Page 73 of Fighting Spirit

“I should be asking you that.” My breath fogs against the glass as I speak.

“Can you look at me?”

“No.”

He chuckles, and a hand comes down on my shoulder. “Please.”

I don’t get a choice. Rowan gently but firmly turns me around, keeping both hands on my upper arms and pinning me with his stare.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper again.

“What the hell was that?”

“I know, I shouldn’t have said that. I just-”

“Not that,” he cuts in. “I couldn’t give a fuck what you said. Frankly, it was about time. I meant what the hell were you doing running off like that?”

“What?”

“I didn’t know where you were, where you were going. You left your phone on your seat.” He holds up the device, which I now remember tucking under my thigh during the game. I must have forgotten to grab it in my frenzy to get away. Rowan releases me and steps back. “You could have gone anywhere, and I didn’t have a way to reach you; I was worried, Ruth.”

My mouth drops open a little. After everything I said, he was worried about me? I look behind him, half expecting to see Keith standing there. “Where’s your dad?”

Rowan scoffs. “Watching the game.”

“He’s still in there?” Not a whisper anymore, my indignation pushing past my embarrassment.

“I think he’s stewing. He doesn’t get put in his place that often.” I expect to see anger or disappointment, but all that’sthere is amusement. Is he laughing? “That was the best fuckin’ thing I’ve ever seen.” Rowan laughs. “You really gave him hell.”

“You’re not mad?”

“Hell no.” He steps forward, sobering, as he places a hand on the car on either side of my head, effectively caging me in. “Ruth, Jesus Christ. I don’t know what to say. Nobody’s ever stood up to him, not for me. I didn’t know I needed to hear that but I did. I needed it so bad.”

I reach up to clutch at his forearm. Neither of us says anything, just staring at each other. He inches closer until our breaths are mingling. I can see every freckle across his pale skin, mapped out like a constellation. My heart’s beating so hard it could bruise. What is this?

“Ruth, I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing. You’ve got me all messed up and I have no clue what to do about it.”

“What’s happening?” I’m so confused. Half of me wants to cry and the other half wants to ball my fists into his shirt and tug him close enough that he can never get away.

“I don’t know.” He lifts his face and presses his lips against my forehead, speaking the words against my skin like a prayer. “But I think it’s gonna be okay.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He pulls back to hit me with that stare. “It’s you and me, and we’re a team.”

“We are?”

“We are. And I’m gonna kiss you now, as long as that’s okay.”

My breathing stops. Maybe my heart does too, I’m not really sure. I can’t wrap my head around what’s going on. I’m so overwhelmed, happy, and confused, but mostly, I’m just full of wanting. I want everything he’s offering, everything he’s got to give, all of him if he’ll let me have it, just so long as I’m brave enough to take it.

I’m not often the brave one, never the person to take the first leap or go out on the edge and be vulnerable for someone, especially when I’ve got it wrong in the past.

But maybe, this time, for this man, I can at least try.

“Ruth?” he prompts, nudging his nose against mine, waiting for permission.

I get halfway through a word of assent when his mouth crashes onto mine. It’s a mess of contradictions. Soft lips, hard pressure, the scratch of his stubble against my cheek, the way his hands feather over my face in the gentlest caress. It’s fevered and heady, and it’s all I can do to hold onto his shirt and try to keep up. My head spins, thoughts racing past me, but the only one I can latch on to isRowan, Rowan, Rowan.

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