Page 47 of Fighting Spirit

“It’s going well,” I concede, not wanting to get carried away. I’ve seen teams turn around games from worse positions than theirs. “But we still got work to do.”

He chuckles. “Can’t we just enjoy this? We’re finally showing these assholes who we are!”

He deserves to be excited about this, he’s playing some great football out there. But there’s one quarter left and everything still to play for. “Just keep your head on straight.”

He sobers, giving me his full attention. “You got it, Ro.”

The ref waves us over and we start jogging into position. I take my place in front of Jasper and crouch down, ready to take the snap. As I settle, a flash of green catches my eyes. My gaze darts right, just in time to see Ruth screw up the landing on her last tumble and go down hard on her ass, falling back until her head hits the turf.

Oh shit. I immediately straighten, ready to run over there and check on her, make sure she’s not hurt, when the roar of the crowd registers and I remember where I am.

I can’t go check on her; I can’t see if she’s okay, if she twisted something or broke her wrist, or any of the other hundred things racing across my brain right now.

I could throw up. Everything slows down, everything disappears except for her, and I can’t even see her face to know if she’s alright. I try to focus, to do what I’ve been trained to do, but it goes against every urge in my body.

If I do anything except keep playing, I could fuck up our first chance at beating Allbreck in the last four years, and the guyswould never forgive me. So instead of doing what I want to do, what my mind is screaming at me to do, I crouch down and suck in some deep breaths, clearing my mind of anything except for where I need this football to go.

That all goes to hell when I see Ruth being escorted off the sidelines by a medic, disappearing into the tunnel and out of my sight. My snap goes too far left and Jasper fumbles it, not expecting the move. He manages to get control of the ball, but by the time he’s ready to pass it off, two of Allbreck’s defensive line are bearing down on us. I block one of them, but he manages to tackle me to the field, leaving Jasper open for the other. It’s an obvious play, one that’s over in seconds, but still, I fall for it, and Allbreck takes control of the ball.

There’s a moment as I lay on the turf, squinting against the sun, that I curse Ruth for getting in my head so fuckin’ much. She falls over, and I fuck up a move I’ve been practicing since I was in peewee. But as fast as it happens, the curse gets washed away by the worry I can’t get away from.

The final quarter is tough after my screwup, but we manage to regain control. I make a point of not looking towards the away team tunnel as Ruth exits, only allowing myself a quick glance at the Jumbotron, where I see her running and jumping like nothing ever happened.

I don’t want to think about the way my chest loosens as I see that she’s okay, how the tension in my shoulders eases and my fingers unclench from the fist they’ve been curled into. I try to tell myself that it doesn’t matter to me, that I’m focused on the game, that I didn’t feel the urge to run off the field and chase her down that tunnel, but I’d be a damn liar if I said I don’t play better once she’s back where I can see her.

Chapter Twenty

RUTH

I’m trying to absorb the cold from the concrete wall at my back as I sit in the corridor connecting the changing room to the parking lot, tucked out of sight from any fans. I just need a minute to catch my breath and let my head stop spinning before I try to wrestle myself out of the costume.

I’m sure once I get it off, there’ll be a bruise the size of my fist on my ass from where I fucked up that cartwheel, but I’m trying not to think about that right now, despite the throbbing pain that stuck with me through most of the game.

I especially don’t want to think about what threw me off, the fact that I was staring too hard at Rowan’s ass as he squatted for the snap.

He might have pissed me off, but that man is so fucking fine I’d have to be blind not to notice. It doesn’t mean anything. I mean, what’s a little ogling between friends? It’s probably just that I haven’t gotten laid in so long. Maybe this is a sign to re-download one of the dating apps that used to litter my home screen.

After Marshall broke my heart, I figured it was time to be by myself for a little while, to try and get my head on straight before I got back out there. Maybe this attraction to Rowan is just whatI need to tell me that my self-imposed celibacy isn’t serving me anymore.

I’ve been slumped on the concrete for a while, disgusted by the cloud of my own smell that’s emanating from the collar of the suit, when a shoe knocks against mine. I crack an eye open to see a hulking figure silhouetted against the fluorescent light behind them. I squint my eyes, trying to make out more than an unruly head of hair and a set of pads, but it’s his arm that gives him away. He brings it up to scratch at the juncture of his neck and shoulder. I’ve seen him do that a couple times, always when he’s uncomfortable.

“Shouldn’t you be celebrating?” I peer up and down the corridor, half expecting to see a huddle of his teammates snickering in a corner. But we’re alone, only the low sounds of the crowds moving out of the stadium cutting through the quiet.

“Probably.” He shrugs.

“Then why aren’t you?”

He shrugs again, bringing his hands up and curling his fingers under the plastic of his shoulder pads, easing the edge away from his chest. I wonder what it would be like if it was my fingers curling under his jersey, what all that skin would feel like under my hands. I shake the thought away as fast as it arrives. Absolutely not. No way am I going there.

You’d think I would have learned my lesson not to get involved with a friend, but I guess my libido didn’t get the message. I almost resent how good it feels to see him, how the churn in my gut I hadn’t noticed until this moment settles now that he’s stood in front of me, even if it looks like he’d rather be anywhere else.

“I wanted to apologize, but you haven’t texted me back.”

“I-uhh…” I have no idea how to respond. I mean, what do I say?I’d mostly forgotten about our fight. I just decided to cut you out of my life because I realized I was low-key getting abit obsessed with you and it was really starting to take up too much of my time?What kind of an answer is that?

“I missed you,” he says.

Damn.

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