Page 117 of Whistle

“Then why are you asking me how it went?” I countered.

Several emotions passed over his face. More than once, his lips parted then closed. After a moment, his face smoothed out, and he answered, “I need you in the pool tomorrow at practice.”

The sharp talons of panic punctured my chest, and my eyes flew to the water behind him. It was so still now that no one was in it the surface almost like a mirror.

“I can’t.”

“You can’t, or you won’t?”

My eyes flashed to his. “It doesn’t matter. I said no.”

He took an ever-so-small step toward me. Barely an inch and yet that increase in closeness sent my heart haywire, my pulse so strong I felt it hammering in the side of my neck. “I can’t keep covering for you,” he practically whispered.

He’s been covering for me? “I didn’t ask you to.”

“This is Elite. A division-one swim team. All members must swim. No exceptions.”

Oh, how I’d love to be just one person’s exception.

I started away, my heart in tatters and my stomach in twists.

“Is this about your sister?”

My feet stuttered. The anger I’d been trying to suppress before whooshed through me like I was nothing but a pile of dry kindling. I swung around, feeling the warmth of anger fill me with courage. “What would you know about it?”

“I know trauma takes a lot from a person. Don’t let it take something you love from you.”

My eyes narrowed. “And you think swimming is what I love?” You think it’s why I sit on these godforsaken bleachers every morning at the ass crack of dawn?

The green in his eyes flickered, wariness and something else I couldn’t name. “Isn’t it?”

I exhaled. “Sure, Coach. If that’s what you need to believe.”

26

Coach (Emmett)

Sure, Coach. If that’s what you need to believe.

A need is defined as something critical to a person’s well-being and survival. A want is something that improves the quality of life but is not essential.

And yeah, maybe Goldilocks was right. Needing to believe he loved swimming and not something else was critical to my survival.

But what the fuck was the point of surviving if I was just going to be miserable?

I was at an impasse here. A man standing before a precipice on the brink of extinction and the edge of survival. Instinct drew me toward survival, self-preservation coded in my DNA in a way I might never understand.

But even still, I teetered. Reaching for survival but eyeing extinction. How could I be so drawn to something with the power to take me out?

I was in the kitchen, the only light from the moonbeams shining in through the window over the sink. Landry was with Rush tonight, and the silence of the empty house was getting to me.

It was that silence that allowed me to hear the faint knock.

My heart leaped in my throat, and I tossed back the rest of the Jack in the tumbler I held, the empty glass smacking on the counter as I moved toward the front door.

The sound of my footsteps was muffled by my ragged breath and the erratic beat of my heart. Impatient, I picked up the pace, grabbing the handle and turning it all in one go. The force with which I pulled it open brought a gust of wind against my face.

He stood there bathed in darkness, his golden locks wild about his head. Our eyes clashed and held, the air around us charged and crackling, but neither of us moved.

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