Breakaway: A Coach’s Daughter College Sports Romance (Beyond the Play)

TRYING to write a paper hungover is bad enough, but add in the stitches, and I can barely focus on my computer screen. Still, this paper is due tomorrow, and despite the upcoming playoffs, I need to keep my grades steady. I’m glancing down at Daisy Miller again, trying to remember the point I was trying to make about the nighttime stroll through the Roman ruins, when the doorbell rings.

Izzy is upstairs with Tangy, working on her own homework, and Sebastian is in his room too, as far as I know. We had each other’s backs during the bar fight, sure, but things are still icy between us. He didn’t thank Uncle Blake for convincing Red’s to forget about the whole fight—in fact, he got them to agree to ban the guy who tried to take the video of Penny and Mia—and the only time we interacted today was when he tried to convince me, again, not to transfer the money to Uncle Blake’s account. I did it already, but I don’t plan on telling him that. Not when it makes him react like Uncle Blake asked me to give him a kidney.

Which I would do if he needed it. Especially after last night. He even called Coach and explained the whole situation while Penny went to urgent care with me. I haven’t spoken to Coach yet, because however justified I was in protecting and defending Penny, I’ve been keeping my temper in check, and the bar fight blew that all out of the water. Since it’s not related to hockey and the other guy started it, I think I’m in the clear, but that doesn’t mean it’s not a loss of control with bad fucking timing.

The doorbell rings again. I heave myself to my feet from my place on the living room floor, books and my laptop spread out in front of the television, and pull open the door. I suppose it’s too much to hope it’s Penny. She would have texted if she was on her way over, and I think she’s at her dad’s house right now, anyway.

It’s my father.

I gulp as I take a step back. The energy radiating off him feels like a bomb—sparking, smoking, right on the edge of going off. He walks in without saying a word. I shove my hands into my sweatshirt pocket as he brushes past me. He stands right in the middle of the living room, glancing around for what feels like the longest moment ever before he finally meets my eyes. The suit, the expensive peacoat, and the watch gleaming on his wrist all feel out of place in our college house. Why is he here? When I texted him to say we won Hockey East, he replied with the thumbs up emoji and a reminder not to get complacent, as well as to be quicker on the forecheck.

Maybe that sort of pressure works for James, but I’m ashamed to know I need more than that. Even an ‘atta boy’ would have made me smile instead of wanting to throw my phone across the room.

His face twists in disapproval as he examines me. I know I look awful; the stitches and the surrounding bruise are disgusting. I’m sure I’m pale, too, hungover and exhausted, my hair greasy and in need of a wash. With the mood I’ve been in today, you’d think we just learned we wouldn’t be making the playoffs at all instead of winning our conference.

He sniffs as he takes off his coat and drapes it on the back of the couch. He’s in a suit jacket, no tie; he takes off the jacket too, then methodically rolls his sleeves to his elbows. “Cooper.”

“Sir.”

He gestures to my face. “Why the fuck did I hear about this from your brother?”

I swallow down the outrage I feel as I glance at the stairs. Fucking Sebastian. Of course he had to bring Dad into this. “Why did you even come here? You could have just called.”

“I was in the city finalizing a few things for the gala.”

The gala. I’ve been so focused on hockey and Penny that I forgot about it entirely. A night in New York City at the Plaza Hotel, pretending to be on good terms with my whole family so my parents can get lots of donations for their foundation. Sounds like hell.

“Well, you can go back to whatever it was you were doing,” I say, ignoring the way my stomach flips; a tiny part of me had been hoping he wanted to congratulate me in person for the conference win. “Uncle Blake and I have it handled. Everything is fine.”

He laughs shortly. “Oh, is that it? You’ve got it handled? My son has stitches on his fucking face because of a bar fight, and my addict brother has it handled? What happened to telling me if he got in touch with you?”

“Hey,” I say sharply. “He’s sober. And he’s actually been here for me recently, no thanks to you.”

He sighs. “Cooper. You don’t know the whole situation.”

“I know enough. He’s your brother, yet he’s never been anything but a screwup to you. No matter what he does, you can’t see him any other way. And it’s how you’ve always seen me. When you even see me.”

He blinks. “What?”

I bite down on my lip, even though it’s aching. My eyes prick with tears. “Don’t pretend you didn’t start ignoring me once you realized I wasn’t going to be a football player like James. Like you. At least Uncle Blake doesn’t act like he wishes I was someone else.”

“I don’t wish—”

“Let’s just stop pretending,” I say, suddenly so tired I feel it in my bones. I wish I was anywhere but here, having this conversation, but I have no choice. The train has left the station. I can’t turn back. “Stop pretending when I know the truth. James has always been your favorite, especially now that he’s the next you. When you look at Sebastian, you just see your dead best friend. Izzy’s your perfect little girl and can do no wrong. Me? I’m your fuckup, and I’ll never stop being that, no matter how hard I try.”

“Is that what you really think?”

“When I made captain, it’s like you didn’t even care.” I press my palms to my eyes, trying to hold back the tears. I haven’t cried in front of my father since I was a little kid, and I’m not about to do it now. “I worked really fucking hard to get there, and you just pointed out my mistakes.”

His mouth opens, but he says nothing. I push past him, heading for the table in the entryway so I can grab my keys. Maybe it’s cowardly to leave, but I need to see Penny. She’s the only one who can make this situation just a bit less shitty. Besides, if I stay here any longer, I’m afraid I’ll do or say something I regret. What did Dad say? Hockey brings out the worst in me? Wouldn’t this be the fucking time to prove him right.

“Cooper.”

I open the door.

“Goddamnit, Cooper, look at me.”

I take a deep breath and shut the door. When I turn to look at him, I feel the first tears fall, but I hold my head high. I glance up the stairs and see Sebastian standing there. He looks stricken, which makes my heart thud dully. What did he think would happen if he dragged Dad into this?

“Your uncle is manipulative.” Dad shakes his head, laughing bitterly. “Whatever he’s been telling you is a lie.”

“You just can’t stand the idea of me having my own relationship with him.”

“He’s using you, and when he thinks you’ve served your purpose, he’ll move on to someone else. You’re not a fuckup, son, but right now you’re sure as hell acting like one.”

I yank open the door. “Thanks for the heads up.”

He follows me onto the porch, but I ignore him. I get into my truck and start it up, and he pounds on the glass, but I just back out of the driveway.

By the time I get to Penny’s house, I can barely see through my tears. I thought I cried hard the night of my birthday, after Penny fell asleep and I didn’t have to be brave for her anymore, but this is worse. I manage to park the truck, and somehow, I find myself ringing the doorbell. Coach answers it. When he sees me standing there, he pulls me into a hug. He doesn’t even say anything, just shuts the door behind us, letting me lean on him with all my weight. His hand rubs my back soothingly.

“Hey,” he says. “Hey, son, it’s okay. Take a deep breath.”