Page 105 of The Breaking Point

Coach had been surprisingly neutral toward me throughout practice, which had been even scarier than if he’d ridden my ass. It meant that he’d had enough time to turn his rage into something colder and more menacing.

“Sit,” Coach said.

I sat, only because I wasn’t sure what Coach would do to me if I didn’t.

He crossed his arms. Then he said, “I’m sorry to hear about your mom. Condolences.”

I felt like I’d just been given whiplash. I swallowed, a lump rising in my throat. “Thank you,” I croaked.

“I know you and your mom had a complicated relationship.” Coach cleared his throat. “Just, if you need anything, you know you can come to me or to Elise.”

I stared at him. Now I was completely confused. Was this not what I’d assumed this would be about?

“Uh, thank you,” I repeated.

Coach nodded and uncrossed his arms.

“Now,” he began, his expression turning ominous, “what the hell were you doing with my daughter in Vegas? Because it looked like you two were dating. Holding hands, buying condoms—” He grimaced. “Christ, what the hell were you thinking?”

I had to bite back a dark smile. This was more what I’d been expecting, and I had to admit, something was comforting in its familiarity.

I didn’t want to think about Mom, or my complicated grief about her passing. I’d rather Coach yell at me so I could yell right back.

I cocked my head to the side. “Do you want to hear the truth, or do you just want to yell at me?”

Coach narrowed his eyes. “You seriously getting sarcastic with me right now? Because you are on major thin ice here.”

“Well, your daughter is an adult. Which means she makes her own decisions about who she dates.”

“Stop fucking tap-dancing around the question. Are you dating my daughter? Yes or no? It’s a simple answer.”

I waited a beat, letting the suspense draw out. I wondered what would happen if I lied even though everybody and their dog had seen those photos of us together.

Then I replied, “Yes, I am.”

Coach swore. He started pacing, like I’d just told him I had an incurable disease.

I had to admit, his visible disappointment was a punch to the gut. I’d known he wouldn’t react positively, but it still hurt.

Because it would mean that he agreed that I wasn’t good enough for his daughter. It meant that, in the end, I was still some punk foster kid who’d never be a real part of their family.

Coach sighed and sat down heavily. “I hate this, Brady. I really do. You’re a decent kid. I’ve always thought so. But you’re not the right guy for my daughter. I thought you knew that.”

I flinched at his words. Had I really been hoping for a fucking miracle? That Coach would welcome me with open arms into the family?

You’re fucking delusional,I thought.You already knew how this would go down. It’s your own fault for hoping for something that could never happen.

“My daughter is innocent. She’s a good girl. She’s not the type of girl you like. You and I both know you have a ... certain type, shall we say,” said Coach.

“Maybe I’ve changed.”

That made Coach bark out a laugh. “Seriously? Come on. I saw you on the plane with that flight attendant.She’sthe type of woman you’re after. Which means you must be pursuing my daughter because you’re bored.”

I gritted my teeth. “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Come on. Don’t fuck with me, Carmichael. I know you. Everybody does. The second you get tired of Grace, you’ll dump her.” Coach’s expression turned dark. “And you’ll break her heart.ThatI won’t stand for.”

“Again, you’re just making assumptions.”

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