Breakaway: A Coach’s Daughter College Sports Romance (Beyond the Play)
Breakaway: Chapter 63

March 3rd

DAD

Cooper, we need to talk.

There are things you need to know about your uncle.

Cooper, please pick up your phone

March 5th

JAMES

Coop, what Dad has to say is important

What, are you ignoring me too?

You better still be coming to the gala

March 9th

PENNY

Are you sure this is a good idea?

He’s more of a dad to me than my own father, Pen

Okay

Just… make sure you’re being careful

Did Seb talk to you?

No. I’m just worried about you

The Callahan Family Foundation Annual Charity Gala—yeah, a real mouthful—is my mother’s pride and joy, which means she expects all four of her children to be on their best behavior. Tuxedos and ballgowns are mandatory. Bickering is met with a swift glare. Most years, I use up my patience for small talk an hour in; there are always new friends of my parents to meet and make nice with. Last year, when Bex attended for the first time, people were so into her and James’ lovebird act that Sebastian and I snuck out of the ballroom and crashed a wedding going on next door. This year, I have Penny on my arm, and while I wouldn’t have it any other way, I have a feeling we’re going to draw a lot of eyes. She should, looking hot as fuck in her emerald ballgown, complete with strappy gold heels and matching hoop earrings, and of course that wildfire hair hanging loose around her shoulders.

The other difference is that I have Uncle Blake with me. Fuck you, Dad. I hope you enjoy watching me bring him around to all your benefactors.

At the entrance to the Plaza, Uncle Blake stops, adjusting his bow tie. “Haven’t been to this in years. Not since you were tiny.”

“Yeah, well, you should’ve been here all along. Dad’s been an asshole to you.” I scuff at the sidewalk with my shoe, squeezing Penny’s hand. Having her here means more than she knows, even if the past few days have been tense. I shouldn’t have pushed her to say those words. “He needs to know that you’re part of this family and not going away.”

Uncle Blake claps his hand on my shoulder. “To new beginnings. I move into my new apartment tomorrow. You can come see me in the city anytime you want, you and Penny both.”

I pull him into a hug. “And the job?”

“I’m back.” He squeezes me tight. “I couldn’t have done it without your support.”

Before we follow him to the entrance, Penny tugs on my hand. She pulls me into a kiss. “If you need a break, let’s replace a closet.”

I laugh against her mouth. “I lo—”

Stopping myself hurts, but I do, cutting my own words off with another kiss. If I keep pushing, and she feels backed into a corner, she might give into something she doesn’t really feel—or maybe she’ll bolt. I clear my throat. “Sounds good.”

The person checking names at the door frowns when Uncle Blake gives his, but once I lean in and explain the situation, he waves all three of us through. My parents go all out for this event, but this year feels fancier than most; when we enter the ballroom, I can’t decide where to look. A live band is playing on a stage at the other end of the room. The tables are set neatly, each with a white-and-blue flower arrangement in the center and full crystal dinnerware. There’s not one, but two full bars, and servers in white shirts and dress pants walking around with trays of hors d’oeuvres. The chandlers overhead sparkle in the low light. I asked my mother once why she always had the gala during the worst part of the year, late winter in New York, when the weather is still bitter and any snow that’s left is sad and gray, and she replied she did it for that very reason; she wanted to give herself—and her friends and colleagues and benefactors—something to look forward to in the dreary days of early March. By the way Penny’s breath catches, I think she hit the right note between magical and sophisticated.

“I’m going to the bar,” Uncle Blake says.

I think the alarm shows on my face, because he laughs and says, “For a seltzer, kid, calm down.” He weaves through the crowd with his head held high, like he knows he belongs here.

“Want a glass of wine?” I ask Penny. “They won’t check IDs at this.”

“Um, sure.” She trails her fingers over the nearest chair. It’s gold, with a blue silk bow tied around the back. “This is really… really fancy, Cooper, are you sure…”

I brush my lips against hers. “You’re the prettiest girl here. Come on, I have people I want to introduce you to.”

Before we get very far, though, my mother spots us. She’s wearing a deep blue gown with a silk shawl tied around her shoulders. Her hair is done in some sort of complicated knot, held atop her head with a crystal-studded clip. The crow’s feet at the corners of her eyes crinkle as she pulls me into a hug, then does the same for Penny.

“Darling,” she says. “Izzy is still getting ready, but your brothers are around here somewhere. You both look so beautiful. Thank you for coming, Penny.”

“Thanks for inviting me,” Penny says. “This is really incredible, Mrs. Callahan.”

“Oh, call me Sandra.” She squeezes Penny’s arm, flicking her gaze to mine for a moment. My heart swells. “I’ve just been so thrilled about the two of you dating, you have no idea.”

Then she leans in, the smile dropping right off her face. “Sweetie, you need to tell your uncle to leave.”

I’m shaking my head before she even finishes her sentence. “No.”

“Your father doesn’t want him here.” She glances over to the bar, where Uncle Blake is laughing with the bartender. “And frankly, I don’t want him here.”

I take a step back. I had been expecting this from Dad, but from Mom, too? “But… Mom, he’s family.”

She gives me a firm look, reaching out to cup my cheek with her hand. “And sometimes family is best loved from a distance.”

“No. That’s not fair.” I shrug away from her touch. “He’s clean. He’s sober. He moved back to New York to be with us again.”

She sighs. “Oh, Cooper. He said that when you were seven. Then he tried when you were ten, and again when you were seventeen.”

“And instead of helping him, you keep driving him away.”

“No,” she says sharply. Her lip wobbles, a wave of heartbreak coming over her face. Fucking hell. I thought that even if Dad doesn’t understand, she would, and the fact she’s not even mad, just upset—upset because of something I did—hits me like a strike to the ribs. “We tried for so long, but some things can’t be forgiven. Your father and I couldn’t have lived with ourselves if you got hurt again. Make him leave, Cooper, please. We can talk about this later.”

“Again?” Penny says. “What do you mean, again?”

“That was just an accident,” I say slowly. “Mom, it wasn’t his fault.”

“What accident?” Penny tugs on my arm. “Cooper?”

Mom presses her lips together tightly. “I’m asking him to leave, and if he doesn’t, I’ll have security escort him out.” She wipes quickly at her eyes, then blinks twice, standing up straighter. She plasters a smile back on her face. “You need to trust me, honey.”

“He’s not some criminal!” My voice rises even though I don’t mean for it to; a couple of people glance our way. Mom strides across the room, and I follow her, but Penny digs her heels in to stop me.

“Cooper,” she says. “I think you should listen to her. And your dad. Something’s not right.”

“You too?” I grind out. “Penny, seriously?”

“It’s just weird that he asked you for all that money.” Her eyes search mine. “Think about it, Cooper. What grown man asks his nephew for that much money?”

“It’s to pay off his rehab costs.”

She shakes her head. Her voice is very soft. “No rehab is over a quarter of a million dollars.”

“What, are you some expert on it?” I can’t keep the venom out of my tone. I shake her off and stride after my mother.

My father beats both of us.

If I thought I knew what my father looks like when he’s mad before this, I had been witnessing no worse than mild irritation. Rage practically dances across his features; his mouth is a tight slash, his gaze so dark even I’m taken aback. He snatches the glass right out of Uncle Blake’s hand, sniffs it, and slams it down on the top of the bar.

“Gin,” he snarls. “That was always your favorite, wasn’t it?”

“Richard, honey,” Mom says, glancing around. Her smile is all wobbly again. “Please don’t make a scene.”

“Oh, I’ll make a fucking scene.” He glances at me for half a second before grabbing my uncle by the shoulder and practically dragging him to the nearest door. “You’ve always been good at worming your way into places you don’t belong, Blake, I’ll give you that.”

“Dad!” I shout. My voice rings through the room, and I know I’m drawing too much attention, but right now, I don’t fucking care. I take a step forward, but someone grabs me around the waist.

“Don’t,” James says into my ear. “Let him handle it.”

I elbow him hard, and I must startle him, because he breaks away with a curse. “Cooper.”

“Fuck you,” I say. “You don’t understand.”

James grabs me by the elbow and hustles me to the wall. I can see Penny hovering; she puts her hand on Mom’s arm. The band is still playing, so I doubt the guests milling around can hear us, but they sure as hell can see us.

“Listen to me,” he says. “Uncle Blake is using you.”

I laugh. “You’re just like Dad. He says jump, you ask how fucking high. I thought maybe when you fought for Bex, you were finally getting a backbone, but I was wrong.”

His mouth tightens. “Don’t say shit you don’t mean.”

I reach for the door Dad and Uncle Blake went through and yank it open. We’re in some sort of dressing room; judging by the vanity in the corner, this is where a bride might get ready before she walks down the aisle. My uncle has his hands up, in the middle of a sentence. The moment he sees me, though, he stops.

“Cooper,” he says. “Go back to the party. We’ve got this handled.”

“Don’t listen to him,” I say, glaring at Dad. “Whatever he’s saying, know I don’t believe it.”

Dad has a piece of paper in his hand. He thrusts it at me. “Fine. If you won’t believe me, look at the proof.”

It’s a flight confirmation. JFK to LAX. Passenger name Blake Callahan. I stare down at it, then crumple it up and toss it aside. “What’s it supposed to be proof of? So he’s going back to California, whatever.”

“He’s not sober. He’s not clean. That was a gin tonic in his fucking hand, and I’m sure he has coke on him somewhere.” My dad’s voice is like solid ice. “He’s been using you this whole time, son. You want to know the reason I keep my own fucking brother at a distance? It’s not because I hate him for being an addict. It’s because he nearly killed you!”

The door clicks shut as Dad’s words echo in the air.

Penny stands with her hands on her hips, a stricken but determined look on her face. “Cooper,” she says. “Your mom just told me he—when you were seven—you got into a car accident.”

“I told you that. It’s how I got the scar by my ear.” I look over my shoulder at my uncle, who drags his teeth across his lower lip. “Someone hit our car on the way to practice.”

“He was drunk and high.” She tries and fails to hold back a sob. “You got a concussion and broke your arm.”

“I remember. But he wasn’t—it wasn’t—” I look at my uncle again. He meets my gaze, but there’s sadness in his eyes. My stomach clenches tightly. “It was just an accident.”

“Instead of pressing charges, I paid for his rehab,” Dad says. “Only he took the money and ran off to California.” He turns on my uncle once more. “You could have killed my fucking son, and instead of putting you in prison, where you belonged—”

“Stop,” I interrupt. He tries to keep going, so I shout the word instead. “Just—stop! Fucking stop.” I walk to my uncle. I’m trembling so hard I can practically feel my teeth chatter. “I don’t care about the past.”

“It’s not the past,” Dad says. “He manipulated us then, and he tried again when you were a teenager, but I kept him away. I tried to this time, but he knew what buttons to press, son. He knew how to turn you against me. Against the family.”

“He’s our fucking family!”

Dad shakes his head. “How much did you give him, Cooper?”

“I don’t—”

“How much, dammnit?”

I bite back a curse. “Just—what he asked for. Right, Uncle Blake? For the rehab?”

Dad laughs shortly. “Of course. The rehab card. The money is for debts, Cooper. Gambling debt. Debt to his dealers. He doesn’t give a fuck about anything but getting what he needs.”

“Stop lying!”

“It’s not a lie,” says James. “He came to me first, last fall. He tried to get me to give him money. I guess when I refused, he moved on to you.”

“He knew you’d gain access to your trust fund this year,” says Dad. He doesn’t even sound angry anymore. Just exhausted. “And now that he has the money, he’s not coming back, not until he needs more.”

I shake my head. “No. He wouldn’t do that to me. Right, Uncle Blake?” He looks at me, but doesn’t say anything. I swallow; there’s a lump in my throat the size of a hockey puck. “You have the apartment, and the job—we’re going to a Rangers game soon—even if you’re off the wagon again, we can get you back on it. I’ll help.”

He rubs his hand over his jaw. “I’m sorry, kid.”

I don’t want it to be true. I’m desperate for everyone to be lying—everyone but him. Yet I see it in his eyes. He has what he wants, and he’s not coming back.

I laugh. It sounds tinny. A recording of laughter instead of an actual sound I just made. My hands are clammy, and when I try to clench and unclench my fists, I can’t quite manage the whole motion. The edges of this shitty little room look blurred. I take a step back and nearly stumble over a chair. There’s another door, not the one that goes into the ballroom, but somewhere else. I need to get to it. I need air before I stop fucking breathing.

I’m the biggest idiot in the world. Never Dad’s first choice. My uncle’s second choice of which nephew to swindle, apparently. Couldn’t even be first at that. Now that Penny has heard the whole goddamn mess, she’s going to run screaming in the other direction. I convinced myself that she loved me but just didn’t know how to say it yet, but the truth is, it was only a matter of time before she left.

After this? I don’t want her to be with me either. I’m a fool, and she can do better.

I pull open the door and run into the hallway. Someone calls after me, but I’m not sure who, and right now, I don’t care. My shoes squeak on the expensive floor as I run down the hallway, right into the fancy, delicately decorated lobby. I shove the door open before the doorman can get it for me and skid out onto the sidewalk. I start shivering immediately, but it feels good. Let me feel something other than pain, even if it’s nearly as unpleasant.

We’re right near Central Park. I run to the nearest entrance and hurry down one of the many paths. I’m not all that familiar with this park, but there’s an outdoor rink around here somewhere that should still be in season. We went last year, all of us, even Dad, who doesn’t like skating.

I know I’m in the middle of one of the biggest cities in the world, but if I can just see a rink—a sliver of someone else’s happiness, set under the stars and a late winter moon—then maybe the world will stop spinning.