Page 206 of Whistle

“I do. And that’s exactly why I just quit,” I said, heart nearly pounding out of my chest. Adrenaline pumped through me as though my body thought I was fighting for my life.

And then I realized.

I was.

“And he’s not just some kid with a criminal record and shitty time. He’s the man I love. The man I’m willing to walk away from this pool for. So the next time you want to speak about the man I have chosen, you might remember that.”

Dean Cardinal was speechless, which was good because every time he opened his mouth, he pissed me off more.

I held a finger in the air. “And speaking of our agreement and the policies you so love to remind me of… You cannot dismiss a swimmer based on a verbal agreement that was made without a witness. You cannot dismiss a member of Elite for a poor showing at a single meet. Especially after you were made aware of the physical strain and trauma this student had been under a mere twenty-four hours prior. Trying to do so would make it look like you have some axe to grind. A personal vendetta. Is that the kind of look you want to present, Dean Cardinal?”

Cheeks a little paler than before, he straightened and cleared his throat. “You might have saved his position on Elite today, Coach, but who will do it when you are gone?”

My tongue slid over my teeth.

“A sprained bicep takes a while to heal. And without his previous performance on record to prove he’s an asset, well, the board may decide to cut their losses.”

“I can’t stop you,” I said, hating it but knowing it was futile to deny. “But his grades are good. I know because I keep tabs on them. His tuition is paid. You can’t expel him from the school. Please, Philip. You know his reparation is conditional to this.”

Asking for that made my esophagus burn, but I would do anything I could to protect Bodhi.

Both eyebrows arched halfway up the dean’s forehead. “You really will stand there and fight to keep him here instead of yourself?”

A loud bang and a scuffle outside the office brought our heads around. I suppressed a groan.

“What was that?” Dean Cardinal asked as if this were some college version of Friday the 13th and not a locker room.

Bodhi barreled in, face set in full-on superbrat mode, eyes shooting lasers of death. “You cannot quit your job!”

He went straight for the dean, and considering his track record, I knew it was going to get ugly.

I lunged fast, snatching the hood lying against his shoulders and yanking him back. He tripped over the too-long pants (because they were mine) and nearly wiped out right there, but I caught him.

“This conversation does not concern you,” I said, pinning his back against my chest.

“The hell it doesn’t,” he fumed, spinning around as his eyes flashed. “You are not quitting your job. I forbid it.”

Well, what in the audacity did we have here?

I arched an eyebrow, Crossing my arms over my chest. “You forbid it?”

He grimaced but didn’t back down. “Yes.”

Outside the room, I heard, “Forbidding shit is my line. Someone needs to tell him.”

Oh, look. Superbrat brought his friends.

Nosy bastards.

“Get your asses in here,” I barked.

“I thought old men had bad hearing!” Kruger whisper-exclaimed.

Someone needed to tell him his inside voice was shit.

“Now!”

They stepped in one by one. It was ridiculous like one of those tiny cars at the circus that held way too many clowns.

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