASK HER ABOUT MARSHMALLOWS

I lock the device and my hand moves of its own accord, finding a place to settle over the curve of Ruth’s thigh. As I steer the truck toward Beaufort, I sneak glances at her. She’s propped up with an elbow against the window, her head slumped against the glass. I feel so helpless I could scream, but at least once I get her home, I can try and figure out what I’m meant to do.

A fizzing feeling starts in my chest, something unruly and unnamed, like a shaken-up soda can, or a wasp against glass, as I fully acknowledge what had been just a fleeting thought.

I love her.

I’m in love with her.

I don’t know when it happened, how I didn’t notice it before, but it doesn’t feel new. I thought it would scare me, but even though it should, even though there’s a complete shitshow out there, a hundred reasons why nothing between us should make sense, sitting in the truck with the girl I love, I can feel my priorities shifting like a physical sensation.

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