Page 94 of Fighting Spirit

“Hey.” I slide off my shoes, Ruth following suit.

He doesn’t respond, just brushing past on his way to Ruth. “Hey Homewrecker.” He grins as he pulls her into a hug.

“Dude,” I warn him. I knew he’d be an ass, but I don’t need him scaring off Ruth in the first two minutes.

“What?” She looks bewildered.

“You like lasagna, right? Ro said you did.” He loops an arm through hers and half drags her toward the kitchen. Her face as she looks back at me is one of pure terror, but I can’t say she’s wrong. Trevor can be a menace when he wants to be.

He bustles her into the kitchen and has her sitting at the island before she can say anything. I take up a position behind her and give the back of her neck a gentle squeeze. Her anxiety is so potent it’s coming off of her like steam.

Trevor whirls around and produces a glass of wine, which he hands to her. When did we get wine glasses?

“You look ready to jump out the window.” He quirks an eyebrow.

“Trev,” I hiss.

“What!” He laughs. “It’s true.”

“I’m a little nervous.” Ruth gives a chagrined smile.

“I told you not to be,” I murmur.

“Ah yes, and I bet that magically solved the issue.” He levels me with a blank look.

Ruth erupts with a laugh that sounds more like a hog snort and her hand flies up to cover her mouth. “I don’t know what that sound was.”

“It’s perfectly natural,” Trevor says as he picks up what looks like a cleaver and starts dicing vegetables from the pile on the counter. “I am hilarious.”

She giggles again and I feel some of my own tension easing. I didn’t want to let on to Ruth, but the stakes here feel high. Trevor’s pretty much the most important person in my life, and the thought of him not getting along with the girl I’m becoming more obsessed with every day makes me a little queasy.

“Um, did Rowan tell you about my allergies?” she asks. I can see her fingers twisting into the skirt of the white sundress she’s wearing. It’s one of the ones with all the little fancy holes in it.When she came out of her building wearing it, I couldn’t say anything, my tongue heavy in my mouth.

“He definitely did,” Trevor answers sardonically.

Ruth stiffens, her eyes widening slightly, but she tries to play it off. “Sorry to be a pain.” She forces out a chuckle.

I’m about ready to smack Trevor around the back of the head. I know Ruth has this idea that her allergies are some kind of problem, that she shouldn’t create issues for other people or some bullshit like that. She obviously thinks that Trevor’s giving her shit about everything she can’t eat.

“You’re fine.” I give her hand a squeeze.

Trevor must catch on to how he’s put his foot in his mouth because he sets down his knife and starts to round the counter. “No, no, you’re good,” he rushes out. “I’m just sick of him telling me about them every day like he thinks I’m gonna throw eggs at you the minute you get in the door.”

“Really?”

“Oh god yeah, I can show you the texts. Every time I mention food, he’s all ‘don’t give Ruth wheat, don’t give her dairy.’ He really doesn’t give me enough credit.”

“I give you exactly the right amount of credit,” I scowl.

“I wrote out a list as soon as he told me, but that’s not stopped him.”

“Oh,” she sounds surprised, “well, thank you, that’s, uh… That’s kind of you.”

“It’s not kind,” he scoffs, going back to his prep. “It would look really bad for me if you died the first time you ate here. I’d be suspect number one.”

“Not Rowan?” She tips her head to the side. “I thought the boyfriend always did it?”

“I think if he wanted to kill you, he’s had plenty of opportunities. I’m the variable.”

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