Page 195 of Whistle

I went slack, letting the pain take over. The second we were at the edge, Ryan and Rush hauled me out. The team trainer was there, as was Win, and they both looked serious. A few medics who were on standby started forward, but Rush leaned down and heaved me into his arms.

He carried me into the trainer’s office where the medics could come forward and assess.

“I’m fine,” I insisted through gritted teeth as I grabbed one seizing calf muscle. “Just give me a minute.” My bicep screamed, and I slapped a hand over it too.

“Everyone out,” Coach ordered. “Rush, Walsh, Sinclair.”

“I can help,” Win insisted. Pretty sure he was a physical therapy major.

“Out!” Coach roared.

Everyone left except the medics and team trainer.

“You told me you were ready,” Emmett intoned beside the table.

“I am!” I insisted.

“You told me you weren’t sore.” He went on. “You pushed yourself too hard.”

“Could you tell us what happened out there?” a medic asked.

“I’m assuming leg cramps,” suggested the trainer whose name I couldn’t remember.

“He’s holding his arm too,” the second medic murmured.

“Probably a sprain,” the trainer conferred.

Through the hovering people, I found Emmett, tight-lipped and glowering.

“I’m sorry,” I managed.

“Not yet, you aren’t.” He promised. “But you will be.”

44

Coach (Emmett)

This was my fault. I’d let it go on too long.

Neglected my responsibility and gave him the benefit of the doubt.

You know what that got me?

A super brat.

A super brat with no sense of self-preservation and a hearing problem. Because I knew sure as shit that I’d asked that boy if he was okay to swim. More than once. I even told him to take a pass.

He got in the pool anyway. And now look. Just fucking look.

Took ten years off my damn life because I had to leap into the water to get him. I swear to God, this boy was going to be the death of me.

I’ll die happy.

Don’t start with that sappy shit, Emmett. You have a brat to deal with. It was time this boy faced some consequences.

After the incident in the river—the one where we both nearly drowned—I went easy on him because, you know, near death and the impending meet. And before that because, well… because of everything else.

This was the wrong approach. Clearly.

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