Page 19 of Fighting Spirit

When I first showed up at Beaufort I was a scared kid with no friends. I’d gone against my dad for the first time in my life by choosing this team, and I didn’t know what the fuck I was doing. The guys gave me someplace to belong, a family. I owe them everything, and that fact that they’re pulling away from me feels like a knife in the gut.

The house smells of stale takeout and unwashed workout gear as I pull the front door open, and I thank myself for the hundredth time that I don’t have to live here anymore.

“Christian?” I call out.

The sound of heavy footsteps thunder down the stairs as he rounds the corner, his dark twists flopping over his excited puppy expression. “Hey, man!”

Even the coldest bastard would crack if they saw that face. “You got something to show me?”

“Let me grab my phone.” He spins on his heel and charges back up the stairs, leaving me in the front hall. I move into the living room and sit on the couch, careful to avoid the spot with the broken springs.

Christian crashes around upstairs, I picture him digging through all his shit to try and find the phone. God damn, that kid. Some days, I’m tempted to strap his belongings to him; I’ve seen him lose everything he’s ever owned.

The front door opens again and Darius strolls in before stopping short as he sees me. His head whips around like someone’s about to jump out and I wonder for a second if he’s going to bolt. “Hey, Rowan,” he finally chokes out.

“Darius.” I give him a nod.

He shuffles from foot to foot, looking anywhere but me until he finally settles. “Hey, I actually wanted to say I’m really sorry about-”

“It’s fine,” I cut him off, knowing where he’s going. Darius is a nice guy and I appreciate him apologizing, but he knows as well as I do that it’s not him I’m pissed at. “Don’t mention it, Darius.”

“I just feel really-”

“I know you do,” I cut him off. “But honestly, it isn’t me you should be talking to.”

“I know,” he sighs, “I want to. But how would I even get in touch with her? I can’t exactly go talk to her at the game.”

I shrug in agreement. Ruth deserves an apology from the team, but having it all come out at the game would only cause problems, especially if the Allbreck guys got wind of what happened. That is if they don’t know already.

A thought occurs to me and I sit up, resting my elbows on my knees. “They’ve got social media accounts for the Toad.”

“Like, slide into her DMs?” He shoots me a mischievous grin.

I throw a cushion at him. He dodges it and it sails past him, crashing into the table by the door. The whole thing tips precariously for a minute and it looks like it’s all going to come crashing onto the floor. Luckily, Darius is a starter for a reason. He’s fuckin’ fast and manages to catch the edge and right itbefore it can totally topple over. The only thing he can’t save is something big and green that hits the floor with a muffled thud.

“Oh shit,” he huffs, bending down to pick it up. “Ro?”

My heart leaps into my throat as I see what he’s holding. Two green gloves, felt strung between each oversized finger to form webbing. Shit. Those are Ruth’s gloves. The ones I pulled from her hands whilst sitting way too close, noticing the feel of her under my palm way too much. I quickly stand, crossing to take them out of his hold.

“Fuck, okay.” I frown. “I’ll deal with this.”

“Shouldn’t we just throw them out or something?”

“No,” I snap. I know that I should, that I should just forget I ever saw them and move on from that night, but I can’t quite go there. “I’ll deal with it.”

“Are you sure? I can-”

“I got it, man.” I pull my jacket back on, giving him a quick slap on the shoulder as I pass to the door. “Tell Christian I’ll catch him some other time.”

“You’re going now?”

“Yeah.” I don’t give him any more than that, not sure I even can. I don’t understand the urgency that’s suddenly roiling through me, but it’s all I can think about. I need to get these back to her. I need to feel like I’ve made at least one small thing right from that night, and the thought of anyone else returning these makes my teeth ache from clenching my jaw.

By the time I’m back in my car, I’ve got the app open and I’m tapping out a quick message, hoping that Ruth runs the account herself and that it’s not some marketing manager on the sports administration.

@ainsleyrow_

Looking for something?

---