Page 129 of Whistle

“You said you weren’t going to swim,” he said, burning a hole through my heart with his stare.

“You needed me.” My own admission made me realize it wasn’t just his stare burning a hole through my heart but knowing that there was something—someone—bigger than my trauma. Someone I was willing to battle it back to get to.

It stunned me a little, the grasp of this man’s power, his ability reaching beyond commanding my desire and body. Deeper. All the way to instinct.

His throat bobbed, and I reached out to catch his hand, tugging him toward the lane rope where we mirrored positions, tucking it right under our armpits so it could keep us afloat. Emmett left too much space between us, and though it was see-through, it felt like a dense wall keeping us apart. I slid over, bursting through the barrier, until our shoulders touched, and he glanced at me out of the corner of his eye.

Neither of us acknowledged the trembling in my limbs, and I prayed he started talking soon before irrational thought took over the tenuous grip I had on my nerves.

“I fell in love in high school.”

The simple words engrossed me, and I settled my chin on my arm to listen.

“He was a football player. Typical jock.” He half smiled at that, and my stomach burned as I imagined a younger, less-bearded version of Emmett teasing someone for being a jock. As if he wasn’t one too.

This story—Emmett’s origin story, if you will—was going to be hard to hear. The jealousy I was prone to was already on high alert.

But damn, I wanted this. To know him. It was something I was so hungry for that not even my own jealousy or aversion to water could keep me from listening intently. I told him I wanted everything, and that meant everything that made him into the grumpy, closed-off man he was, even the stuff that would turn me green with envy. I welcomed it. Bring it on.

“He was good but didn’t get any offers to play in college.”

Em’s voice recentered my attention, and I cleared my throat. “Must have been hard for him,” I commented.

“Yeah,” Emmett replied, voice a little hollow. “Except he never said that. He acted like it was no big deal, said he never planned to go pro anyway. His family had enough money to send him to college, so he didn’t need a scholarship.”

I nodded but kept quiet, not wanting to interrupt his flow with my words.

“I got an offer from Westbrook to swim, and so he applied and got in too. I was pretty excited. We were both going to the same college. Figured we’d get a place together and wouldn’t have to sneak around as much.”

“You were sneaking around?”

“Yeah, he didn’t want people to know he was gay. It was a long time ago, not quite like it is now. He was afraid he’d get kicked off the football team and that his parents would disown him. I understood. I wasn’t exactly chomping at the bit to tell people my business either, you know?”

I nodded.

“Turned out I had to live in the dorms the first year with the rest of my team, so he decided to rush a fraternity.”

The water splashed lightly as I kicked my feet out behind me. “You don’t seem like the frat boy type.”

The side of his mouth curved up. “I’m not.” He confirmed. “But he wanted to do it, and I figured maybe it filled a void that football had left.”

“So what happened?”

“Long story short?” Emmett murmured, gazing out over the water. “He got into the frat and decided he didn’t want to tell anyone about us.”

I couldn’t imagine not wanting to tell everyone if Emmett was mine. Hell, we weren’t anything official, but just the idea of him going to that auction made me want to scream at the entire campus to keep their hands off.

Even so, I understood some people really struggled with their identity and acceptance, and it wasn’t really about Em but about their own demons. Plus, as shitty as my parents turned out to be, I never worried they’d shun me for my orientation.

Maybe your parents didn’t turn out shitty. Maybe you did.

Well, that thought smacked me across the face so hard my eyes stung. Shoving it down deep, I asked Emmett, “Did he break up with you?”

Em shook his head. “No. He didn’t want to break up. He just wanted to date in secret.”

He was ashamed of you. “I guess you didn’t like that?”

He let out a humorless laugh. “No. And we fought about it. A lot.” He shook his head and rubbed at his stubbled jaw. “We got into it one night, and he stormed out.” Head bowed, he stared into the water for a few long seconds. “That was the last time I ever saw him.”

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