Page 9 of The Dating Coach
I was certain there was nothing about Liam Delacroix that could surprise me. Tomorrow I’d have to juggle hiding my runaway sister, and keeping up with swim practice—just another day in the disaster my life had become.
As I checked on Mia one more time before bed, seeing her face finally peaceful in sleep, I knew I'd juggle whatever I had to. She was family, and family protected each other.
Chapter 6: Liam
The pool facility should have been locked and empty at 11 PM on a Sunday night. I knew this because I'd checked the schedule specifically to avoid running into anyone during my occasional late-night swim. After a day of overthinking about Friday’s tutoring session with Gemma and dreading next weekend's venue hunting with Hailey, I needed the mindless rhythm of laps to clear my head.
But as I approached the building, I noticed lights reflecting off the water through the high windows. My first thought was that someone had forgotten to turn them off, but then I heard voices – one patient and instructive, the other younger and frustrated.
Curious and slightly concerned about potential vandalism, I used my athlete's keycard to slip inside. The chlorine smell hit me immediately, along with the echo of voices off the tiled walls. I moved quietly toward the pool, staying in the shadows of the bleachers.
What I saw made me freeze.
Gemma Spears stood at the pool’s edge in her team suit, hair pulled back in a messy bun, demonstrating arm movements to a teenage girl who looked like a younger version of herself—perhaps her sister. The girl – she couldn't have been more than seventeen – was in the water, trying to replicate Gemma's movements with obvious frustration.
"It's all about timing, Mia," Gemma said, her voice gentler than I'd ever heard it. "The dolphin kick has to flow from your core, not just your legs."
"I'm trying," the girl—Mia—protested, "but I keep sinking on the second stroke."
"Because you're fighting the water instead of working with it. Here, watch again."
Gemma dove in with practiced ease, her body cutting through the water like she was born to it. She demonstrated the butterfly stroke in slow motion, each movement deliberate and graceful. When she surfaced, pushing wet hair from her face, I forgot how to breathe for a second.
"See how I keep my core engaged the whole time?" she said. "It's not about power, it's about efficiency."
I must have shifted because something caught Gemma's attention. Her head snapped toward my position, eyes widening when she spotted me. The transformation was immediate: her relaxed posture went rigid, her face cycling through panic, anger, and finally a kind of resigned dread.
"What are you doing here?" she demanded, moving protectively between me and Mia, who had shrunk against the pool wall.
"I was just..." I stepped into the light, hands raised peacefully. "I saw the lights on and wanted to make sure everything was okay. I'll go."
"Gemma," Mia whispered, and I could hear the fear in her voice. "What if he tells—"
"He won't," Gemma said firmly, but her eyes on me were pleading in a way that made my chest tight. "Will you, Liam?"
"Tell anyone what?" I said carefully. "I didn't see anything except a swimmer getting some extra practice."
Mia made a small sound – relief or disbelief, I couldn't tell. Up close, the family resemblance was even stronger, thoughwhere Gemma was all sharp edges and defensive walls, this girl looked fragile, like she might shatter at a harsh word.
"I should go," I repeated, but something in Mia's expression stopped me. I'd seen that look before – the hollow-eyed fear of someone whose world had imploded. "Unless... you need help? I mean, I'm not much of a swimmer, but I could time laps or something?"
"And why would you do that?" Gemma asked, suspicion clear in every word.
I thought about Jesse, my teammate who'd spent six months pretending to date girls while slowly dying inside. I thought about my cousin Emma, who still flinched at certain biblical phrases after her parents' attempts to "fix" her. I saw the same fear in Mia that I saw in them.
"Because I have nothing better to do. And let's just say I have experience with family situations that require... discretion," I said carefully.
Something in my tone must have convinced them because Mia whispered, "They want to send me to conversion camp."
The words hit me like a slap shot to the chest. "Fuck. Sorry, I mean... that's..."
"Fucked up?" Mia supplied with a watery smile. "Yeah, that's what I said too."
"Mia ran away," Gemma explained, each word seeming to cost her. "Our parents found out she's gay. They gave her an ultimatum: conversion therapy or leave. So, she left."
The trust she was showing by telling me this – Gemma who'd assumed the worst of me just two days ago – wasn't loston me. I sat on the bleachers, trying to look as non-threatening as possible.
"My cousin went through conversion therapy," I said quietly. "It nearly killed her. Literally. She..." I stopped, not wanting to traumatize Mia further. "She's okay now, living in Seattle with her wife and their two kids. But it took years of therapy to undo what those camps did."
