Page 37 of Fighting Spirit

“I’m not sorry.” She stares me down.

I meet her eyes head-on. “You have nothing to be sorry for.”

“You’re not mad?”

“Why the fuck would I be mad?” I straighten up.

“I got your team in trouble.”

“They got themselves in trouble,” I say, my voice leaving no room for argument.

I watch Ruth’s fingers pull at a loose thread in the comforter. “Honestly, I’m kinda surprised that Beaufort did anything,” she says.

“Fitz doesn’t let shit like this slide. He’s a good man.”

“I’m sure he is. I just know how this kinda thing usually goes.” She looks dejected and I hate that she’s probably right to be.

“He’s not like that.” I wouldn’t work for him if he was.

“Did you get in trouble?”

“No, they know how it all went down.”

“Okay.” She seems relieved.

“Were you worried about that?”

“Well, yeah.” She gives me a look like I’m stupid. “You really took care of me. You didn’t have to, but you kind of made the whole thing bearable; I don’t want you to end up getting punished.”

“I didn’t mind taking care of you.” It’s true. I feel like I spend my life taking care of everyone I know; the guys always want something, and my mom’s always freaking out about the way my dad and I fight. I should be happy to have a sort-of-friend who never needs me, but instead, I find it endlessly frustrating that she won’t just let me fix her fuckin’ problems for her.

I turn back to the curtain rail, wanting to get away from this line of conversation. “Why didn’t you call your landlord?” I ask. The apartment’s off campus and doesn’t look like it’s owned by the university. I picture her dealing with some shitty landlordand my muscles tense. Trevor and I lived in a place last year owned by this guy who kept cutting the heat to try and save money, claiming we didn’t need it overnight as we were only sleeping. The experience forged us as friends, but it made the year shitty.

“I think she’s sick of hearing from me.” Ruth forces out a chuckle.

“Why would she be? It’s her job, right?”

“Well, sure, but at the rate I’m breaking stuff, I’m gonna get evicted next time I call.”

“That’s bullshit,” I say more forcefully than I mean to. At least it gets Ruth to look up at me, hitting me full in the face with those sad green eyes. “It was an accident, right?” I step closer, aware I’m crowding her, towering over where she sits on the bed. I feel like shit that I didn’t believe her earlier. The whole thing just seemed so unlikely.

“Sure.”

“Sure?” I raise an eyebrow.

“Yes. Yes, it was an accident.”

“Then it’s not an issue. And I’m sorry I didn’t believe you.”

“It’s just…” She trails off. “I feel like I get into a lot of accidents. I don’t want to be that person who always needs someone to clean up their messes.”

“You’re not.”

“We’ve hung out twice-”

“Are we counting the kidnapping as a hangout?” I fail to hold in my smirk.

“Not the point,” she deadpans. “We’ve hung out twice, and now you’re here, putting my apartment back together after another one of my calamities.”

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