Chapter 36

36

Coach (Emmett)

I looked at every face and into every corner around this yuppy schmooze fest, but Bodhi was nowhere to be found.

Frankly, it made me nervous.

The last time I had eyes on him was when he abruptly stood in the middle of the auction and our gazes collided. The fleeting glance was a sucker punch to my diaphragm and undeniable evidence that whatever reassurance I thought I gave him earlier wasn’t enough.

Most of my life, I considered myself somewhat of a screw-up. Not really on the professional side but definitely on the personal one. It just was. Something about myself I didn’t bother changing because it didn’t really affect anyone but me. But that look on Bodhi’s face? The way he high-tailed it out of the auditorium like his ass was on fire?

I had to do better. Be better.

And for the first time ever… I wanted better. For him. For me.

For us.

It took forever to untangle myself from the clutches of the event. Being a high-profile coach of a D-1 swim team meant everyone wanted a piece of my time. Usually, I didn’t mind because this was part of the job, but tonight, it was nothing but an annoyance. When I finally thought I could get away, I came face to face with the woman who’d dropped a hell of a lot of money to spend time with me.

I recognized her as Landry’s ER nurse from several months ago, but that was all I knew. I hadn’t been focused on anyone but Landry that night and didn’t even remember her name. She was beautiful in an objective sense and had a respectable job, but the asshole in me kept silently wondering what the hell was wrong with her that she needed to drop fifteen grand to get a date.

And also, her taste in men was shit.

I almost begged off the invitation to have a drink at the bar, but I caught my old buddy the dean staring from across the room. He lifted his glass in some sort of toast or perhaps congratulations.

Being the gentleman I wasn’t, I escorted her over to the bar and ordered her a drink. I made small talk for as long as I could stand and then extricated myself with the excuse of needing the restroom.

The second I was out of sight, I took the back exit and walked across the lot to my Mustang, peeling off the tux jacket and bowtie as I went. We said we’d meet back at the house tonight, and I was hoping he was already there waiting.

The townhouse was dark when I pulled into the driveway, but that didn’t mean anything, especially since the bedroom was upstairs toward the back of the house. The first inkling of unease crawled over me when I had to use my keys to unlock the front door.

I’d expected it to already be open from Bodhi letting himself in with the key I’d given him a few days ago. The door clicked quietly when I shut it after me, the empty silence of the dark space the second hint that Bodhi wasn't there.

“Goldilocks,” I called, gruff and a little impatient as I tossed my keys on a table near the door and toed off my dress shoes.

I glanced into the kitchen, noting it was exactly as we’d left it, and went upstairs with a sense of urgency quickening my feet. The second floor was dense with silence, my bedroom door slightly ajar.

The hinges creaked creepily as I pushed it open and stepped in, eyes going straight to the bed, which was illuminated by a narrow strip of light stretching across the empty blankets. The bathroom door was pulled around, the light on and shining around the edges making it glow.

Relief flooded me, and I blew out the breath I hadn’t even realized I’d been holding.

“Goldilocks,” I said, grabbing the handle to push it in. “There you are.”

I stopped cold in the doorway, voice faltering as my eyes swept the room, taking in every detail and then going back to do it again.

What. The. Fuck?

Groaning, I rushed to the counter and shoved my hands into the sink to scoop up the silky golden strands I loved so much.

A broken sob burned my throat as the long, wavy hair slipped through my digits like liquid. I stared at it, imagining the way it framed his face, how it felt tickling my stomach when he trailed his lips down my body, and the thrill I got fisting all that hair in my hands.

Gone were those moments. Shaved right from his head.

Shaking the clinging strands free, I glared at the trimmers, which teetered precariously on the edge of the counter, the cord still plugged into the outlet. A few long strands of blond hair were still tangled in the blade.

I shouted, palms slamming down on the hard surface, and the razor dropped over the side and bounced against the ground. Ripping the cord from the outlet, I bent to retrieve it and found more hair dusting the floor.

I dropped the cord, realizing it was everywhere. Remnants of my Goldilocks all over my bathroom. Every time I moved, the feather-light strands would lift off and gust in a new direction.

It was everywhere, even floating in the toilet along with the red thong I’d fucked him in earlier.

Angry, I stomped to the shower, flinging back the curtain as if I expected him to be hiding there, waiting to show me his newly shorn head.

Heat rose up the back of my neck when I found it empty.

Bodhi wasn’t here. But he certainly had been.

If the look on his face during the auction hadn’t been indication enough that I’d hurt him, well, what he left behind in this bathroom unequivocally was.

“Fuck,” I spat, spinning from the shower, eyes latching on to the mirror above the sink.

“Fuck!” I roared again, the thing I hadn’t even noticed before swaying a little with my aggression.

The fact that I hadn’t even noticed my prized whistle said a whole hell of a lot. But there it was in all its glory, taped to the mirror and not in the pocket of the man I’d given it to. And right beneath it was a note scrawled in Landry’s red lipstick.

Time’s up.