Page 117 of Fighting Spirit

“What’s gotten into you, Ainsley?” Jed calls from across the room. He reaches back and grabs a towel to hurl our way. I dodge it and shoot him a glare, not wanting to think about whyit’s damp. I’ll miss being part of the team, but I’ll be glad to get out of this fuckin’ petri dish.

“Some gi-”

“Shut the fuck up,” I cut Jasper off, my voice quiet but laced with menace. He looks over in shock, not expecting that kind of reaction. I didn’t expect it myself, but I can’t have him turning this into a whole thing. I know these guys, once they get a whiff of something I’d rather keep quiet, they’ll turn into a pack of vultures around a carcass, not stopping until they’ve picked it clean.

“Sorry,” he mutters, and God do I feel like an asshole. It’s not his fault, but I need to knock this on the head.

Jed looks like he’s going to push the issue, but thank God for Fitz. Coach sweeps in like my guardian angel and gets going on one of his pre-game speeches. It’s hard to look at him, knowing I’m doing everything he warned me away from. He told me to be careful, to not do anything that could draw attention to the team after everything we’ve been through. The last thing this man needs is another potential scandal, and I’m bringing it right to his doorstep.

He starts the way he usually does: play with our hearts, act as one, remember the plays, but soon, he’s getting into territory that has my gut sinking.

“Allbreck think they’ve got this all sewn up, they think they can coast on their legacy and that nobody’s gonna threaten them, but I say fuck that!”

The guy’s cheer, but all I can do is stare at my clenched fists. Fitz continues, “We gotta get through this one game for our shot at showing those assholes what kind of team we’ve put together this year. We’re gonna teach them who the fuck we are, that we’re not just breathing down their necks, we’re way out in front. We’re gonna show them that they’re in a whole new league this time. This is a new era for Beaufort, and they’re not gonna knowwhat’s hit them! Now get out there and get this done so we can focus on the game that really counts.”

He gives a hard clap, dismissing the team, and the locker room descends into chaos. Backslaps and yelling, guys jumping up and down, and everyone doing the final checks of their gear before we head out of the tunnel and into the roar of the Beaufort home crowd.

By the end of the game, I’ve got a nasty set of bruises across my ribs, a gash on the back of my hand from someone’s boots, and a shirt made up more from sweat than fabric, but we fuckin’ won.

The atmosphere in the stadium is electric as we make it to our first conference final in seven years. I can barely hear my own thoughts over the sound of the packed house.

Every noise blurs into one until I almost go numb to it, like the sound of blood rising in my ears. I’m dimly aware of being jostled about as guys shake my shoulders in celebration, or knock into me in the post-game chaos. The crowd rushes the field and there are bodies everywhere, joy and anticipation and a little bit of fear take root as I try to fully comprehend what’s just happened. We’re in the God damn final. We’ve got a shot at the playoffs for the first time in my college career.

On my last year, my final chance, we made it.

But, though I’m loving every second of this moment, standing on the field as we try to soak it all in, I can’t help the nagging sensation at the back of my mind that something’s missing. I turn to see Darius sweeping his girlfriend into his arms, prompting whoops and yowls from the guys as he dips her in a deep kiss that leaves her blushing. I want that. I want Ruth here, to share this moment. The desire to have her next to me is so strong I can almost convince myself that I feel her hand in mine.

What the hell am I doing? I’m wasting all this time I could be sharing with her, all because I’m too much of a chickenshit to just talk to my team. What kind of a leader am I if I can’t have a conversation with them and trust them to hear me out? What does that say about our relationship if I feel the need to hide myself from them?

I don’t have the answers, but I do know that I need to get back to my girl.

I don’t waste time changing when I get back to the locker room, I just grab my shit and head out to my truck. Coach is going to bitch me out tomorrow for not sticking around, but right now, I couldn’t care less. It doesn’t take me long to get home and I bound up the stairs two at a time, desperate to see her.

I don’t know how I was expecting to find her, but it isn’t with Trevor in the kitchen, music blaring as he yells instructions from the coach.

“No! Use the other knife!” He drops his head against the armrest.

“They’re all the same!”

“Have you ever seen a utensil before?”

“Shut up! This is why you got banned from my kitchen!”

“Oh, it’s your kitchen now, is it?”

They’re arguing like children, and it feels like we’re seconds away from someone throwing something. With Ruth currently holding a knife the size of her forearm, I’m hoping she’s the one who keeps a cool head.

“What’s happening?” I interject.

“No!” Ruth yells, covering her face like that’ll stop me from seeing her. “You’re not meant to be back yet!”

Fuck, she’s cute.

I drop my stuff and walk over to her, bracing my hands on the island either side of her hips. “You’re not happy to see me?”

She doesn’t look out from where she’s hiding. “You ruined the surprise.”

I peel her hands away, revealing pink-stained cheeks and a scrunched-up nose I want to kiss. “What surprise, Frog?”

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