Breakaway: A Coach’s Daughter College Sports Romance (Beyond the Play)
Breakaway: Chapter 44

ON MY WAY DOWNSTAIRS, I run into my father. It’s petty, but I’ve mostly ignored him over the break. He hasn’t tried to explain why he left the UMass game early—because he never came back after he took that call, Mom just said he had business to take care of—and I haven’t asked for one. I figured that after he acted like nothing had happened over Thanksgiving, I wasn’t about to get more answers at Christmas. I eye him warily as he claps his hand on my shoulder.

“There you are,” he says. “Come into my office for a few.”

“We’re about to watch a movie.”

“I know. This’ll only take a moment.”

I text Penny not to start the movie without me and follow Dad to his office. The room is a certain brand of oppressiveness; the football-related memorabilia, especially the locked case with the Super Bowl rings, dominates the space. I half expect him to sit down at his mahogany desk, but he remains standing, frowning as he looks at his bookcases. Even in tapered sweatpants and a sweater with a Christmas tree on the front, he looks formidable. I stand up straight and resist the urge to flee for the safety of the den, where I’m sure Izzy is complaining about being woken up from her nap and James is doing something adorable with Bex, like feed her a sugar cookie in little nibbles. I’d rather that than this awkwardness.

He looks at me. “Feeling good about your grades?”

I just nod. It took a lot of all-nighters to finish my final essays, but I managed. Penny, not so much. I resist the urge to wince as I think about it. She finally talked to her dad about switching up what she’s studying, and at least the way she tells it, he’s supportive, but that doesn’t mean she feels good about failing half her classes.

“Good, good.” He rubs at his chin. “Has anything been going on?”

“What do you mean?”

“Not—the girlfriend,” he says. “Although I was surprised to hear about that from your sister.”

“Her name is Penny. You met her at the game. If you paid attention.”

“Yes, Cooper, I remember her,” he says dryly. “Ryder’s daughter, huh?”

“He knows.”

He nods, quiet for a moment, apparently needing time to digest the fact I’m dating someone. The news surprised Mom too, but she got over that quickly and bombarded me with a million questions about her. She’s already made me promise to bring Penny along as my date to her and Dad’s foundation gala in March. Dad, meanwhile, looks like I just told him I eloped with a girl I met five seconds ago.

“Your uncle hasn’t been in touch, has he?” he asks.

Uncle Blake. My heart leaps into my throat. “Should he have been?”

“No.” He sighs as he walks to the desk. As he picks up one photograph atop it—I know just the one, it’s of him and Uncle Blake as children at Robert Moses, a beach on the south shore of Long Island—he shakes his head. “But has he been?”

“No.”

He takes in a breath. “That’s good. If he does, tell me, Coop, okay?”

“Is he back in town?”

“Possibly.” He sets the photograph down and turns his gaze on me. “I know you miss him, but the situation is complicated.”

“Complicated how?”

“I don’t know all the details yet. But I don’t want you to get hurt.”

I take a step back. It’s no secret that my dad has never handled Uncle Blake’s problems well, but the thought that he’d hurt me is laughable. Having issues staying sober doesn’t mean you’re violent, or whatever he thinks. “He wouldn’t do that.”

“Son—”

“No, screw that.” I stride to the door. “I don’t know why you can’t just accept that he has problems. It’s not like he’s an axe murderer.”

“I never said that.”

“But you implied it. You’re refusing to help him—”

“You don’t know what I’ve done for my brother.” He takes a step closer. “You don’t know the whole story.”

“I know enough. You’re the one who drove him away to California. Don’t you want him back?”

“Yes,” he snaps. “I want my brother back in my life. But you’re my son, and my responsibility, and until I figure things out, if he tries to get in touch, you’re going to tell me right away.”

I bite back the harsh words I want to hurl in his direction and pull open the door, making sure it slams behind me. I’ve slammed this door so many times, I feel like a seventeen-year-old again, done being shouted at for sneaking out, for buying my truck without Dad’s permission, for getting suspended from school because of a fight, for dozens of reasons. Before today, the last time I slammed it, we’d just finished arguing about whether I’d enter the draft. I’m the one who always breaks first, the one who slams the door shut. He always gets his way. He always wins.

I pull out my phone, not to text Penny—although I have one waiting from her—but to call my uncle.

I’m an adult. If he’s back in town, Dad can’t stop me from seeing him. And after that, I’m sure as hell not going to tell him we’re in touch. If he has his way, he’ll send him to another continent this time, and then I’d never see him again.

The number goes to voicemail. I push past the disappointment and start talking the second the record button beeps. “Hey, Uncle Blake. It’s Cooper. I heard that you’re back in town. I’m still at McKee. If you want to meet up or anything, just call me back. Thanks.”