Chapter 47

47

Bodhi

You think I’d be happy, right?

I was finally a top choice. Finally something someone valued over literally everything else. I’d found unbreakable loyalty.

But you know what I learned? Unbreakable loyalty breaks you.

Ask me how I know.

Thanks for asking, brah.

I know because it was what I’d given to Brynne. When she died, I took her side so hard—so unflinchingly—that it broke me.

My friendships. My relationships. My love of water. I sacrificed everything I was to be true to her memory, and it cost me everything.

And yeah, it felt fucking incredible for Emmett to be so willing to sacrifice everything for me, but why should he have to? I didn’t want loving me to be a sacrifice.

I said I wanted everything. He gave it to me.

He deserved the same.

And he was going to have it.

I could be a persistent little asshole when I wanted to be.

Despite his protests, I rushed from the locker room, grabbing the too-loose pants and hiking them up so I didn’t trip.

“Get back here, Goldilocks,” Emmett roared from behind.

“Fuck off!” I tossed over my shoulder as I reached for the door.

I was so getting my ass spanked for that later. Frankly, I couldn’t wait.

Yanking open the heavy locker room door, I slipped through with the full intention of running after that asshat dean and demanding Emmett’s job back.

I skidded to a halt immediately, the hem of the sweats falling right into a puddle and becoming a sponge for the chlorinated water. I barely noticed, though, because of the Speedo-clad athletes forming a formidable wall between the exit and Dean Cardinal.

The man teetered in his out-of-style loafers, and even with his back turned, I could tell he had no idea how to react.

“This is insubordination,” he told the team. “A poor attempt at intimidation and very unbecoming for the pedigree of athletes in this club.”

No one moved. No one replied. They all stood there half naked, wet, and intimidating as fuck. For the first time… ever, I was actually proud to be one of them.

Too bad that was about to change.

“Out of the way,” the dean bellowed. Making a shooing motion with his hands, he said, “Back in the pool!”

Someone snorted.

“We’d like a word, Dean Cardinal,” Ryan said, stepping away from the large team.

“Then make an appointment with my secretary,” he snipped.

“The PC term is executive assistant.” Kruger corrected him.

“You want the entire team to make an appointment and walk into your office and make a scene?” Ryan asked, his dark eyebrow arching. “We can do that, but you’re already here.”

“This will only take a minute,” Jamie tacked on.

“You don’t all need to come,” Dean Cardinal said. “Mr. Walsh can represent the team.”

“That’s not good enough.” Ryan’s voice was even. Calm. Powerful.

Is this why they call him the fixer?

“We want to all be here when I say this. We want to leave zero room for doubt that every single one of us means this.”

“Fine. What is it you would like to say, Mr. Walsh?”

Behind the team, the doors opened. Because the wall of swimmers was so dense, I couldn’t see who arrived, but after glancing around, the team seemed unconcerned.

Seconds later, Rory, Madison, and Jess slipped around the group to stand against a far wall. They said nothing at all. Just stood there. Seconds later, Max, Win, and Arsen joined them. None of them made a sound.

“Excuse me. This is the Elite pool. You shouldn’t be here,” Dean Cardinal said.

“They’re with us,” Ryan said.

I heard Emmett come out of the locker room behind me and I felt his surprise at the standoff going on in front of him, but I remained focused ahead because this wasn’t over.

“Say what you need to say, Walsh,” Dean Cardinal said.

“We aren’t swimming without Coach Resch,” he said. “You tear up that resignation right now, or this university is about to be without its most prestigious team.”

Dean Cardinal made a sound like a tire being deflated. Kinda nasally, kinda whiny. I felt bad for his wife if that was what he sounded like in bed. Unfortunate.

“Excuse me?” he asked, bolstering his voice.

“Elite will not swim without Coach Resch,” Ryan repeated.

“That is not your decision to make,” Dean Cardinal deadpanned.

“From where I’m standing, it sure seems like it is,” Rush said.

“As members of Elite, as students of Westbrook University, you are under obligation to swim. We have strict guidelines, and barring illness or injury, you cannot simply opt out of training.”

“And who’s gonna make us get in the pool?” Jamie asked, crossing his arms over his broad chest. There was no trace of the laid-back charm he always flaunted. Just then, he was all six feet three, muscles, and frowny face.

The dean’s nose rose an inch or so in the air. “Might I remind you that many of you signed NLIs, a national letter of intent committing to this team? Many of you are receiving financial aid for swimming. These are binding contracts.”

“Those contracts are signed by both the swimmer and the college.” Max spoke up near the wall. “So I am sure you are aware that if the head coach leaves the institution, the swimmer can request a release from the NLI. And I’m pretty sure you also know the institute must grant the release.”

“Who are you?” Dean Cardinal snapped. “How would you know this?”

As he straightened off the wall, the black-and-white flannel tied around Max’s waist swished from under his leather jacket. “I read every single paper when Wes joined this team. I’d never let him commit to something I knew nothing about.”

“For once, your overbearing, possessive ways are helpful,” Wes said from within the group.

Max winked at him.

Dean Cardinal drew himself up, and I admit he was formidable. Probably looked good on the posters and brochures for Westbrook. “Well, if you read them that thoroughly, then you must also know that they won’t be released until the season ends. This season has started. You all swam in the first meet.”

“Not all of us signed those. You can’t make everyone swim. And the ones you can?” Ryan said, picking up where Max left off. “They’ll swim like shit. They’ll tank this team’s good rankings, and your prestigious money maker”—he gestured to the pool—“will become nothing more than an overchlorinated fish tank.”

“You think you are the only swimmers to exist?” the dean roared. “You think I can’t replace every last one of you?”

“Sure, bro, you can. But this season will be over before you do. Your reputation will be in the shitter,” Jamie said.

“Not even Drain-O gonna fix this,” Kruger quipped.

“Who’s gonna recruit the new swimmers?” Rush wondered. “Pretty sure Resch personally scouted more than half this team. I didn’t come to Westbrook because you look good in a suit,” he said. “I came because Coach Resch made me believe I belonged here. He made us all feel like that.”

Heads nodded.

“Your new coach will too.” Dean Cardinal tried.

“We don’t want a new coach,” Lars said. “We won’t swim for anyone but Coach Resch.”

Dean Cardinal spun on his heel. His eyes seemed wild in the center of his face, giving him an outlandish and bewildered appearance. Finding Emmett, he grimaced. “How dare you let them behave this way, Emmett?”

Emmett shrugged. “What do you want me to do? I’m not their coach anymore.”

Philip made that sound again, kinda like a dying bird. “This is how you’ve led this team? Just look at them!” he roared, face going crimson. “Impudent. Disrespectful. Arrogant! If you weren’t already leaving, I’d fire you for declining team morale.”

“Our morale is just fine,” Ryan said. “But yours is questionable.”

“Excuse me?”

“Actually,” Walsh said, taking a step forward and lowering his voice, “it makes me not want to swim for a school that so easily tosses out a coach who’s been nothing but dedicated to this entire university for over fifteen years. He’s shown up every single day, and he’s never asked for anything. The one time he does something you don’t like, you toss him on his ass faster than I can swim a lap.”

“For shame,” Jamie intoned.

“Elite morale is where it needs to be—with our team, which includes Coach Resch. We’re loyal to him because he’s been loyal to us.”

The dean erupted. “He’s sleeping with a swimmer!”

“We don’t care,” someone shouted.

“Well,” Dean Cardinal said. “I have heard you, and I understand your position. Please be advised that this changes nothing. University bylaws state a coach cannot be in a relationship with a student athlete. For those hell-bent on withdrawing from this team—which is an epic mistake—you can put it in writing and see the appropriate parties in administration.” The man glanced over his shoulder at Emmett again. “I hope you’re proud of yourself, Emmett. You took the entire team down with you.”

Emmett was pale, the dark scruff lining his jaw seemingly black against his colorless skin. The bleak splinter in his eyes proved exactly what I knew all along.

This would break him.

“What if I quit the team?” I burst out, rushing after the dean who was trying to forge a path through the swimmer wall.

He stopped. He didn’t turn, but oh, there was interest in the way he tilted his head.

“If I’m not on the team, Coach Resch can stay. There will be no conflict of interest.”

“No,” Emmett growled, wrapping his hand around my bicep and pulling me around. “Absolutely not. You will not give up your place on this team so I can keep mine.”

“But isn’t that what you’re doing?”

He made a face. “That’s different.”

“No, it isn’t,” I retorted, wiggling out of his grasp and going toward Dean Cardinal. “I heard you myself. You told Emmett that you would cut me in a couple weeks because of my injury and the one shitty set of stats this team has for me. So cut me right now. Today. I’ll leave, and Emmett can stay.”

The dean turned around, an apprising glint in his eyes. “I did say that.”

“No,” Emmett demanded. “This is part of his reparation.”

“Does it have to be?” I asked, drawing him up short. “I mean, they really just wanted me out of Malibu, right? So what if we call my lawyer, tell him I have too much water trauma to swim? It’s not even a lie. My therapist can confirm. We can tell them I’ll stay here at Westbrook and attend classes, stay on this side of the country. The Cobalts can’t possibly have an issue with me not swimming when the reason I can’t is because of their son.”

Everyone was quiet, and I spun to Rush. “You can call the lawyer, right? What do you think he’ll say.”

Rush nodded slowly. “He’s a good lawyer. I’m sure he could make it work.”

Hope flared in my stomach, a kindling fire. “So that’s it. I’ll leave the team. You can’t fire Emmett for being with a swimmer if I’m not one.”

“You seem to forget,” Dean Cardinal said, “faculty is not to be involved with any student.”

“Oh, come on!” Kruger bemoaned. “How the hell do you sit down with that broomstick shoved so far up your ass?”

“Benjamin Kruger!” Emmett snapped. “That was too far. Apologize.”

“But, Coach?—”

“Now.”

“Sorry,” he muttered.

Coach cleared his throat.

Kruger rolled his eyes. “I apologize for my lewd behavior, Dean Cardinal. Coach Resch taught me better than that.”

“Yes, well, this is a stressful situation,” the dean allowed.

“You could just rip up that resignation and give Emmett his job back,” I said.

The dean shook his head. “University regulations?—”

“Excuse me, Dean Cardinal,” Arsen said, walking away from the group and over to where we stood. Today, he was wearing a pair of dark-blue ripped-up jeans, a chain hanging from the belt loop to his back pocket, and a white henley waffle tee with the buttons undone at the neck. It was a good combo with the blue Gucci jacket he’d taken off and given to Prism.

“What is it, Mr. Andrews?” the dean asked.

Arsen held out his phone, the silver rings on his fingers glinting. “My father, Senator Andrews, would like a word with you.”

“The senator is on the phone?”

“He left a meeting to take this call.” Arsen gestured toward the phone again.

Dean Cardinal pressed it to his ear. “Senator? This is Dean Philip Cardinal. … Yes, I’m aware.” He listened, making a sound. “Very prestigious. Yes.” His eyes widened. “Policy states?—”

I glanced at Arsen, smirking as he watched the dean get interrupted over and over.

Noting me looking, he leaned in. “He doesn’t stand a chance.”

“Your dad is really a senator?” I asked.

“Are you really a senator’s kid if you can’t use it to your advantage?” he quipped.

Dean Cardinal’s voice grew loud. “Yes, Senator. Yes. I understand.” He made a sound. “Of course. Thank you, sir. It’s very generous.” He glanced at me, then away. “Hm? What’s that? … Of course.” Seconds later, he extended the phone back to Arsen.

“Dad?” Arsen said into the line. After listening briefly, he said, “Thanks, I appreciate this. Will do.”

Arsen disconnected the call and pushed the phone into his pocket. Prism appeared, bare legs sticking out below the blue jacket, and curled his hand around Arsen’s arm.

“Oh, Mr. Prism,” Dean Cardinal said, and Prism looked up. “Your father-in-law wanted me to tell you that if you need anything to call him.”

Prism’s eyes went wide.

“And I’m sorry if this has caused you extra stress.”

Prism’s ears reddened, and he turned his face away from the group.

“Is that all he said?” I asked, feeling impatient.

Dean Cardinal turned to Emmett. “It has come to my attention that as a private university with several large benefactors and a board comprised mainly of alumni, Westbrook is fully capable of making certain… allowances.”

My heart started thundering so hard that I had to strain to hear the rest.

“And because of this, your relationship with Bodhi Lawson is not grounds for immediate dismissal.”

Cheers erupted, people whistled, and clapping echoed around the natatorium. It was a full-on cacophony.

Phweeeeeeeeeeeee!

Emmett silenced all of it with a solo on his favorite sidekick.

I mean, really, should I be jealous?

“What are you saying, Philip?” Emmett asked when everyone fell quiet.

“I’m saying I never wanted to fire you. I warned you weeks ago, trying to avoid this. You remember that, don’t you?” the dean asked.

“What’s he talking about?” I said, turning to Em.

“I’m well aware of the conversation we had,” Emmett replied.

Dean Cardinal nodded. “Considering that, along with your impeccable reputation, successful team performance, longstanding commitment to the college, and, frankly, this impudent athlete loyalty, we would love to have you stay on as head coach.”

Emmett remained stone-faced. “What’s the catch?”

The dean looked at me. “You’re off the team. Looking the other way when he dates a student is one thing. One of his athletes is something else…”

I nodded. “Done. I’ll clear out my locker.”

I made it halfway to the locker room before I felt Emmett pull me around. “You aren’t doing this.”

“You heard the dean earlier. I’m not good enough for this team.”

Anger darkened his face. “Yes, you are. You just need to work on?—”

“I don’t want to swim.” Saying this aloud, finally, was such a relief that I could have melted right into the tiles beneath me.

He drew back. “What?”

“It just isn’t the same without her,” I confessed quietly. “I’m not the same person I was a year ago, and who I am now doesn’t want to swim.”

“But you overcame your trauma.”

“I did. You helped me with that, and I’m grateful. I did miss the water, especially surfing,” I said, wistful for the salty waves and a surfboard. “But I don’t want to compete. Not anymore. My heart isn’t in it. I want to do other things now.”

“What things?” he asked.

“Maybe we could talk about that later,” I said, glancing across the natatorium at the crowd.

“If you want me to agree to this, you’ll tell me right now,” he said, completely stubborn.

“Yes, Daddy,” I whispered, automatically responding to his tone.

He made an agreeable sound, and I felt my cheeks heat. “I didn’t mean to say that,” I whispered.

He laughed under his breath. “I know, baby.” Then, “Tell me.”

“I think I want to study design. Maybe costume design at the theater arts department. Or maybe fashion merchandising.” Much, much quieter, I added, “It’s hard to find good lingerie for men.”

He pursed his lips.

“I used to be pretty good at sketching,” I explained. “I could be good again.”

“Of course you can,” he said, not an ounce of doubt in his eyes.

“You think?”

“I’ll buy you a drawing table with the rest of the furniture we’re getting.”

I wrinkled my nose. “Why are we buying furniture?”

“Because my house is empty, and I want you to have a home .”

“As long as you’re there, it will be.”

His eyebrow arched. “You trying to charm me into getting your way?”

“Is it working?” I was hopeful.

“No.”

I sighed. “It’s what’s best for both of us. You can have me and your job. I can stay in school and have you. Neither one of us will have to give up anything.”

“The reparation…” He hedged.

Rush appeared, phone in hand. “Sabatino says he can make it work.”

I smiled wide and turned to Em. “My lawyer says I don’t have to swim.”

“Whose side are you on?” Emmett groused at Rush.

“Everyone’s,” Rush replied. “And this is what’s best for everyone.”

Emmett sighed.

Rush grunted and spoke into the phone. “It’s a go.”

Optimism had me rising on tiptoes, wrapping my arms around his neck.

“This is hardly the place,” Emmett grumped.

“But technically, you’re still fired, so we aren’t breaking the rules.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Such a brat.”

“You love it.”

“God help me, I do.”

“So does that mean you’re going to un-quit your job, stay on as coach, and I’m just going to be a regular student?”

He sighed. “There is nothing regular about you.”

“Is that a yes?”

“Promise me this is what you really want. If you want to swim, I’ll make it happen. I’ll?—”

I put my hand over his mouth. “I don’t want to swim. Well, for Elite. But maybe we can sneak in here and skinny dip sometime.” I wagged my eyebrows.

He laughed. The sound echoed up to the rafters and swelled my heart.

“Come over here and kiss me before it’s against the rules again.”

I wondered if he could taste the happiness on my lips. It was a flavor I hadn’t experienced in so long. A flavor I knew was now going to be in limitless supply.

A bunch of catcalls and whistles echoed around us, and I laughed as he continued to kiss. When he lifted his head, he was smiling too.

“I love you,” he whispered.

“I know,” I whispered back. “I love you too.”

Letting me go, he walked to the dean and extended his arm. “If you’ll have me, I’d be happy to continue coaching here at Westbrook.”

Dean Cardinal smiled and put his hand into Emmett’s. As they shook, the entire place exploded with cheers, celebration, and sighs of relief.

“ Elite. Elite. Elite. Elite. Elite. Elite. Elite. Elite, ” the team chanted as people did cannonballs into the water.

It went on so long that my ears started to ring, and when I glanced around, I noted Prism had his head buried in Arsen’s chest and Arsen was shielding his ears.

Going to Emmett, I grabbed the whistle hanging around his neck and stuck it between my lips.

Phweeeeee-phweeeeeeeee!

The place went quiet.

“Bro. Did he just use Coach’s whistle?” someone whispered.

“Bro, that’s like a felony around here,” someone whispered back.

“What Malibu Barbie lacks in hair, he makes up for in big balls,” Jamie told them.

Coach glanced down at me. With the whistle still between my lips, I smiled.

“Well, go on,” he told me. “One more time.”

Phweeeeeeeee!

When I was done, my lungs burned, but Emmett looked proud.

“All right, you mouth breathers! You’ve wasted enough of my time!” Emmett roared. “Let’s get wet!”