Chapter 4

4

Coach (Emmett)

The creak of a door had my eyes flying open. I probably wouldn’t have noticed the sound at all if the house wasn’t dead silent and pitch black.

Ears on alert, I turned my head on the pillow to glance at the clock on the bedside table. I’d only been asleep for an hour.

A muffled sound out in the hallway shifted my attention. Muscles tense, I tossed the covers back and swung my legs over the side of the bed. Heart thudding heavily against my chest, I stared hard at the closed bedroom door as though, if I concentrated hard enough, I could see right through it.

A low voice made my ears strain, but it was too garbled to make out. Worry for my daughter sleeping down the hall overrode everything else, and I bolted to the door and swung it open aggressively.

“You shouldn’t have called me.” Rush stood in the dark hallway, bare back tense and slightly bent forward. He had one finger plugged into the ear not pressed against his cell.

A beat passed, and he made a noise low in his throat. “Where are you?”

He barked out an unamused laugh. My daughter’s boyfriend was a class-A asshole. I’d say he had the ability to freeze the balls off a brass monkey, except he was too hot-headed for it. If someone had told me at the beginning of last year that my daughter would be dating a guy who not only got kicked out of his prestigious university but was banished all the way to the other side of the country because he was arrested for murder, I would have driven them to the looney bin myself and checked them in for the help they clearly needed.

Yet here I was, staring at his shirtless back standing outside her bedroom in the middle of the night. Not only that, but he was one of my swimmers.

Maybe it was me who needed the looney bin. Not that I hadn’t tried to forbid the relationship. I did. Loudly. But doing that was about as useful as a one-toothed beaver in a petrified forest.

Pointless.

Besides, Jason Rush might be an asshole, but I learned it was a defense mechanism. It was easier to be a stone-faced bastard than let people continually rip out your heart.

I understood that more than most, which made it hard to disapprove. Plus, he loved my daughter, Landry. Not even I could deny what was right in front of my face. Could have been worse, I supposed. She could have fallen in love with some spineless jellyfish that ran at the first scowl I sent his way.

I’d much rather have my only daughter date someone who would wield his cantankerous temper to protect her.

“What do you want me to do?” Rush said, frustration swelling his shoulders. I watched him lift a hand to his face and squeeze the bridge of his nose.

His gruff, harsh laugh echoed in the hall. “This is fucking rich,” he spat. “When I was in jail, you gave less than two shits. But now that you?—”

His voice fell silent, and then he burst out with, “Whose fault is that, Bodhi? Who?”

Recognition slammed into me, and I straightened. What I’d done between the sheets merely an hour ago singed me with shame.

Rush let out a gruff noise and spun, instantly seeing me standing a few feet away.

“Coach.”

I told him he could call me Emmett when we weren’t at the pool, but sometimes he forgot, and right now, he was clearly distracted.

“What’s going on?” I asked, not even planning to give him his privacy. This was my damn house.

And he was talking to my damn Goldilocks.

No . No, he isn’t.

“I didn’t mean to wake you,” Rush told me. Into the line, his voice was curt. “Hold on.”

He started to turn away, but I slammed my hand onto his shoulder and squeezed. “Don’t you take that drama where my daughter is sleeping. In the kitchen. Now.”

Rush’s eyes narrowed, and I met them head on. “Now, Jason.”

Surprise flickered in his expression, but it didn’t mask the relief chasing it. Clearly, whatever the hell was going on was something he didn’t particularly want to handle. The kid had scars whether he was willing to admit it or not.

With me, he didn’t have to. Like recognizes like.

I stepped back and gestured for him to go. He did, and I followed him down the stairs and into the kitchen. The only light was the one illuminated above the stove, but it was enough to see so I didn’t bother with the overhead.

“I’m still here,” he said into the line, then added, “Even though I should hang up.”

“Put it on speaker,” I ordered.

Rush’s stare whipped up. “What?”

Impatient and oddly anxious, I stomped forward and snatched the cell right out of his hand. He made a surprised sound but didn’t grab it back as I tapped the speaker icon on the screen.

“You are literally the last person left for me to call.” His voice filled the room.

My body didn’t move, but internally, the reaction was visceral. Adrenaline spiked in my veins, flipping my stomach and sharpening my attention.

“We aren’t friends anymore, Bodhi.” Rush’s voice was flat. Resolved. The way he shifted, though, screamed guilt.

The silence that followed was heavy and woven with regret. The low, defeated voice was barely audible and punched a hole right through my chest. “I know.”

“Two minutes!” someone bellowed in the background.

Beside me, Rush tensed.

“You’re in jail?” I demanded.

Pause. “Who is this?” His voice was much stronger than it was just seconds ago.

“Coach Emmett Resch.”

A rude sound echoed through the line. “Whatever. Forget I called.”

A ripple of panic disturbed everything beneath my skin.

“Wait,” Rush called.

The line went quiet, but I knew he was there because the background noise gave him away.

“What did you do?” Rush asked.

“They burned our lives down around us. Why should they get a happy-ever-after while the rest of us ache?”

“I didn’t ask why. I asked what,” Rush replied.

I glanced up at him, surprised at how uncaring he managed to sound.

My heart was in my throat, trapped like a bird in a cage. The empty space beneath my ribs felt hollow with a cold draft.

“I burned down the Cobalts’ guest house.”

A muscle in Rush’s jaw jumped, and a strangled sound ripped out of me. “You did what?”

“Call your lawyer,” Rush replied, voice even.

Maybe he could freeze the balls off a brass monkey after all. It was unfathomable to me in this moment because I burned with wrath.

“He refused my call.”

“Your parents.” Rush tried again.

“They cut me off.”

“What the fuck, Bodhi?” Rush burst out, his final reaction filling me with satisfaction. “Why would they do that?”

“Because I deserve it.”

The breath whooshed out of me, and I started to pace. The self-degradation and defeat I heard in his tone was a far cry from the golden-haired brat who showed up at my pool filled with rebellion.

You don’t know him, Emmett. You literally laid eyes on him twice. He’s a kid.

I knew all that. I agreed with it.

It didn’t matter.

My voice was gruff. “Where are you?”

Pause. “Two Towers.”

Rush shot up from the counter he was leaning against. “Why not Lost Hills?”

“I was there first. For a few days. Got transferred here.”

“Why?”

“No bail,” Bodhi answered. Then, “Punched a cop.”

“Time’s up!” a deep voice told him.

“Okay.” Bodhi agreed.

“I’ll see what I can do,” Rush said, the words pained.

Hope injected a little personality into the otherwise morose voice. “Really?”

Rush grunted. “No promises.”

And then the line disconnected, the beeping sound on the other end filling the silent kitchen as we stood there staring at the phone still clutched in my hand.

After a moment, Rush took the phone and ended the call, dropping the device into the pocket of his gym shorts.

“What was that all about?” I questioned.

“You heard the call,” Rush rebutted.

I gave him a what did you just say to me look, and he exhaled, rubbing his palm down his face.

“Bodhi Lawson,” he said. “You met him when he showed up at the pool last semester, tossing out insults and causing trouble.”

I remembered. I remembered more about it than I should.

“He’s the brother of that girl you knew who died, right?”

His face twisted in disgust that I would dare ask him to go through this again, but I didn’t give a damn. I’d get my whistle and force it out of him.

“They were twins.” He elaborated. “My best friends. I thought of them like family…” Rush swallowed.

“And then the sister got murdered and the cops blamed you.”

“Brynne. Her name was Brynne,” he told me. “And yeah, she died. I got blamed.”

“But you didn’t do it,” I put in, hoping he realized I knew he didn’t do it and I never really believed he did. I wouldn’t have given him a chance here at Westbrook if I had.

Even so, I busted his balls about dating my daughter. A father has that right.

Don’t make me get my whistle. I’ll use it on you too.

Rush snorted. “No one believed me. Not even my best friend.” He shifted and looked up at me. “I called him from jail. He wouldn’t take the call.”

“And now he’s calling you from the same place.”

Rush made a rude sound. Then, “I wasn’t at Two Towers. My lawyer got me out on bail before I was transferred.” Clearing his throat, he added, “That place is the world’s second-largest jail. It’s in LA. Maximum security and holds mental health inmates. It’s crowded and rough.” To himself, he said, “Probably why he called so late. It can take hours to get a phone call there, and even longer to get one to go through.”

Worry sliced through me at the grim picture he painted. I tried to convince myself the bratty blond my swimmers dubbed Malibu Barbie had enough ire to survive in a place like that. But I was having trouble reconciling the kid I met with the one I’d just heard on the phone.

The sound of Jason’s swallow was audible in the shadowed kitchen. “He doesn’t belong in that place.”

I know.

“What do you want to do, son?”

“I should do nothing. That’s exactly what he did for me.”

My stomach clenched, but I respected that answer because people had every right to draw their boundaries and protect themselves. How else were we to survive? “All right, then.” I accepted it. “Go back to bed.”

His feet shuffled, but he stayed in place.

My stomach dipped, tongue sliding over my teeth. Unable to stay still, I went to the fridge and grabbed a bottled water to take a healthy swig. I’d rather it be beer, but I had to set a good example.

“Classes start next week,” he said.

I didn’t reply.

His phone lit up in his hand as he gazed at the screen. “I could be back before then.”

“You gonna call your parents?” I asked. They lived in Malibu and were richer than God. They treated Landry really well, and that was all that mattered to me.

Rush shook his head slowly. “It would be unfair to put them in the middle of this. I already put them through too much.”

“You can’t go to that crowbar hotel by yourself.”

“Crowbar hotel,” he repeated.

“I’m not having it. My swimmer…” I cleared my throat. “My future son-in-law deserves better.”

“Well, I’m sure as hell not bringing Landry.” He was absolute.

“I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt because it’s the middle of the night and the call was a surprise and not declare you an absolute dingbat for implying I’d ever allow my daughter to go to some packed pokey in the middle of LA.”

He rolled his eyes.

I hoped he’d find his brain back there. Dingbat.

Hey, I only said I wouldn’t call him that out loud.

“I’ll book the flights.” I decided.

He gaped. “You’re going to come?”

“You aren’t going alone. Besides, I know how to handle unruly swimmers.”

“Bodhi doesn’t swim anymore. He dropped out of Pembrook after Brynne died,” Rush explained.

“You aren’t going alone.

“I can call my lawyer.”

“Probably a good idea.”

He eyed me. “You’re really going to come?”

“You really don’t want me to?”

He bit his lip, then nodded. “I’d appreciate it.”

“I’ll book the tickets. We’ll leave first thing.”

“What about practice?”

“Landry can run it while we’re gone.”

He nodded.

“And you will owe me extra laps when we get home,” I added.

He half smiled. It was the first sign of the Rush I knew since we’d hung up the phone.

“Go on,” I said, gruff, heading to the living room for my laptop. I wasn’t about to book plane tickets on a cell phone.

“Co—Emmett?” Rush called.

I stopped and looked over my shoulder.

“He’s not my friend anymore.” It seemed really important that he remind me of that. Or maybe he was reminding himself.

“It’s okay to want to help him, son.”

“Brynne would want me to.”

My heart clenched. “Yeah.” I agreed. “She probably would.”

This was just further proof this kid had a gaping heart buried beneath the chip on his shoulder. He didn’t owe any of these people anything. Hell, they owed him. But here he was, unable to turn his back.

He stood there a minute longer as though he wasn’t sure how to break free from the moment.

“Go on,” I said, gruff. “Go back to bed before I decide I’m tired of you shacking up with my daughter.”

“I’m not shacking up with her,” he retorted. “I love her.”

I turned away and smiled. “Yeah, yeah.”

“Hey, Coach.”

“Emmett.” I reminded him.

“Emmett.”

“What now?” I bitched.

“Thank you.”

The two words caught me off guard. Probably one of the only times he’d said them.

“You’re welcome,” I replied, feeling like shit. Yes, I was going to support Rush, but it was also a damn good excuse to put eyes on Bodhi.

He’s too young for you. Damaged. Nothing but pure trouble.

That only makes me want him more.

Rush started up the stairs, and I opened my laptop. “I’m booking you the seat at the very back of the plane. Next to the bathroom. Better pack nose plugs.”

“Forget it. I’ll go alone,” he called.

I pulled up the screen to book the earliest tickets I could find.

I should have let Rush go alone.

I wasn’t going to.