Page 208 of Whistle

I mean, I guess he wasn’t as bad as I thought.

“I see,” the dean mumbled.

“I don’t think you do,” Ryan said, taking the attention. “Coach Resch has never used his position to do anything but train and support us. He’s never asked us for anything other than to do our best and leave anything personal outside. He’s always there when we call. He’s shown up at the hospital when we’re hurt, the police station when there’s trouble, and I know he doesn’t get paid overtime. He does it because he’s a good coach and he cares about us.”

“He gave me a chance when no one else would,” Rush put in.

“Me too,” Bodhi echoed.

I wanted to reach out and pull him into me. I knew he wanted it too, but I held back.

“He eats, sleeps, and breathes Elite. He’s one hundred percent dedicated to this job and team. Even when it pisses me off. Even when he makes decisions I don’t like and don’t agree with. At one time, I even lost respect for him,” Ryan said.

I sucked in a breath and turned toward him. “Walsh?” I questioned.

Ryan merely nodded and kept his eyes on Philip. “You know why? Because he didn’t give in to me. He refused to choose one team member over the other without sufficient proof.”

“Bro, that pissed me off too,” Jamie mused.

Ryan held out his fist, and they bumped it out. Then he just kept right on going.

“But you know what? I can admit he did the right thing back then. Even when I hated him for it. Even when I refused to swim. So don’t come in here in your shiny shoes and fancy suit and act like you know what it’s like to live in Speedos, to have to earn your oxygen.”

Kruger nodded. “Honestly, Dean, you’ve been using a lot of it in here. A real oxygen bandit.”

“Kruger,” I warned, but it was half-hearted. I couldn’t even bring myself to tell him he was a moron.

Because, damn. I always told myself it didn’t matter what these boys thought of me because, at the end of the day, I wasn’t their friend. I was their coach.

And while, sure, that was true, I realized I did care. Their respect meant something to me. A lot of somethings.

The locker room door banged open with so much force that we heard it smack the wall from my office.

I rolled my eyes to the ceiling. “Now what?”

“Wes!” Max roared.

“We’re back here,” Wes called.

“Who texted them?” I demanded.

Jamie seemed unbothered. “It’s a team meeting, Coach.”

“They aren’t Elite!” I roared. I was going to need blood pressure pills after all this.

“Yes, they are!” everyone chanted.

Dean Cardinal looked beside himself. Amateur.

“Good luck finding someone else to deal with all this on the daily,” I told him.

“D-daily?” he stuttered.

“Twenty-four-seven, bro.” I confirmed. “Twenty-four-seven.”

Max, Win, and Arsen crowded through the door, all three searching the group for their other halves.

“Matthew,” Arsen called, going right to him, unzipping the Gucci bomber jacket he wore as he went. The second he was close enough, he shook it out behind Prism and pulled it around his body. “You okay?” He fretted. “Coach blowing that whistle again?”

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