Chapter 24

24

Coach (Emmett)

Knock-knock! My knuckles stung from the quick, aggressive way I smacked them into the heavy door leading to the dean’s office.

“It’s open,” a muffled voice invited from the other side.

I let myself in, closing the door behind me. “Philip, you wanted to see me,” I said in lieu of greeting.

It wasn’t unusual to get a call from Dean Cardinal, as he was the head of Westbrook University and Elite was its biggest pride.

“Emmett,” he said, greeting me by my first name just as I had him. When no one else was present, we always greeted the other casually because long before he became the dean and I the coach, we’d been students here. At one time, roommates and friends.

I wouldn’t not call him a friend these days. We were more colleagues than anything. Funny how, at one time, we were on the same path, but now our lives couldn’t be more different.

Philip had a wife and kids, a dog, and a picket fence in the nicest part of town. He played pickleball on the weekends and sailed in the summer at the country club. He was your typical alumni and lived what most people probably considered the American dream.

And then there was me.

Single. Never married. A cardboard box for a coffee table. A shitty coffeemaker in the kitchen and a daughter I had to fight her mother (who I never married) to see before she moved in with me last year.

“Have a seat,” Philip offered, gesturing to one of the chairs on the other side of his desk. “Would you like some coffee?”

“No thanks.” I declined. As I said, it wasn’t unusual to get called in here for Elite updates, but something felt off.

Or maybe it was just me. Either way, I was on edge. Had been the entire week since Bodhi moved into the dorm room Rush had given him. I knew I’d told him I needed some time to work things out, but having him gone from my house the very same day had been jarring. Especially after the night we’d spent together.

So many times, I’d had to stop myself from going to his room and pounding on the door, demanding to be let in. But I couldn’t. What if someone saw me? Heard me?

I thought maybe he’d come to me.

He didn’t.

I couldn’t say he was avoiding me, though. He came to practice even if he had to sit his Speedo-covered ass on the bleachers every morning. He was going to classes. I knew because I called his professors and checked. Overall, he was being good. Too good.

I miss the brat.

“Emmett?” Philip’s voice snapped me out of my thoughts, and I cleared my throat.

“Sorry, what did you say?”

He laughed under his breath. “You sure you don’t need that coffee?”

“Coffee would be great.” I agreed even though it wasn’t coffee I wanted.

The dean picked up a phone and spoke into the receiver. “Could you please bring some coffee in for myself and Coach Resch?”

His assistant must have replied because he thanked her and then hung up.

“You look a little tired,” Philip observed.

“It’s been a little stressful getting the team ready for the first meet next week. You know the first couple weeks of a new season are trying.”

He hummed. “That I do. But you always do a good job. It’s why Elite is the best team on the East Coast.”

“You know I’m very committed to my job.”

He hummed again, watching me with an enigmatic stare. Something about it made the back of my neck prickle.

“Is there a problem?” I asked point blank because I really was not in the mood to kowtow to the dean just because he was my boss.

The double doors leading into his office shuddered a bit when his assistant—a middle-aged woman in a flowered dress—came in with a small cart topped with two mugs of coffee, cream, and sugar.

“Here we are, gentlemen,” she said, parking it nearby.

“Thank you,” Philip said, and I echoed the sentiment.

When she was gone, he pushed from his large desk chair and came around to add some cream and sugar to his mug.

“Help yourself,” he instructed when I just sat there, so I got up and added some cream to the dark brew, skipping the sugar.

I took a sip and sighed in appreciation.

Philip laughed. “I knew you needed it.”

Rueful, I said, “I think my machine at home is broken. Either that or I’m just shit at making it.”

“I’m shit at making it too. That’s why my wife does it.”

I didn’t know why, but that genial comment reminded me there was a line drawn in the sand between us and we were not the same.

I sat down, and Philip continued to stand over the cart and stare.

“Is there something you’d like to say?” I finally asked, sipping at the brew. It was better than anything I could make.

Might be time for a new coffeemaker. And some furniture.

“I won’t mince words,” he said, voice brusquer than before.

“I would appreciate that.”

“There’s been some rumors.”

I wasn’t sure what I’d been expecting, but that hadn’t even been close.

I stared at him. “I’m sorry?”

He sighed and walked behind his desk to drop in his chair. After setting aside his mug and fiddling with his tie, he looked up. “About one of your swimmers.”

My stomach sank. I knew which swimmer he was talking about. “I didn’t take you as the type to stand around the water cooler and gossip,” I said, meeting his stare.

“I’m not. But I am head of this college, and as such, it is my job to make sure this campus is in order.”

“Just spit it out, Philip.”

“Your new swimmer. The one you recruited from California.” He leaned forward and lifted the cover of a folder sitting on his desk. “Bodhi Lawson.”

My teeth smacked together, but I forced my jaw to relax. “What about him?”

“He skipped an entire week of practices, Emmett. With no recourse.”

“It was a difficult transition for him. He?—”

“He still isn’t swimming. It’s been over two weeks. Elite’s first meet is in six days. I hear he hasn’t even been in the pool.”

The urge to defend Bodhi was so fierce that I sat forward in the chair. In an effort to cover the movement, I set my coffee on the edge of his desk and then leaned back, my spine remaining rigid. It was on the tip of my tongue to ask the dean where he was getting his information. If he was having me watched. Elite watched.

“Why is your new recruit not swimming, Emmett?”

“He has some trauma related to the water, and it’s been inducing panic attacks. I’ve been working?—”

“If he can’t swim, why is he on Elite?”

“I didn’t know about his trauma when I recruited him,” I said.

Not that it would have mattered. I’d have done anything to put him on a plane and bring him home.

But he isn’t home, is he, Emmett? He’s in a dorm room.

“And once you realized?” Dean Cardinal pressed.

“He was already here. Already Elite.”

“Yet he is still not swimming.”

“I’ve got him set up with a therapist. He’s been coming to practice, and I’ve been working with him to build confidence in the pool.”

“This is not the YMCA, Emmett. This is a division-one swim team.”

“I realize that.”

“Then why is he still here?”

“Because Elite doesn’t give up on each other,” I snapped.

Philip pursed his lips.

“What kind of example would that show if I just booted him right after signing him? Not to mention, he’s here as part of restitu?—”

“I’m well aware of why he is here.” Philip cut me off. “Which is to swim. Which he is not. Again, this is not a rehabilitation center.”

Agitated, I got up to pace. “He will swim.”

“By the first meet?”

I hesitated.

“And when he does, will his time be consistent with a division-one school?” The dean pressed. “I would assume he’s not conditioned to swim if he hasn’t been doing it.”

I thought about his thin waist, the way my hands nearly touched when I wrapped them around it. I thought about how I worried every day if he was feeding himself properly.

“I understand you don’t want to cut him so fast, but we have to think of the team. Of what kind of message it sends that you let him slack off while expecting the others to perform exceptionally.”

“I’m not letting him slack off,” I practically growled.

How dare he lecture me about my team? My coaching. My Goldilocks.

“Students saw you outside Peregrine Hall. Carrying him to your car, then driving away with him.”

I whipped around to stare at the dean as if I could see his words and not just hear them. “He’d gotten in a fight.”

“You hit a student, Emmett.”

My jaw snapped shut. Prying it apart, I responded, “Yes. I did. I know it was completely out of line, and if you want to write me up, I’ll take the punishment for my actions,” I said, meeting his eyes.

“Is there something else going on here that I should know about?” His voice was steady, as was his stare.

There was nothing about me that was steady, the implication of his words knocking me sideways and making my heart beat erratically. Sweat gathered at the small of my back, sticking my shirt to my overheated skin.

Despite the bedlam living it up inside me, I met his gaze. “Like what?” I asked, my voice just as steady as his.

“What is your relationship with Bodhi Lawson?”

“He’s my swimmer. I’m his coach.”

“Where did he stay after the fight at the dorm?”

My tongue slid over my teeth, and my jaw jutted out. “It was late. I took him to my house.”

Dean Philip groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. “Jesus, Emmett. You know that is against every policy we have!”

“What was I supposed to do? Dump him at a hotel?”

“You should have put him with a teammate.”

I made a sound. “He slept on the couch!” I insisted. Lie. “And then he got a new room the next morning.”

“Need I remind you of Westbrook’s consensual relationship policy?”

I stared at him.

“An air-tight policy that prohibits any sort of sexual or romantic relationship between students and professors or coaches.”

My voice was hollow. It felt like my insides were caving in. Crumbling into rubble inside me. “Did you just accuse me of sleeping with a student?”

If anyone other than my former roommate and old college friend was the dean, he wouldn’t even think it. But Philip knew me long ago. He knew women weren’t my preference.

“I have no evidence of any such thing,” he said. “As a valued and long-standing member of our faculty, one who has an impeccable record and has brought this college abundant prestige, I felt it important to bring to your attention the rumors.”

“They aren’t rumors. That stuff happened just like I told you. Nothing more. Nothing less.” Lie. Lie. Lie.

“Yes. Well, thank you for your transparency. It’s noted.”

“Is there anything else?” I asked, trying not to grind my teeth to ash.

“Don’t think so,” he replied.

I turned to flee, hoping it didn’t look like I was fleeing but a man on his way to do important shit.

“Actually, Coach Resch?”

I stopped and turned. “Yes, Dean Philips?”

“If your new swimmer isn’t ready to swim in the first meet of the season in six days, you will cut him from the team.”

An ultimatum.

“Of course, Dean Philips.” I was succinct, drilling my stare into his. “After all, it is my job to make sure Elite is nothing but the best.”

“Good.”

I strode out of his office with my head held high, past his assistant, and down the long hall and a flight of stairs. One floor down, I pushed into a restroom and after making sure it was empty, slumped against the wall, and hung my head.

Fuck.