Page 27 of Falling for the Felid
It’s not a question, but I nod. “Yes, sir.”
“While I recognize that you were provoked, your response was excessive and put the health and safety of your teammates in danger. This team has a poor enough record as it is, and I will not allow our performance to be impacted by bad impulse control.”
He’s going to fire me. “I’m sorry, sir. It was— I’m sorry.” It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell him, but I can’t. This isn’t the right time.
“Do you have anything to say for yourself?”
I take a breath and surprise myself. “Is Sarcnet okay?”
Coach’s face doesn’t change—not that I notice, anyway. Demons are so hard to read. “He’ll be fine. He’s with the medical team now, and then he’ll be collecting his things and leaving the facility permanently.”
Rampaging hormones are no match for the utter despair that overtakes me, and my erection gives up all hope. He fired Sarcnet. For charging me? I’m gone, then. What I did was so much worse. “Oh.”
“You’re a talented player, Ansas, and I don’t believe you’ve been developed to your full potential. You’ve been held back by poor coaching, a mediocre team, and your propensity to react violently with little provocation. I had hopes that you would be able to overcome those limitations, but if you do, it won’t be on?—”
“Wait,” I interrupt, suddenly desperate. “I’m sorry, I need to tell you, there are extenuating circumstances.”
He sighs and sits back, clearly not believing me. “Really.”
“Yes. I’m not trying to absolve myself of blame. I know I need to do better and work on my control, but it’s a lot harder right now than…” Fuck, how do I explain this without sounding like I’m making excuses? “For the last couple of years, I’ve been more, uh, volatile than usual. I’m not sure how much you know about shifters and our physiological development, but?—”
“Reproductive puberty?” For the first time since I met him, I can clearly read Coach Locke’s expression. I’ve surprised him. Not as much as he just surprised me, though. “You’re going through reproductive puberty?”
I nod, relieved that he knows it exists. That’s a step up from Franks. “Yeah. Yes.”
He looks at me steadily. “That’s not anywhere in your file.”
“No.” I wince. “It wouldn’t be. I, ah, mentioned it to Coach Franks, but he… he didn’t think it was an issue.”
Locke is silent for a moment. “None of the trainers have said anything, and it’s not in their notes, either.”
This is painful. “I spoke to Edison about it, when it started. He was the one who told me I should speak to Coach. But I guess when he didn’t get any instructions about it, he…” What? Dismissed my health concerns? “…forgot.”
His lips tighten slightly, and I hope I didn’t just get Edison in trouble. He’s one of the better trainers we have. I don’t blame him if he did forget—this team is chronically understaffed because nobody could stand working with Franks, even tangentially.
Locke sits forward suddenly, startling me. “I apologize,” he says, which startles me even more. “It’s clear to me that this club has mismanaged your training and failed in our duty of care to your physical well-being.”
What?
“Is it okay with you if I get Edison to join us now so we can set up your new training plan?”
What?
“I… yes?”
He eyes me. “Has the adrenaline cleared? Did you get some electrolytes and a snack?”
I stare at him blankly, and he sighs. “Felix, are you aware of the studies that show high-pressure situations and extreme athleticism can have a major impact on shifters in reproductive puberty?”
My eyes go wide. “There are studies?” Why didn’t I know that? It seems like it might be relevant to my situation.
Locke nods, getting up and going over to the mini fridge against the wall. He opens it and grabs a bottle of Gatorade, then fishes a protein bar out of the box on top. “Yes. Extensive studies, and they all show that consistent adrenaline spikes—the kind you experience all the time as a peak athlete—can have a negative magnifying effect on the hormones that are wreaking havoc on you right now. They also have the side effect of prolonging your puberty, because your body has to split focus between puberty and the demands you’re making on it.” He hands me the snack and retakes his seat. “You should have been put on a regimented diet and training plan to mitigate the impact of the adrenaline spikes.”
I sit there, Gatorade in one hand and protein bar in the other, and try to breathe past the heavy weight that’s suddenly on my chest. “There’s a way to make it easier?”
Coach nods. “To the best of my knowledge, it won’t make it go away, but the hormonal incidents won’t be as bad.”
Hot tears flood my eyes, and I blink hard.
