Page 60 of The Dating Coach
"Delacroix. My office. Now."
I made my way across campus, expecting a lecture about disrupting practice. Instead, when I arrived, he closed the door and leaned against his desk with a heavy sigh.
"Dr. Sarah called me," he said without preamble. "From the LGBTQ+ center. She wanted me to know what my players were doing – protecting that young woman."
"Coach, I—"
"I'm proud of you," he interrupted. "All of you. That's what a team does – protects its own. But son, this could get complicated. Legal complications. NCAA violations if they claim we're providing improper benefits."
"She's Gemma's sister," I said simply. "That makes her family."
"I understand that. But her parents clearly have resources if they've hired a PI. You need to be smart about this." He pulled out a business card. "My brother-in-law is a family lawyer. Specializes in cases like this. Call him."
I stared at the card, touched by the unexpected support. "Coach..."
"I've been doing this for thirty years," he said gruffly. "I've seen kids destroyed by parents who claim to love them. If that girl needs protecting, then we protect her. But we do it smart. Document everything. Consider legal options. And Delacroix?"
"Yeah, Coach?"
"Win this weekend. Nothing shuts up critics like victories."
I left his office feeling simultaneously supported and worried. The team had Mia's back, but how long before thepressure became too much? Before someone cracked and gave information to the PI?
I found Gemma at the campus legal aid office, surrounded by pamphlets about restraining orders and harassment law. She looked exhausted, stress etched in every line of her body.
"Hey," I said softly, not wanting to startle her.
She looked up, and the relief in her eyes made my chest tight. "He actually showed up. They actually hired someone to hunt her down like she's some criminal."
"We knew they might," I reminded her, settling beside her. "We're prepared for this."
"Are we?" She gestured at the legal documents spread before her. "Restraining orders require evidence of threat. Harassment charges need documentation. Everything takes time and money and—"
"Hey." I caught her hands, stilling their frantic movement. "Breathe. We'll figure it out."
"How?" The word came out broken. "I'm barely keeping my head above water with classes and swimming. Mia's terrified to leave the house. Now we have to worry about private investigators and legal battles and—"
"You don't have to do this alone," I interrupted. "That's what you keep forgetting. We have resources too."
She laughed bitterly. "What resources? I have student loans and a part-time job that barely covers groceries."
I took a deep breath, decision made. "I have a trust fund."
She went still. "What?"
"From my grandparents. Accessible when I turn twenty-two in two months." I squeezed her hands. "It's not millions, but it's enough. Enough for lawyers, for security, for whatever Mia needs to be safe."
"I can't take your money," she said immediately.
"You're not taking anything," I corrected. "I'm choosing to use resources I have to protect someone I care about. Someone we care about."
"Liam—"
"My grandmother set up that trust because she wanted me to have choices. To not be dependent on my father's approval or hockey's success. What better use than protecting family?"
"We're not your family," she protested weakly.
"Aren't you?" I challenged. "Mia teaches Frank calculus and beats Henry at cards. She has her own hook in the coat closet and opinions about which cereal we buy. You fall asleep in my bed more nights than not. If that's not family, what is?"
