Ephemeral ➵ Allison Argent (5)

Fifteen

Olivia's POV:

I raise a brow at the rehabilitation center in front of us. "Stepping Stones?" I read off as Stiles, Scott, and I approached the building. "This is the place coach has been for seven months?"

"Yup." Stiles replied and he points to the window. "Look, there he is." I follow his line of vision and staring at the ceiling as he sat on the couch was indeed Coach Finstock in a plaid robe.

Stiles pulls open the door for us and once we were close enough to Coach, I wave my hand in front of his eyes but he didn't even blink once. "Is he...?"

"No, I can hear his pulse." Scott answered as he and Stiles walked to sit on opposite sides of him.. "Hey, Coach? It's Scott, Olivia, and Stiles."

"Coach, it's not like you had a lobotomy." I remark and gesture around the place. "You're in rehab."

He remains still, causing Stiles to huff in annoyance but turns to the checkerboard on the table in front of him. He reaches to touch one of the pieces and instantly coach grabs his wrist.

"Don't you touch it." Coach gritted through his teeth as he sat up properly. "I've got Nurse Gonzalez by the balls of the last three moves and she knows it." He explains with a chuckle as he pats Stiles on the arm.

"Let it go. You're checking out of this place now." Stiles emphasized, causing Coach to snort.

"Not a chance."

"Okay, Coach. The only reason I tagged along is to tell you that you still need to sign off on my hours as your medical assistant for the games so I can graduate but, we know you're fine." I gesture to us but he instantly shushes me with a glare.

"I have a debilitating disease." He stated, causing me to raise a brow in annoyance. "It's called "I'm not going to take another arrow into my stomach-phobia." Look it up." He angrily points to his stomach.

"Nobody's shooting arrows at anyone, okay?" Scott tries to assure. "We just need you to coach the charity game."

Coach lets out a laugh. "Okay. Charity? Not a chance."

"How exactly have you been conning them into letting you stay here?" Stiles questioned.

"I--uh, I have relapses. It's--It's serious. I've had seven of them." He stammered, trying to sound as serious as possible.

Scott furrows his brows. "So...once a month?"

"Yeah, you see--uh, every time they are just about to discharge me, I relapse." He clicks his tongue.

"And no one's noticed that pattern?" Stiles asked with annoyance laced in his tone.

"Coach, this isn't some vacation home for you to continuously stay at whenever you want." I scold with a glare. "This place is supposed to help people that actually want to get themselves clean."

"It is when I have phenomenal health insurance." He remarked. "So why don't you guys get the hell out of here. I hate charity games. They're meaningless."

Stiles blinked, almost as if he was surprised at the comment. "I don't think the charities would agree."

"What's it for this year?" He sighs unamused.

"Cancer." Scott deadpanned.

"For or against?"

I narrow my eyes. "What the--you're joking, right?"

"Against, Coach. Deeply against." Stiles emphasized.

"Yeah, okay, well, I'm deeply not interested." Coach mocked and gestured for us to leave, causing me to shake my head with disbelief.