Page 18 of Beastkin

“Good work today, gentlemen,” Coach said, his clipboard tucked under his arm. “Hit the showers. Laurent, a word.”

Shit.

The others filed toward the locker room, Silver giving me a sympathetic glance over his shoulder. I trudged over to Coach Flannery, trying not to look like a kid heading to the principal’soffice.

“You wanted to see me, Coach?”

Coach waited until the others were out of earshot. His blue eyes studied me with that penetrating werewolf gaze that always made me feel like he could see straight through my bullshit.

“You started rough today but pulled it together.” He crossed his arms. “Want to tell me what’s going on?”

I shrugged, looking down at my clawed feet. “Just getting back into the swing of things.”

“Bullshit.” His voice wasn’t angry, just matter-of-fact. “I’ve been coaching long enough to know the difference between physical rust and emotional distraction. And I’ve been a werewolf long enough to smell when something’s eating at one of my players.”

I shifted uncomfortably. Coach had always been able to read me like this, even before Damien’s attack. He’d been one of the first people to visit me in the hospital afterward, one of the few who didn’t look at me with pity.

“It’s nothing,” I said finally. “Just saw someone I used to know. It threw me off.”

Coach’s eyebrows rose slightly. “Someone from before the attack?”

I nodded, the words feeling thick in my throat. “Yeah. Way before. We were kids.”

Coach’s expression softened slightly, and he glanced toward the locker room where I could hear the distant sound of my teammates laughing and horsing around under the showers. When he looked back at me, there was something almost paternal in his eyes.

“Good friend?”

“The best.” The admission slipped out before I could stop it, and I felt my chest tighten again. “We grew up together. Did everything together. Then one day his family just... left. No warning, no goodbye. Nothing.”

Coach was quiet for a moment, his werewolf hearing probably picking up the pain I was trying to keep out of my voice. The late afternoon sun cast long shadows across the practice field,and somewhere in the distance I could hear the lacrosse team running their own drills.

“And now he’s here,” Coach said. It wasn’t a question.

“Yeah. Saw him in class today. He looked right through me like we’d never met.” I kicked at a divot in the turf with my claw. “Maybe we hadn’t. Maybe I made the whole thing up in my head.”

“Did you?”

The simple question hit me harder than any tackle. I thought about those summers in the woods, Phoenix’s laughter echoing through the pines, the way he’d curl up against my fur when we’d rest by the creek. The absolute trust in his eyes when I’d shift forms, never flinching away like everyone else did.

“No,” I said quietly. “It was real.”

Coach nodded slowly. “Then maybe there’s more to his reaction than you think. People change, Laurent. Sometimes circumstances force them to.”

I wanted to argue, to tell him that Phoenix could have found a way to reach out over the years if he’d really wanted to. But something in Coach’s tone made me pause. There was experience there, pain that felt familiar.

“You speaking from experience, Coach?”

His mouth quirked up in a sad smile. “Let’s just say I know what it’s like to have someone you care about disappear from your life. Sometimes it’s not their choice. And lots of people, especially in this school, don’t show their true colors in public. Widdershins is full of secrets and so are its students.”

I started at him for a long moment. There was something in his eyes, an old melancholy that I didn’t recognize. He opened his mouth for a moment like he was going to say something, then clamped it shut.

“What do I do?” The question came out more vulnerable than I’d intended, but Coach didn’t seem to judge me for it.

“You focus on what you can control,” he said firmly. “Yourgame, your grades, your team. If this friend wants to reconnect, he’ll find a way. If not...” He shrugged. “Then you move forward.”

I nodded, even though every instinct in my body was screaming at me to hunt Phoenix down and demand answers. Coach was right, though. I’d spent too much time letting other people’s choices control my life.

“Thanks Coach.”