Page 35 of The Dating Coach (Hearts on Ice #4)

"Motion to dismiss granted. This case is closed."

The judge's words echoed through the courtroom, final and absolute.

My parents sat at their table, faces twisted with fury as their lawyer shuffled papers with obvious embarrassment.

Months of legal threats, harassment, and attempted control had just crumbled under the weight of their own frivolity.

Liam's hand found mine under the defendant's table, squeezing gently. He'd been beside me through every deposition, every meeting, every moment when their vitriol threatened to break me down.

"We're done here," our lawyer said quietly, gathering his files with satisfaction. "They have no more moves to make."

My parents stood to leave, but not without one last show. My father's voice carried across the courtroom: "You've corrupted everything pure in our family. Both of you. Abominations."

"Your definition of pure was always poison," I said, standing as well. My voice came out steady, stronger than I felt. "We're happy. Mia's thriving. I'm in medical school. All without your conditional love."

"You're going to hell," my mother spat. "Both of you. Living in sin, promoting perversion—"

"Actually, we're going to Montreal," Liam interrupted calmly.

"Gemma got into McGill University's medical program, I'll be playing hockey while studying architecture at McGill, and Mia's joining Pinewood this year.

We're building a life filled with love and acceptance. Your hell holds no power over us."

The simple recitation of our plans – delivered without anger or defensiveness – seemed to deflate them. They left with more muttered condemnations, but the words felt empty. They'd lost their power to wound.

Outside the courthouse, Mia waited on the steps with Karen and our aunt and uncle. The moment she saw my face, she launched herself at us.

"It's over?" she asked breathlessly. "Really over?"

"Really over," I confirmed, hugging her tightly. "They can't touch us anymore. Any of us."

"Good," Aunt Penelope said firmly. "Now we can focus on the future instead of fighting the past."

That evening, we celebrated at the hockey house one last time before Liam and I pack up for Montreal—where we’ll both begin our studies at McGill University.

It felt surreal that just a few months ago, Liam, Karen, Frank, Henry, and I had all graduated together from Pinewood University, and now we were about to scatter.

Frank had outdone himself with a farewell feast, Henry’s speeches had us all in tears, and the family we’d built wrapped us in a love our biological parents never could have provided.

"I'm going to miss this," I admitted to Liam as we stood on the back deck, watching our friends through the window. "Not the drama or the crisis management, but this. Them."

"Montreal's not that far," he reminded me, arms wrapping around me from behind. "And Frank's already planning road trips. Karen and Henry are looking at graduate programs there. Mia will visit constantly. We're not losing them, just expanding the geography."

"When did you become the optimistic one?" I teased, leaning back into his warmth.

"When you stopped assuming everything would end in disaster," he replied. "We balance each other."

"We do," I agreed, turning in his arms. "Thank you. For standing by me through the lawsuit. For not letting me push you away again. For choosing us even when I made it hard."

"Always," he said simply. "Though maybe no more major relationship decisions based on fear?"

"I'm in therapy," I reminded him. "Working on it. Dr. Maya says my martyr complex is improving."

"Good. I prefer you happy and selfish over miserable and noble."

"I'm not selfish," I protested.

"You accepted my help with lawyer fees," he pointed out. "Three weeks ago, you would have insisted on handling it alone."

He was right. Learning to share burdens instead of carrying them alone had been harder than any chemistry exam. But Liam had been patient, gentle, insistent that partnership meant facing challenges together.

"Speaking of acceptance," I said, pulling out an envelope. "This came today."

He read the McGill letterhead, face lighting up. "The research position?"

"Oncology lab. Part-time during school, full-time summers. Exactly what I wanted." I couldn't contain my grin. "They were impressed by my personal statement about finding better treatments so other kids don't lose their grandmothers too soon."

"Gemma, this is incredible!" He spun me around, laughing. "You're going to change lives. Save families. Everything you dreamed of."

"We both are," I reminded him. "Your architecture professor at McGill said your affordable housing project was graduate-level work. Montreal's lucky to get you."

"Montreal's lucky to get us," he corrected, setting me down but keeping me close. "The power couple of medical research and sustainable architecture."

"With occasional hockey on the side?"

"Got to pay the bills somehow," he grinned. "At least until my buildings start winning awards and your research cures cancer."

"No pressure," I laughed.

"None at all. We've got time." He kissed me softly. "All the time we need."

The move to Montreal happened in stages. First, finding an apartment that could accommodate my study needs and Liam's drafting table. Then, the endless packing, deciding what to keep and what to leave behind.

“Do you really need four different Anatomy textbooks?” Liam asked, eyeing my textbook collection.

"Do you need seventeen different types of drafting pencils?" I countered.

"Yes," we said in unison, then laughed.

Mia helped pack, her excitement about visiting us in the future was contagious.

"I've already researched the best cafes for studying. And there's this LGBTQ+ center near your campus that does youth mentoring. I could volunteer when I visit!"

"Already planning to move there?" Karen teased. "What about Pinewood?"

"I've still got three more years," Mia said. "But after that... McGill has an amazing psychology program, and everyone I care about will be there.”

"No pressure," Liam said, but he was smiling. "Though I've already started scouting apartments near ours. Just in case."

"Enabler," I accused.

"Proud of it," he agreed.

The night before our permanent move to Montreal, everyone gathered at the hockey house for one last dinner together.

"I can't believe you're actually leaving," Karen said, her voice catching as she helped clear the dishes. "It won't be the same without you two."

"Hey, no getting emotional yet," Henry protested, though his own eyes looked suspiciously bright. "We haven't even had dessert."

Frank emerged from the kitchen carrying a homemade cake decorated with "Good Luck in Montreal!" in slightly wobbly frosting. "Mia insisted on helping," he explained with a grin.

"It's beautiful," I said, genuinely touched. Mia beamed beside him.

"I already miss you and you haven't even left yet," my sister said, throwing her arms around me. "But I'm so proud of you for doing this."

"Three years will go by fast," I promised, hugging her tight. "And we'll visit all the time. Christmas, spring break, random weekends when we get homesick."

"Which will be often," Liam added, accepting a group hug from Karen and Henry. "You're stuck with us, whether you like it or not."

"Good," Frank said firmly. "Because this house isn't going to feel right without Gemma’s movie choices and your midnight study sessions."

"I vote we make a pact," Karen announced. "Mandatory visits at least once a semester. Both ways."

"Deal," we said in unison.

As the evening wound down, we found ourselves on the back deck, reluctant to let the night end. Tomorrow everything would change, but tonight we were still all together, still family in every way that mattered.

"Ready for the adventure?" Liam asked.

"With all of them supporting us?" I smiled, looking around at these people who'd become my chosen family. "Always."

Mia's school graduation came two months after our move to Montreal, perfectly timed between Liam's hockey season and my exam period. We drove back to Pinewood, car loaded with Montreal treats and apartment photos to share.

The gymnasium was packed with proud families, and we were no exception. Karen had made signs. Frank and Henry wore matching "Mia's Brothers" t-shirts they'd designed. Aunt Penelope and Uncle Mark flew in from Philadelphia.

"Look at our family," Liam murmured, gesturing to our chaotic, beautiful group. "Blood couldn't make us closer."

He was right. Watching Mia walk across that stage, seeing her joy at having us all there cheering, felt like victory over everyone who'd tried to make her small.

She'd survived our parents' rejection, conversion therapy threats, and homelessness.

Now she was heading to college with a full scholarship and more love than she knew what to do with.

"I'm so proud of you," I whispered when Mia found us after, clutching her diploma.

"We survived," she whispered back. "Both of us. Despite everything."

"Because of everything," I corrected. "It made us who we are. Led us to the people who actually matter."

That night, at the hockey house that had sheltered us through so much, I watched our chosen family celebrate.

Henry was teaching Mia's girlfriend Sophia to play poker.

Frank was in the kitchen creating chaos.

Karen held court with stories of her university journalism program.

Aunt Penelope and Uncle Mark looked on with the satisfaction of people who'd helped raise survivors.

And Liam was beside me, always beside me, hand in mine as we watched the life we'd built.

Behind us, our family's laughter echoed through the house. Ahead of us, Montreal waited with new dreams to chase.