Page 131 of The Heart Breaker

He keeps looking at me, like he knows that answer’s bullshit. “Something wrong?”

I open my mouth to tell him ‘no’, and keep walking, because this isn’t his business, but I’m so tired. So tired of having to have everything on my shoulders and acting like I have a clue what I’m doing.

“My, uh…” Fuck, why is this so hard? “My little sister’s staying with me,” I tell him. “She ran away from home.”

Coach’s brows lift slightly. “How old is she?”

“Sixteen.”

He nods, then drags a hand over his jaw before letting out a slow breath. “I don’t usually talk about this, but when I was younger, my stepdad used to hit me.”

My brows shoot up.

“He had a problem with everything. Didn’t matter what I did.” His mouth tightens, his gaze drifting somewhere past my shoulder for a second. “Sometimes it was because I said the wrong thing. Sometimes it was because I looked at him wrong. Sometimes it was nothing at all.” He drags a hand over his jaw. “My high school coach used to keep me after practice,” hecontinues. “Had me skating until my legs gave out. I used to think he was just an asshole who liked making my life harder.” He lets out a laugh, shaking his head. “Turns out he knew exactly why I hated going home.”

I don’t say anything.

Can’t, really.

He crosses his arms and looks at me. “I made myself a promise a long time ago that if I ever saw the signs in a kid standing in front of me, I wouldn’t ignore it.”

I already know what’s coming.

Doesn’t mean I want to hear it.

“I see the signs, Ellis.”

My jaw tightens. “I’m fine,” I say automatically. “He can’t hurt me anymore.”

Coach’s eyes narrow a little. “But he hurt your sister,” he guesses.

I swallow, my throat going tight. I want to tell him to mind his own business. Want to tell him I’ve got it handled. But nothing comes out.

Not with the way he’s looking at me. Not after what he just told me.

Coach lets out a slow breath. “I know I’m just some grumpy old bastard to most of you,” he says, the corner of his mouth lifting just slightly, “but if you or your sister need anything—anything at all—I want you to know that you can come to me.”

I keep my mouth shut because I don’t know what the hell to say to that.

“My wife knows people in the system,” he continues. “I’ve got friends who foster. I’m not saying I have all the answers, but I’m not going to let another kid slip through the cracks if I can help it.”

Something pulls tight in the middle of my chest. I shove both hands into my hoodie pocket. “I don’t want charity.”

Coach shakes his head. “It’s not charity. Everybody needs help sometimes. Doesn’t make you weak, Ellis. It just makes you human.”

Part of me wants to believe him, because I’ve spent so long thinking that needing anybody is a liability, and I just want to cling to the little thread of hope that maybe all this shit doesn’t have to sit on my shoulders.

Coach pushes off the wall and puts a hand on my shoulder. “You’re a hell of a player,” he says. “And from what I can tell, a hell of a brother too.”

My throat tightens again.

“Don’t let pride get in the way of getting her what she needs.”

My phone buzzes in my pocket before I can say anything. I pull it out and see Sophie’s name on the screen.

Sophie:

Are you almost home? There’s nothing to eat here.