Page 46 of Fighting Spirit

“Okay, Coach.” He laughs, knocking his shoulder into mine before jumping off the bench and running toward a cluster of guys from the practice squad.

Coach.Fuck. It’s not the first time Christian’s said it to me, and I know he doesn’t mean anything by it. He was teasing me like this long before word got around that I’m going staff next year, but it’s another reminder that things will never go back to how they used to be.

I’m not an idiot. I’ve always known things were going to change when I accepted the coaching job. I just thought I’d have more time. All I want is one last season with my friends, playing my favorite game. But it’s like my time as a student-athlete is already gone. As hard as I’m trying to cling onto it, it’s like holding steam in my fist.

Maybe that’s why I’ve been chasing this thing with Ruth so hard. She doesn’t seem to want anything from me. She doesn’t treat me like my year’s already over, I’m just a regular guy to her. Every time she gives me shit or shoots me that big, dimpled smile, it feels like I’m getting back some of the time that’s going by so fast.

I pull my phone from where it’s stashed under the bench and furiously refresh my messages, hoping that something’s changedin the last hour and she’ll have sent me some meme or a bullshit question about home repairs.

Nothing.

“Ainsley!” Fitz’s voice booms across the field. “Get over here!”

I start walking across the field toward him until he raises an eyebrow, the walk turning into a run until I’m just feet away from him.

“Coach?”

“Where’s your head at, son?” He frowns, crossing his arms over his chest. “You’ve been four eggs short of a chicken all morning.”

“Sorry.” I hang my head, pissed I’ve let my emotions affect my game. No matter what’s been happening in my life, I’ve always managed to keep it off the field, but apparently, Ruth’s upending everything.

“Don’t be sorry, just tell me what’s eating you.”

I don’t know how to explain it. I can’t exactly tell him that my mind’s been stuck somewhere else, or he’ll have a whole bunch of questions I really don’t want to answer.

“Look.” Fitz steps closer. “I need you to be a leader, son. We’ve got a big weekend coming up.”

“I know, sir.” On Saturday, we’re playing Allbreck for the first time this season, and there are rumors that their team isn’t what it has been. This could be our first chance to beat them on the field in a long time, and you could cut the tension with a knife. We all need to be on top form, and that means not messing with anybody’s head.

It isn’t that I don’t trust the guys to know about my friendship with Ruth. I just know most of them have a chip on their shoulder when it comes to Allbreck. They wouldn’t take it well, and with things already strained between us, I don’t want to give them any excuse to create more of a wedge.

Besides, as Fitz said, I need to tread carefully to avoid dragging the team into a harsher spotlight than we’re already in. If I’m coming clean, then it’s got to be done at the right time, and in the right way. Anything that looks even a little bit like a member of the coaching staff getting close to a student could be bad news for everyone.

“Get to it then.” He turns on his heel to talk to our offensive line coach, effectively dismissing me.

“Rowan!” Darius yells at me. “Dude, can you help me out?”

I jog over to him. He wants to go through some positioning on his tackles; Fitz had been riding him during practice, and for good reason. Darius is going to make one hell of a player, but he’s untrained. All that raw talent could go to waste if someone doesn’t help him rein it into check.

As much as I hate the way my friendship with the team has changed, coaching is still my dream job. There’s something special about watching someone you care about get better with every game, taking notes you give them, and turning into a player performing to their fullest potential.

Darius and I run through a couple things before Fitz calls us to huddle up. All thoughts of Ruth are forgotten as we start a practice game, the energy on the field crackling at the thought of our next real opponents being the team we’ve been chasing after for so long, finally ready to put them in their place.

Chapter Nineteen

ROWAN

There’d been talk that Allbreck was past its prime, but I didn’t want to believe it until now. We’re fourteen points up after the third quarter, and their defense is flagging. I’m almost waiting for the other shoe to drop. After three seasons unable to touch them, it’s a little hard to convince myself that it’s true.

We’ve talked about their lineup, about how all their best players graduated last year and they haven’t had an easy time filling the roster, but nothing could have prepared me for what we’re up against now. They’re not a bad team-it’s clear that it’s still a quality program-but there’s hope building among my guys that this could be our year to finally knock them down a peg.

I’m pretty sure the only thing keeping their fans in the seats is the toad currently doing cartwheels down the twenty-yard line. I’d be lying if I said I haven’t been watching Ruth out of the corner of my eye for the whole game. There’s just something that keeps pulling my attention in her direction, and it has nothing to do with the costume.

Fuck. I miss her.

I shake off my distraction, rolling my shoulders and gearing up for the final quarter. I need to stay focused on the game and not have my thoughts run away with a girl who hasn’t spokento me for two weeks. We finally have a shot at winning our conference this year, and I’m not about to let the guys down because I couldn’t keep my eyes off the opposing team’s mascot.

“Dude! Can you believe this?” Christian claps me on the shoulder just as I’m taking a sip of my water. The movement jars me and I end up sloshing liquid across half of my face.

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