Page 21 of Whistle

“Hurting yourself is not the answer,” a quiet voice told me. “This is not the way.”

“Yeah?” I heard myself answer. “Well, I’ve tried all the other ways. None of them work.”

“There’s one left you haven’t tried.”

My mind was still spiraling. Reeling as if it could somehow careen itself right out of my head. But even as it whirled, my body was anchored. Wrapped tight in something solid and warm, something big enough to engulf me.

I wanted to hide here. Let my mind spin out while the rest of me rested. Maybe my mind would eventually rest too.

I didn’t even know where here was… just that it felt safe.

“What’s that?” I asked even as I settled into the embrace.

“Come home with me.”

The words rattled me, stole the comfort I’d been so happily imbibing. I bolted up, but the arms around me tightened. Lifting my chin, I stared wide-eyed at the man who held me. It rattled me that it was with him I’d just felt so secure.

Sneering, I said, “Aren’t you the one who told me to get the hell out of your pool and never show my face there again?”

Shock rippled in his eyes, light scattering in the golden hue.

“Yeah. I remember.” I confirmed. I remembered exactly what he said to me the day we met. “So why would I come home with you?”

His expression pinched, the golden hue of his eyes deepening like a storm was rolling in. “Not me.” He corrected. “With the team. To Westbrook.”

“Where you’re the coach.”

“That’s right. Where I’m in charge.”

I sputtered, stiffened, and pulled out of his vise-like hold. “I know I just got hit in the face, but am I hallucinating?”

He moved fast, hand tangling in my hair. Hair I hadn’t washed in days. Fingers tugging, he brought my face around as awareness prickled all the way down to my toes. “Who hit you?” he asked, voice dark while his stare studied the split in my cheek.

“My roommate. He thinks I’m pretty.”

His eyes flared. The ire in them made me giddy and, deep down… relieved. His hands twisted in my hair, almost causing pain before releasing me, pushing me toward the table.

“Sign the papers. We’re leaving.”

“I’m not coming to Westbrook. I’m not swimming for you.”

“You don’t have a choice,” he growled.

Shivers raced along my spine, and goose bumps rose over my arms. For so long, I’d been causing chaos and fighting. Always fighting.

No one ever fought back.

No one ever tried to control me.

I liked it. I liked it so damn much.

Rush stepped up to my side, He smelled the same as he used to. That scent wreaked havoc on my system, starting a war in my head between then and now.

“It’s Elite or the slammer, Bodes.”

Bodes. He hadn’t called me that in so long.

“You called me. Here I am. This is a one-time offer. Sign the papers or go back to your cell with your new bestie.”

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