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It made me doubt my previous resolve to tell her the truth. If I did, she would be pissed. Probably push me away, which she had every reason to do. But she was also in danger. I might be a bad, lying bro, but I would never hurt her physically. And anyone who tried would have to go through me. I couldn’t protect her, though, if I wasn’t there.
Quite a conundrum I was in, huh?
Don’t act surprised I know big words. I’m offended.
“I heard the cops were called to her dorm last night.”
“And you think Elite gossips more than a bunch of tweens at a sleepover,” I goaded. “Did you burn your tongue on the piping hot tea in the teacher’s lounge?”
He made a face like he smelled a fart. Really, what he smelled was his bad attitude. “It’s my job to keep an eye on my swimmers.”
“Well, maybe also keep an eye out for who has it out for Jess.”
“I’d been hoping it was an accident,” he said almost to himself.
“Well, it wasn’t. Someone pushed her down the stairs, and when that didn’t get the desired results, they locked her in a washing machine and turned it on,” I said, my blood boiling all over again, this time not from horniness but from anger.
“The cops have no leads?”
I met his question with a stone-faced stare.
He muttered a few curses beneath his breath.
“Language.” I reminded him.
He gave me a baleful look and stood. “Your swim was good this morning. It’s healthy to channel stress into something positive, but just don’t overdo it. We need you injury-free. Season is coming to an end, and we have nationals coming up.”
“Ah, I get it,” I said, smiling wide while chlorinated water dripped off my lips to splash my teeth. “You missed my jokes.”
“Your jokes are about as useful as a Christmas ornament with no tree,” Coach clapped back.
“Good one.” I commended him.
He grunted. “Get out of the pool.”
I hauled out, flinging water everywhere. “Face it, Coach. I’m the heart of the team. You don’t know how to act when I just keep my head down and swim.”
“It is kinda weird,” Rush said from the side.
“Made me uncomfortable.” Jamie agreed.
“Thought maybe your Speedo was cutting off circulation,” Ryan cracked.
I threw up both middle fingers and headed toward the locker room.
“Kruger,” Coach called. When I turned, he was right behind me. “If you need anything, just call.”
He might be a grumpy whistle tyrant, but he did care about us, and I appreciated that. “Thanks, Coach.”
The door to the locker room wasn’t even shut behind me when my smartwatch buzzed with a notification. I glanced at it as my feet slapped the cold tile floor, thinking it was just some random spam or even my heart rate monitor adjusting now that I was out of the pool, but it wasn’t.
It was a text.
From Max.
My feet squeaked under the force of my stop as I tapped the screen to bring up the full message.
You better get here. Now.
