Page 29 of The Dating Coach
She tensed immediately, her smile vanishing as she turned toward the voice. A guy about our age stood at the rink entrance – tall, conventionally handsome in that prep school way, with an expression that immediately set my teeth on edge.
"Devon," she said, and the flatness in her voice told me everything I needed to know about their history. "What are you doing here?"
"I transferred this semester. Dartmouth wasn't working out." He stepped onto the ice with the confidence of someone who'd never questioned his welcome. "Wow, you look... the same."
It was an insult disguised as an observation, and I felt Gemma's hands tighten in mine. Devon's eyes tracked the movement, his expression shifting to something calculating.
"And you are?" he asked me, though his tone suggested he didn't actually care about the answer.
"Liam," I said, resisting the urge to add 'her boyfriend' because that wasn't my call to make. "And you're the ex, I'm guessing?"
"Such a harsh term." Devon's smile was all teeth. "Gemma and I had a deep connection. Until her trust issues got in the way, of course."
"Devon," Gemma warned.
"What? It's true. You have to admit, your whole 'I don't need anyone' thing was exhausting." He turned to me with false sympathy. "Fair warning, man. She'll push you away eventually. It's what she does. Too damaged to let anyone get close."
"That's enough," I said, moving slightly in front of Gemma. Not blocking her – she could fight her own battles – but making it clear whose side I was on.
"Protective. That's cute." Devon's smile turned mean. "Did she tell you why we really broke up? How she accused me of cheating because I had study sessions with my lab partner? The paranoia was intense. But I guess when you grow up in a family as fucked up as hers—"
"We're done here," Gemma said, her voice steady despite the way her whole body had gone rigid. "Enjoy the festival, Devon."
She turned to leave, but Devon kept talking. "Still running away from confrontation, I see. Some things neverchange. Good luck, man," he called to me. "You'll need it. Girl's gorgeous but way too complicated to be worth it long-term."
I saw the words hit Gemma like physical blows, each one confirming some internal narrative she carried about being too much, too difficult, too damaged for love. Something protective and fierce rose up in me.
"You know what?" I said, turning back to Devon. "You're right. She is complicated. But she's also brilliant, loyal, fierce, and worth a hundred of whatever uncomplicated, boring alternative you ended up with."
Devon’s jaw tightened. “I’m engaged, actually,” he retorted. “To someone who doesn’t see the world as a threat and actually trusts—”
I laughed, cutting him off. "Trust? You want to talk about trust? You just spent five minutes publicly trying to humiliate your ex-girlfriend—to prove what, exactly? That she was wrong about you? Yeah, you seem super trustworthy."
Devon's face flushed. "You don't know what you're talking about."
"I know enough." I took Gemma's hand again, felt her trembling slightly. "I know you're the kind of guy who tears down the woman he claimed to love because she saw through your bullshit. I know you're still bitter that she was strong enough to leave. And I know you're going to walk away now before this gets less civilized."
"Is that a threat?" Devon puffed up like an offended peacock.
"It's a prediction," I said calmly. "Based on the fact that you're surrounded by hockey players who really like Gemma and really don't like guys who treat women like shit."
Sure enough, Henry and Frank had materialized at the rink edge, drawn by some sort of protective friend radar. Jesse and Tyler flanked them, creating an imposing wall of athletic disapproval.
"Everything okay here, Cap?" Tyler asked, cracking his knuckles in a way that wasn't remotely subtle.
Devon looked between them, then at Gemma, then at me. "Whatever. She's your problem now." He stalked off, nearly wiping out on the ice in his haste to leave.
"What a tool," Frank announced. "Want us to slash his tires?"
"We're absolutely not slashing anyone's tires," Gemma said, but her voice was shaky. "I need... I'm going to return the skates."
She left before anyone could respond, her movements careful and controlled in a way that broke my heart. I followed, finding her at the rental counter fumbling with her laces.
"Hey," I said softly. "You okay?"
"Fine," she said automatically, then sighed. "No. Not fine. Sorry you had to see that. Devon brings out the worst in me."
"Devon is a manipulative asshole who was trying to hurt you," I corrected. "None of that was your fault."
