Page 133 of Fighting Spirit

Things have been alright between us. I think I realized how much I’d been pushing for something that wasn’t the right fit. Don’t get me wrong, I still love her, but we’re very different people. Maybe we end up being those college friends who drift out of touch and just send a card around the holidays, but I think I’m on the way to being okay with that.

Across the quad sits the imposing form of the academic services building. On an impulse, I dash across to it, slipping in and down the corridor. Christina’s door is ajar and I knock on the frame. Is this weird? Dropping by unannounced?

She looks up, and the warmth in her eyes immediately settles me. “Ruth, how did your exam go?”

My chest warms, she remembered. “Really good!”

“That’s wonderful news.” She sets down the pen she’s holding, hitting me with her full attention. “And did you feel like the extra time was a help?”

“Such a help.” I step further into the room. “I felt like I could breathe.”

“I’m so happy to hear that.”

“Honestly, everything you’ve done for me, it’s been amazing, you’ve kind of changed my life.”

“Take a seat.” She nods at the chair across from her. “Ruth, hearing that the new accommodations have been beneficial is wonderful, it’s why I do this job. But I want to be very clear, you’re the one who’s done this. These are your own achievements. I’ve been helping you get the things in place that you should have had all along, but that’s only happening because you’ve spoken up and started advocating for yourself. You should be incredibly proud of yourself. And for what it’s worth, I’m very proud of you.”

“Really?” I breathe out, knowing I sound like a smitten fool.

“I don’t say things I don’t mean.” She gives me a firm nod. “Now, I’m afraid I have to get back to work, but let’s get a meeting scheduled to check in on your progress.”

“Oh, sure, thank you,” I babble as I scramble up, my toe catching on her desk in my hurry to get out. “Shit, sorry.”

Christina chuckles. “Have a good afternoon.”

As I head out of the building, I feel like a fifty-pound weight has been lifted off of me. I’ve finally made some kind of breakthrough, all because I stopped beating myself with the idea that I just needed to work harder.

But even as I’ve never been prouder of myself for what I’ve done, I have to fight not to think about the man who made me brave enough to try.

“Ruth!” I look up to see a head of dark hair barreling toward me. I only make out Clara’s face right as she’s on me, wrapping me in a bone-crushing hug. “I went to the English building, but you weren’t there! I didn’t want to wait to celebrate!”

“Really?”

“Of course! I’m so proud of you!”

Oh shit, I can’t cry right now, not in the middle of campus.

I hug her back, not caring that her necklaces are digging into my collarbone. She’s here.

Chapter Fifty-Five

ROWAN

My fingers drum against the steering wheel as I look up at the stadium. I’ve been parked in the lot for twenty minutes, but I haven’t made it out of the truck. I need to get in there to start getting ready for the game, but it all feels too daunting right now.

I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I’ve never been the guy to get game-day jitters. It’s always been easy to compartmentalize so I can get out there and do my job on the field.

You know exactly what’s wrong,my brain screams at me, but I try not to listen. If I let myself think about the green-eyed girl who’s going to be on the sidelines today, then I’ll never make it through. The guys tried to help come up with ideas to get her back, but the best they could manage was sending someone to kidnap her again.

Even though their plans left a lot to be desired, they did help me realize one thing, I’m not fuckin’ done. If Ruth never wants to see me again, then fine, but I need her to hear me out. If nothing else, I don’t ever want her to feel like I didn’t think she was worth fighting for.

I’ll give her some space, wait until she’s had time to think, then I’m coming for her.

Right as my fingers hit the door handle, my phone buzzes in my pocket. I reach for it, fumbling as I try to get to it as fast as possible, same as I have been all week, just in case it’s her. My shoulders slump as I read the caller ID. Dad. I debate letting it go to voicemail, we haven’t spoken since we went to the game and Ruth tore him a new one, but I wonder if maybe telling him to fuck off will let out some of the tension I’m feeling.

“What?” I bark down the line.

“Hi.” His voice is softer than I’ve ever heard it, and nervous?

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