Page 27 of The Dating Coach (Hearts on Ice #4)

I saw them before they saw me.

My parents stood in the middle of campus quad like avenging angels, my mother clutching a manila folder while my father scanned the lunch crowd with eyes I knew too well. They looked older, grayer, but their righteousness remained untarnished by time or distance.

My phone was already in my hand, texting Mia: Stay in the room. They're here.

Her response was immediate: Coming anyway. I’m not hiding anymore.

Before I could protest, they spotted me. My mother's face crumpled into what might have been genuine emotion if I hadn't seen her practice tears in the mirror before church socials. My father's expression remained stone, disappointment carved into every line.

"Gemma." He said my name like a sentence already passed. "We need to discuss about your sister."

"Mia is fine," I said, proud when my voice didn't shake. "And this is neither the time nor place for this conversation."

"You've left us no choice," my mother interjected, tears streaming. "You won't return calls, you've hidden her from us. Our baby—"

"Your baby is eighteen," I interrupted. "An adult who made the choice to leave rather than submit to conversion therapy."

The words rang across the quad. Several passing students slowed, sensing drama. I wanted to shrink away, to have this confrontation in private, but my parents had chosen their stage deliberately. Public shame had always been their favorite weapon.

"We never said conversion therapy," my father lied smoothly. "We suggested counseling. Support for her confusion."

"Restoration House isn't counseling," I shot back. "It's torture dressed up in scripture. And she's not confused – she's gay. The only confusion is why you can't love your daughter as she is."

My mother gasped as if I'd slapped her. "How can you say that? We love Mia. We want to help her."

"You want to fix her," I corrected. "Force her into a box that makes you comfortable. That's not love – that's control."

"You've poisoned her mind," my father's voice rose, drawing more attention. "Encouraged her delusions. Leading her into sin and degradation."

"The only poison here is your conditional love," I said, anger overtaking fear. "She's happy. She's thriving. She has people who love her exactly as she is."

"Living in sin with God knows who—"

"Living with me," I interrupted. "Her sister who actually gives a damn about her happiness."

"Watch your language," he snapped. "We're still your parents. You will show respect."

"Respect is earned," a new voice said.

I turned to find Mia standing behind me, chin raised despite the tremor in her hands. She looked so young but so fierce, my baby sister who'd found her courage.

"Mia!" My mother started forward, but Mia stepped back.

"Don't," Mia said quietly. "You don't get to cry and act like you missed me when you're the ones who drove me away."

"We never—" my father started.

"You gave me an ultimatum," Mia cut him off. "Conversion therapy or homelessness. I chose homelessness. That's on you, not on me or Gemma."

"You're confused," my mother pleaded. "This lifestyle, these people, they've convinced you—"

"No one convinced me of anything," Mia said firmly. "I've known who I am since I was fifteen. The only thing that's changed is that I'm not ashamed anymore."

"You should be ashamed!" The words exploded from my father with volcanic fury. "Look at you now – corrupting your sister, living in sin, throwing away your future for liberal nonsense," he spat.

"My future?" I stepped closer, fury overriding caution. "I'm in medical school. I have a 3.9 GPA. I'm captain of a Division I athletic team. The only thing I've thrown away is the need for your approval."

"None of that matters if your soul is damned—"

"You hate who we really are," I cut in. “And I’m done hiding, and apologizing, and shrinking myself for your comfort.”

I took a breath, decision made. The crowd around us had grown, students filming with phones, witnessing what came next.

"I'm bisexual," I announced, loud enough for everyone to hear. "I've known since high school. I hid it because I knew you'd react exactly like this – with disgust masquerading as concern."

Mia’s eyes went wide—she hadn’t known. After a moment of stunned silence, she stepped forward and clasped my hand.

My mother’s sob was raw and genuine this time. My father’s face drained from purple to white.

"Both of you?" he whispered. "Both of our daughters?"

"Your daughters who are happy," Mia said, stepping forward. "Who've found love and acceptance and chosen family. Who are becoming amazing people despite your best efforts to break us."

"This is your doing," my father pointed at me, spittle flying. "You corrupted her. Normalized perversion."

He raised his hand – not quite a threat, but the muscle memory of discipline. Before I could react, a wall of bodies materialized between us.

Liam stood at the center, flanked by what seemed like half the hockey team. Behind them, members of the swim team formed a second line. The message was clear: to get to us, they'd have to go through an army.

"I think you should leave," Liam said calmly. "Campus security is already on the way."

"This is a family matter," my father blustered, but his raised hand dropped.

"No," Liam said simply. "Family doesn't threaten. Family protects. And these women have all the family they need."

"You," my mother pointed at Liam with shaking fingers. "You're part of this corruption. Leading Gemma astray—"

"The only place I'm leading her," Liam said evenly, "is toward happiness. Something you apparently never managed."

Campus security arrived then, drawn by the crowd and raised voices. My parents tried to argue, to claim parental rights, but the officers were firm – Mia was eighteen, this was harassment, and they needed to leave or face trespassing charges.

"This isn't over," my father promised as security escorted them away. "We have lawyers. Rights. We'll—"

"You'll lose," I called after them. "Because we have something you don't – truth. And love that doesn't require editing ourselves to be palatable."

They left in a cloud of threats and condemnation, but I barely heard them. The crowd around us erupted in support – applause and pride flags pulled from backpacks and promises of solidarity.

But I only had eyes for Mia, who was crying in earnest now.

"I'm sorry," I whispered, pulling her close. "I'm so sorry you had to see that."

"I'm proud," she said through her tears. "You came out for me. You stood up to them."

"We stood up to them," I corrected. "Together."

Liam's arms came around both of us, creating a shelter from the chaos. "That was the bravest thing I've ever seen," he murmured.

"That was the scariest thing I've ever done," I admitted, adrenaline crash making me shaky.

"But you did it anyway," he said. "That's what courage is."

We stood there in the middle of campus, surrounded by chosen family and unexpected allies, while the video of my coming out spread across social media.

My phone exploded with messages – support from teammates, shock from high school acquaintances, pride from friends who'd suspected but never pushed.

"No taking it back now," I said, attempting levity. "I'm officially, publicly, irrevocably queer."

"Welcome to the club," Mia said wetly. "We have good music and better fashion."

"And family who loves you exactly as you are," Liam added, pressing a kiss to my temple.

That night, in the safety of the hockey house, surrounded by people who'd literally stood between us and harm, I let myself mourn. Not for the parents we'd lost – they'd been gone long before today. But for the parents we'd deserved, the unconditional love we'd never had.

"Do you regret it?" Liam asked softly, holding me as I cried. "Coming out like that?"

"No," I said immediately. "I regret waiting so long. Regret the years I spent hating parts of myself. But not this. Never this." I pulled back to look at him. "I'm sorry I never told you. About being bisexual. I should have trusted you with that."

"Hey," he said gently, wiping a tear from my cheek. "You don't owe anyone your story until you're ready to tell it. Not even me."

"Really?"

"Really. And I'm so fucking proud of you I could burst."

"Language," I teased weakly.

"Fuck language," he said firmly. "You just came out to your homophobic parents in front of half the campus to protect your sister. I'm allowed to swear in celebration."

I managed a faint smile, the weight of it all still settling over me.

"What happens now?" I asked. "They won't just give up."

"Now we live," he said simply. "Openly and honestly, surrounded by people who actually love us. Let them waste money on lawyers. We'll be too busy being happy to care."

It sounded impossibly optimistic. It sounded like everything I wanted. It sounded like freedom.