Page 11 of Whistle

The silence that followed was heavy and woven with regret. The low, defeated voice was barely audible and punched a hole right through my chest. “I know.”

“Two minutes!” someone bellowed in the background.

Beside me, Rush tensed.

“You’re in jail?” I demanded.

Pause. “Who is this?” His voice was much stronger than it was just seconds ago.

“Coach Emmett Resch.”

A rude sound echoed through the line. “Whatever. Forget I called.”

A ripple of panic disturbed everything beneath my skin.

“Wait,” Rush called.

The line went quiet, but I knew he was there because the background noise gave him away.

“What did you do?” Rush asked.

“They burned our lives down around us. Why should they get a happy-ever-after while the rest of us ache?”

“I didn’t ask why. I asked what,” Rush replied.

I glanced up at him, surprised at how uncaring he managed to sound.

My heart was in my throat, trapped like a bird in a cage. The empty space beneath my ribs felt hollow with a cold draft.

“I burned down the Cobalts’ guest house.”

A muscle in Rush’s jaw jumped, and a strangled sound ripped out of me. “You did what?”

“Call your lawyer,” Rush replied, voice even.

Maybe he could freeze the balls off a brass monkey after all. It was unfathomable to me in this moment because I burned with wrath.

“He refused my call.”

“Your parents.” Rush tried again.

“They cut me off.”

“What the fuck, Bodhi?” Rush burst out, his final reaction filling me with satisfaction. “Why would they do that?”

“Because I deserve it.”

The breath whooshed out of me, and I started to pace. The self-degradation and defeat I heard in his tone was a far cry from the golden-haired brat who showed up at my pool filled with rebellion.

You don’t know him, Emmett. You literally laid eyes on him twice. He’s a kid.

I knew all that. I agreed with it.

It didn’t matter.

My voice was gruff. “Where are you?”

Pause. “Two Towers.”

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