Page 72 of Fighting Spirit

“Trevor’s not strange.”

“When I was in your shoes, I embraced the experience; I made the most of it.”

I know all this; he never lets me forget it. I spent my whole childhood hearing about his glory days as the Northridge QB.Growing up, all I got was stories about the games, the parties with the team, the girls that flocked to him. For the first year, I tried so hard to be that guy, to live up to everything he wanted from me, but I just couldn’t do it. I was so stressed out, always overwhelmed, and it was starting to affect my game. It was actually Fitz who suggested I get out of that house. He showed me the ad Trevor had placed when his last roommate dropped out.

“I have embraced it. It just looks different to how you did it.”

“You think what you’re doing isn’t a waste of your ability, but that’s only because you don’t see how good you are.” I know that he truly believes this, that my choice to go into coaching is born out of some kind of insecurity, but I know exactly what I’m capable of. I could probably be a half-decent NFL player if I really went for it, but I don’t want it. Not the way he did.

“I know what I want.”

“How can you know? You don’t understand what it’s like to have your choices taken away from you.” He gets more heated the more he speaks.

“Isn’t that exactly what you’re trying to do?” The words come from behind me, and I swivel to see Ruth glaring daggers at my father, leaning forward to see him.

“This really isn’t any of your business.” Dad crosses his arms, rubbing one hand up and down his bicep. It’s a telltale sign that he’s trying to keep his tightly held temper in check.

“I don’t mean to be rude.” Ruth shifts forward until she’s perched right on the edge of her seat, the conversation happening past me. “But you kind of made it all our businesses when you started going on loud enough for everybody to hear.”

He glances around, jaw ticking as he sees all the people around us trying to look as if they’re not listening.

“This is between me and my son.”

“Well, he’s too polite to tell you to shove it, but frankly, I’m not,” Ruth blurts out. I can see her hand trembling slightly before she clenches her fist.

“Ruth,” I murmur. I appreciate her sticking up for me, but it’s not worth it. I’ve been here before, and he’ll never back down.

“Your son’s a great player, but he’s gonna be an incredible coach. And if you can’t see it, then that’s a you problem.”

“I just want what’s best for him.”

“Have you ever asked him what that is? Or do you just think you know? Look, I don’t know what your deal is, and frankly, I don’t care all that much, but I do know that you’re pushing your son away, and that’s therealwaste here because he’s an incredible man, and you’d be damn lucky to really get to know him.”

She sounds a little breathless at the end of her speech, and I can’t do anything but stare. Her eyes flicker between me and Dad, realization coming over her expression, then panic.

Her breaths come fast, like she’s hearing herself for the first time. I’m about to say something when she’s up, shuffling past the other people in our row. She’s all apologies and mumbled words until she hits the steps, then she’s gone.

Chapter Thirty-One

RUTH

Idon’t know where I’m headed, but I know I need to get there fast. What in the actual hell was I thinking? It was like my brain got hijacked and I just started spouting off at Rowan’s dad.

I think I’ve just lost the ability to be around Rowan without embarrassing myself. I was supposed to be the buffer, the person he could rely on, like he so often is for me. Instead, I’ve yelled at his dad and made a total spectacle of myself.

I want to crawl into a hole and sleep forever.

The sounds of the crowd lessen as I get deeper into the stadium. I have to push past people queuing for the bathroom in my desperation to get out.

I keep walking until I reach his truck, ignoring every sound around me as I fight against the sting behind my eyes. I put a hand against the passenger side door, the locked door. Fuck. All I want is to curl up in my bed and hide from my unerring ability to humiliate myself in front of Rowan.

I don’t know how long I stand there, pulling in shaky breaths and trying to figure out what my plan is, when I hear him behind me.

“Ruth.” He’s close, quiet. I tip my forehead forward until it’s resting against the car.

“I’m sorry.” I don’t know what else to say. I know it doesn’t even begin to cover it, but I have to get it out.

“You okay?”

---