Break My Heart: An Enemies-to-Lovers Coach’s Daughter Sports Romance (Western Wildcats Hockey)
Break My Heart: Chapter 27

The second our professor dismisses us for the evening, students scatter from the lecture hall like rats from a sinking ship. I close my laptop and shove it into my backpack, trying not to get caught up in the rush. As I sling the bag over my shoulder, a sense of relief washes over me, but it’s quickly replaced by unease. It’s always like this lately. My mind is never fully at peace.

I push through the glass doors of the building and step into the chilly night air. Even though the days are warming up, the evenings still have a bite to them, and I burrow deeper into the collar of my jacket as I make my way down the path toward my apartment. It’s only a short walk—just a quarter mile from campus—but every step tonight feels heavier than the last.

As I pass by the humanities building, the sound of quick footsteps behind me makes my heart leap into my throat. My mind jumps to the worst-case scenario before I can stop it. My pulse races as I swing around, half-expecting to replace the man who refuses to stay buried in my past.

But it’s not him.

It’s just a guy from class jogging to catch up with the girl in front of me. He drops his arm around her shoulders, and they continue walking, laughing and chatting like they don’t have a care in the world. My stomach is a tangle of knots as I force out a slow breath. I’m constantly on edge, waiting for the worst to happen.

It’s exhausting.

I hate how jumpy I’ve become, how every little thing has me thinking about Nathan, about the messages he keeps sending. I thought severing our connection and moving across the country would be enough. Every time my phone vibrates, I wonder if it’s him again. If he’s still there, lurking in the background of my life, refusing to let me move on.

I’m so fucking tired of Nathan controlling my every waking thought when he’s more than likely half a dozen states away, teaching learn-to-skate classes in a small town where no one knows who he is or what he did.

The couple ahead of me turns to the left as I move in the opposite direction.

My shoulders droop with the realization that it might be time to return to therapy. Clearly, I haven’t worked through everything like I’d hoped.

I keep my pace steady, though the prickling sensation of being watched lingers, making the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. The blue safety lights lining the path do little to offer comfort. They’re more like spotlights, illuminating my presence as I hurry past.

When a twig snaps to my left, fear crashes over me. My heart kicks into overdrive as I whip around and scan the darkness for signs of movement.

Could someone be hiding there?

My mouth turns bone dry.

The thought of Nathan, or anyone, following me, makes my chest tighten until I can’t breathe.

Can’t think straight.

It’s all too much.

I don’t want to continue feeling paranoid. Like I’m always looking over my shoulder, waiting for the past to catch up with me.

I’m kicking myself for not taking my car.

For trying to prove a point.

All I’ve done is freak the fuck out of myself.

I quicken my pace, gripping the straps of my backpack tighter, as if that’ll somehow anchor me. The glow from campus begins to fade as I enter the residential area where I live. Greek row is right around the corner. Tons of parties take place here every weekend. But tonight is Tuesday, and it’s quiet. There’s not a soul on the street.

I peek over my shoulder again.

There’s no one.

But that doesn’t stop the odd sensation of being watched—followed—from invading my brain.

As I reach the next block, I realize that Hayes’s house isn’t far. It’s closer than my apartment.

I’ll stop there.

Even if he’s not home, I can collect my scattered thoughts and rein in the terror flooding my bloodstream.

If I’m lucky, one of the girls will be there, and I can cajole them into driving me back to my apartment.

This exercise in trying to take a little control back from Nathan has totally backfired.

It’s also made me realize just how paranoid I’ve become.

As loath as I am to bring him up to my parents, maybe it’s time to tell them what’s going on. For my own personal well-being and mental health, I can’t live like this.

I walk faster, my breathing ragged from the cold air and the adrenaline spiking through my veins. As soon as the two-story blue Victorian comes into view, relief crashes over me.

Thank fuck.

I race across the front lawn before taking the rickety porch stairs two at a time. By now, I’m huffing and puffing. With my heart hammering in my chest, I press the doorbell and glance around. Other than the sound of passing traffic from a street over and the lone cry of a cat, there’s nothing. But still, I can’t shake the odd sensation that someone is stalking me from the shadows.

My Spidey senses are on high alert.

Is it nothing more than a trick of my imagination?

That’s the problem.

I don’t know.

And I’m unwilling to take a chance and replace out.

Fear threatens to swallow me whole as I shift from one foot to the other. When there’s no response, I rap the beveled glass with my knuckles. The lights are on, and music and laughter can be heard from inside the house.

Just as I raise my hand for a second time, the front door swings open, and Bridger Sanderson stares back at me from the other side of the threshold.

A chin lift accompanies his greeting. “Hey.”

I glance past him, hoping to spot Hayes inside. “Hi.”

With a tilt of his head, he narrows his eyes. “Aren’t you Coach’s daughter?”

I blink, thrown off by the question. “Um, yeah. Ava.”

“Right.” He doesn’t move from where he’s planted in front of the door. “So… what brings you to the hockey house, Ava?” Extra emphasis is placed on my name.

I shift my weight, feeling the uncomfortable heat of embarrassment creep into my cheeks. “Is Hayes here?” As casual as I’m trying to sound, a thin waver threads its way through my voice.

Bridger crosses his arms over his chest as his brows shoot up. “You’re here to see Hayes?”

It would be impossible to miss the surprise in his voice.

“Yeah. Is he here or not?” For the first time, it makes me question the impulsive decision to stop by unannounced.

He gives me a long, considering look before stepping aside. “He’s hanging out in his room. Go on up. Second door on the left.”

It’s on the tip of my tongue to ask if he’s alone, but I can’t force the words past my lips. Once the idea pops into my brain, it’s impossible to shake loose.

I jerk my head in a tight nod before slipping past him, grateful he doesn’t ask any further questions, but his parting words stop me in my tracks.

“Coach wouldn’t like you hanging out here.”

My spine stiffens before I turn back to meet his brooding gaze. “Then you should probably do us both a favor and keep that info to yourself.”

He presses his lips into a tight line and glares before turning toward the living room without another word.

With my heart lodged in my throat, I hurry up the stairs. Each step has more doubt creeping in at the edges. After the closeness we’ve shared, replaceing him with another girl would be devastating. By the time I reach the second-floor landing, I’m positive that’s exactly what will happen.

What the hell had I been thinking getting involved with Hayes Van Doren?

Maybe he’s turned out to have more depth than I expected, but does that really matter when he’s a known player?

As I swing a left at the top of the stairs, my gaze lands on his door as it looms in front of me. My hand hovers in the air, but I can’t bring myself to knock and discover the truth.

That I’ve been played.

I lean in, pressing my ear against the thick wood.

Not a sound can be heard from inside.

No voices.

No laughter.

Just silence.

I chew my lower lip before wrapping my fingers around the knob and turning it. The door creaks as I cautiously push it open. It’s entirely possible that my heart is lodged somewhere in the middle of my throat.

The sight that greets me has my eyes widening and air stalling in my lungs.

Hayes is alone, lying naked on the bed.

The terror and concern from seconds ago melt away as my greedy gaze rakes over the length of him.

The man really does have a spectacular body.

His eyes are closed, and earbuds are shoved in his ears. Even if I’d knocked, he probably wouldn’t have heard me. One of his brawny arms is tucked behind his head while his other hand grips his erection. His palm slides along the thick shaft. It takes a handful of seconds to realize that a laptop is on the chair near his bed and angled toward his torso.

Wait a minute…

Is he jerking off on camera?

My hand rises to my mouth as my eyes stay locked on the scene playing out in front of me.

I couldn’t yank them away even if I tried.

Footsteps on the staircase catch my attention, and I slip farther inside the room before quietly closing the door. My spine hits the wall as I stand perfectly still, afraid to move a muscle.

When he arches, I realize how close to coming he is, and arousal explodes deep inside me.

His grip tightens, and a groan falls from his lips as the first spurts of cum erupt from the tip of his cock and land on his lower belly. My core shudders as my panties flood with heat. My mind tumbles back to the other morning when I’d taken him in my mouth. Memories of what he’d tasted like whip through me, and the urge to lick up all the pearly white fluid prods me into movement.

Before I can act on my impulse, his muscles loosen, and his eyelids flutter open. My heartbeat stalls as his heavy-lidded gaze slices to mine.

He freezes, and the energy in the room turns charged.