Page 46

Story: Fighting Spirit

Chapter Forty-Six

ROWAN

I steer Ruth’s stiff frame into her bedroom and deposit her on the unmade bed. Jesus Christ, this is all such a fuckin’ mess.

Every cell in my body is screaming fix it, fix it, fix it, but there’s not a God damn thing I can do for her.

Her relationships with two of the most important people in her life have blown up, and I can’t do anything except stand here and try to keep her from falling apart completely.

I scoop up a discarded tote bag from the floor and start rummaging through her drawers, pulling out socks and underwear before starting on clothes. I don’t know why the urge to take her home with me is so strong, but it feels like the only course of action is to tuck her away at my place where she can properly decompress.

I don’t need bathroom stuff. I bought some of everything I thought she might need when we started dating, but I want her to have comfortable things to wear.

When I’ve got a sufficient overnight bag, I kneel down in front of Ruth. She hasn’t moved from where I put her and my heart breaks at the vacant look in her eyes. It’s as if she’s totally retreated inside her body to try and get away from this night.

I run a gentle hand up and down her calf. “You wanna get changed before we go?”

She looks down at me with those red-rimmed eyes, and I want to burn this apartment building to the ground. I want to go out there and scream at Georgie that she has no idea what the fuck she just threw away, that she’s made the biggest mistake of her life.

I certainly want to track down that piece of shit Marshall and snuff out his sorry excuse for an existence. The rage I felt when Ruth told me what he did was so strong it kind of scared me. I’ve never thought I was a man capable of murder, but I’d happily make an exception for him.

“We’re going?” Her nose scrunches slightly.

“Yeah, sweetheart.” I give her ankle a squeeze. “I’m taking you back to my place.”

“Okay.” Her eyes are blank and I wonder how much she’s hearing me.

I have to swallow down everything I’m feeling so I can take care of her. As much as I want to rage and scream, none of that matters for as long as she needs me. I pull off both of her shoes and help her out of the dress she wore to the event. She opts for leggings and an old t-shirt that I left here one night; the sight of her in my clothes does something to me that I store away for a moment when she hasn’t just had her world shattered.

When I get her coat over her shoulders, she finally speaks.

“Why can’t I just be somebody’s first choice?” The words are so broken, a whisper pulled from the most wretched part of her soul, and I can’t help the tear that tracks down my cheek.

You’re my first choice, I want to say. My first, my only, the best choice I ever made. I’d live with you on the moon, under the sea, in a treehouse fifty feet high, and I’d never get tired of you, never stop thinking how I’m the luckiest bastard in the world to get to see you every day, because I’m so God damn in love with you that it’s nearly killing me. I don’t know who the fuck decided to put you in my path that night, but I wish I did so I could tell them they sent me the girl that turned my world upside down in the best possible way. You make me Ruth, you make me whole, you make me happy, you’re fuckin’ everything to me, and any kind of life that you’re not in is a pale imitation now that I’ve seen the real thing.

But I can’t tell her any of that. Not tonight, not when she wouldn’t believe me.

I get her into the car and on the road without issue. She seems content to just go where I lead her and fuck me if her trust doesn’t make me feel about eighty feet tall.

I send Trevor a quick message to let him know we’re on our way and that Ruth’s had a rough night. His replies ping in within seconds.

Trevor

Does she want hot chocolate?

I’m gonna go get some almond milk

does she want marshmallows?

Rowan

get whatever else you need to feed her for a few days, DON’T MAKE HER SICK AGAIN I’ll pay you back.

Trevor

DID YOU ASK HER ABOUT MARSHMALLOWS

I lock the device and my hand moves of its own accord, finding a place to settle over the curve of Ruth’s thigh. As I steer the truck toward Beaufort, I sneak glances at her. She’s propped up with an elbow against the window, her head slumped against the glass. I feel so helpless I could scream, but at least once I get her home, I can try and figure out what I’m meant to do.

A fizzing feeling starts in my chest, something unruly and unnamed, like a shaken-up soda can, or a wasp against glass, as I fully acknowledge what had been just a fleeting thought.

I love her.

I’m in love with her.

I don’t know when it happened, how I didn’t notice it before, but it doesn’t feel new. I thought it would scare me, but even though it should, even though there’s a complete shitshow out there, a hundred reasons why nothing between us should make sense, sitting in the truck with the girl I love, I can feel my priorities shifting like a physical sensation.

Fuck, I have seriously had my head up my ass.

In trying not to upset anyone, in all my ‘waiting for the right moment’ to tell the guys about Ruth, I’ve been missing out on the best thing in my life. I want Ruth, I want us together, all in. I want to take her out on dates, I want her at my games with my name and number on her back, I want her to meet my friends and for them to wonder how the hell I got a girl like her to give me the time of day.

I never intended my relationship to be a secret, but in all my attempts to avoid conflict, I’ve turned into the exact kind of coward I never wanted to be.

It’s going to suck. There’ll probably be some bullshit speculation once I join the staff, people thinking I’m just like Simmons. The guys are going to be pissed, and it’ll be one more thing to add to the ever-widening gap between us, but I have to make it work. Ruth’s worth it.

By the time we pull into the lot outside my building, Ruth is asleep. I reposition her so she’s not leaning against the door and then round the hood. Once I have the passenger side open I carefully unbuckle her, holding my breath like even that could wake her. The tote bag ends up looped over one shoulder as I slip my arms behind her back and under her legs to lift her against my chest.

The truck door slams shut and I swear under my breath, but Ruth doesn’t stir. She’s a solid weight in my arms, all toned limbs and muscle, but still so fragile. I adjust her a little so that her head lolls against my shoulder as we make our way toward the door.

“Fuck,” I mutter as I remember I put my keys in my back pocket. There’s no way I can get them out without putting Ruth down. I take a couple of steps back, trying to figure out my options, when I spot it: Trevor’s window, cracked open to let the air in. For once, I thank God that he’s a fuckin’ lunatic and likes to drop the temperature of the apartment by keeping his window open all year round. He says the outside air ‘smells better’ and it’s the only way he can sleep.

I cover Ruth’s ear that’s not pressed against my shirt. “Trevor!” I whisper-yell, hoping it’s enough. When I get no answer, I try again, but it’s the same. I’m debating going back to the car and putting Ruth down, even making it halfway back, when I hear it.

“What are you doing?”

I spin, cringing at the scrape of gravel under my boots. “Shut up,” I hiss.

“This would look extremely sketchy if I didn’t know you.”

“Can you buzz me in?”

“I don’t know. I kinda want to watch you roam around the parking lot some more.”

“Come on, man. She’s getting cold.” I nod down at Ruth.

He sobers, darting away from the window. A second later, the buzzer to the building goes off, cutting through the quiet. When I get up the stairs to the apartment door, Trev’s already got it open. He’s leaning against the door jamb with his arms crossed.

“Oh, Homewrecker.” He frowns as he takes in her puffy eyes, swollen from crying.

“I’m gonna get her in bed.”

He nods, stepping back so I can get her in. He moves through the apartment ahead of us, opening doors and pulling back the covers. Once I have her in bed, I pull off her shoes and tuck her in, pausing to drop a lingering kiss on her forehead.

“What happened?” Trevor asks when I get into the kitchen.

I sigh, scratching my shoulder. “She’s gonna stay here for a while.”

“Yeah, no problem.” He leans back against the island. “She gonna be okay?”

I take him in, concern filling his dark eyes as his gaze flits toward the bedroom.

“I’ve got her.”