Page 5 of The Dating Coach (Hearts on Ice #4)

I knew something was catastrophically wrong the second I saw Mia huddled on my doorstep.

My baby sister sat with her knees drawn to her chest, a battered duffel bag at her feet, her face streaked with tears that had carved tracks through her makeup.

The porch light cast harsh shadows across her features, making her look younger than her seventeen years and utterly broken.

“Mia?” I dropped my bag, my exhaustion from swim practice evaporating as I rushed to her. “Honey, what happened?”

She looked up at me with eyes so full of pain it physically hurt to see. "They know," she whispered, her voice raw from crying. "They found my journal. They know everything."

My blood turned to ice. I fumbled for my keys, hands shaking as I unlocked the door. "Come inside. It's okay, you're safe now."

But we both knew that was a lie. Nothing about this was okay, and safe was a concept that had just exploded in our faces.

Karen appeared in the hallway as we stumbled inside, taking one look at Mia's devastated face before switching into crisis mode. "Oh, honey. Come here. Hot chocolate or something stronger?"

"I'm seventeen," Mia said automatically, then let out a broken laugh. "Though after today, I think I've aged about ten years."

"Hot chocolate with extra marshmallows it is," Karen decided, guiding Mia to the couch while shooting me a look that promised we'd talk later. "And maybe some of those cookies I definitely didn't steal from the dining hall."

I sat beside Mia, pulling her against me as she started crying again. Her whole body shook with the force of her sobs, and I held her tighter, wishing I could shield her from a world that saw her existence as something to be fixed or condemned.

"Tell me what happened," I said when her tears finally slowed to hiccups.

"I was stupid," she said, voice muffled against my shoulder.

"I left my journal on my desk when I went to school.

Mom was cleaning and..." She pulled back, eyes red and swollen.

"She read everything. About Sophia. About how I feel when she smiles at me.

About the kiss at Pam's sleepover last month. "

My heart broke for her. I remembered being seventeen and confused about my own attraction to both guys and girls, but I'd been better at hiding it. I'd learned early that our parents' love came with conditions, that their God apparently had very specific requirements for worthiness.

"What did they say?" I asked, though I could guess.

"Dad quoted Leviticus and Romans. Mom cried and asked where she went wrong as a mother.

" Mia's voice went flat, reciting trauma like a grocery list. "They called Pastor Williams. He wants to send me to this place – Restoration House.

It's a conversion therapy camp disguised as a 'troubled teen ministry. '"

"Fuck," I breathed, then caught myself. "Sorry."

"You think I haven't been saying worse?" Mia attempted a smile that didn't reach her eyes. "When I refused to go, Dad said I had two choices: attend the camp or leave his house. So, I left."

Karen returned with hot chocolate and a plate of definitely-stolen cookies, her face carefully neutral as she processed what she'd overheard. "Your parents are assholes," she announced, handing Mia the mug. "No offense."

"None taken," Mia said. "I've been calling them worse in my head all day."

"You can stay here," I said immediately, even as my mind raced through the implications. "We'll figure it out."

"Gemma, I can't ask you to—"

"You're not asking. I'm telling." I used my stern big-sister voice, the one that had gotten her through scraped knees and middle school bullies. "You're staying here where you're safe and loved, and that's final."

"But I'm still a minor," Mia protested. "If they report me as a runaway—"

"Then we'll deal with it," Karen interrupted. "My cousin's a lawyer. Well, almost a lawyer. She's in her last year of law school. But she knows people who know people."

The three of us sat in silence for a moment, the weight of the situation settling over us like a heavy blanket.

"I brought some clothes," Mia said, gesturing to her duffel bag. "And my laptop. They took my phone – said I was using it to 'engage in sinful communications.'"

"We'll get you a new one," I promised, already calculating how much I had in savings. "A prepaid one they can't track."

"I have some money saved from my summer job," Mia offered. "It's not much, but—"

"Keep it," I said firmly. "You might need it."

She swallowed hard. “I’m scared. What if they’re right? What if there’s something wrong with me?”

"Hey." I took her face in my hands, making her meet my eyes. "There is nothing wrong with you. You are perfect exactly as you are. Love is not a sin, no matter what they say."

"You sound so sure," she whispered.

I thought about my own carefully hidden truth, the part of myself I'd buried so deep even I sometimes forgot it existed.

The girl in my freshman year I'd kissed at a party and then avoided for the rest of the semester.

The way I noticed women as much as men, a fact I'd never admitted out loud to anyone.

"I am sure," I said instead. "Because I know you. You're kind and brilliant and funny. You volunteer at the animal shelter and cry at romance movies and make the best chocolate chip cookies in existence. Being gay doesn't change any of that."

Mia hugged me again, and I felt her tears soak through my shirt. "I love you, Gem."

"Love you too, butterfly."

Karen, who had been suspiciously quiet, cleared her throat. "Okay, game plan. Mia, you're taking my room tonight – it's bigger and has the comfier bed. I'll crash with Gemma. Tomorrow we'll figure out longer-term arrangements."

"I can't kick you out of your room—"

"You're not kicking, I'm volunteering," Karen said firmly. "Besides, Gemma sleep-talks about molecular structures when she's stressed. It'll be educational."

That startled a small laugh out of Mia, the first genuine one I'd heard from her all evening.

We spent the next hour getting her settled, Karen distracting her with ridiculous stories from her high school ("I announced that the cafeteria was serving free pizza in the teacher's lounge during the morning announcements.

Three hundred kids showed up. The principal nearly had a stroke.

") while I tried to process the magnitude of what we were facing.

Later, after Mia had finally fallen asleep in Karen's bed, exhausted from emotional trauma, Karen and I sat at our kitchen table with mugs of wine she'd produced from her "emergency stash."

"This is big, Gem," she said quietly. "Like, potentially life-ruining big if your parents go nuclear."

"I know." I stared into my wine, seeing my future fracture into uncertain pieces. "But what else can I do? She's my sister."

"I'm not saying you shouldn't help her. I'm saying we need to be smart about it.

" Karen pulled out her phone. "I'm texting my almost-lawyer cousin.

And maybe we should document everything – save any texts or voicemails from your parents.

Build a case for why Mia shouldn't be forced into conversion therapy. "

"You'd do that?" I asked, touched by her immediate support.

"I've been looking for an excuse to fight the patriarchy and religious extremism. This is like Christmas came early." She paused. "Too soon for jokes?"

"Never," I said, managing a smile. "I don't know what I'd do without you."

"Probably have a cleaner kitchen and fewer scorch marks on the ceiling," she said. "But definitely less fun."

My phone buzzed – reminder about my tutoring session with Liam. I groaned, suddenly remembering I had to face Liam Delacroix and his stupidly attractive face while my life imploded around me.

"What?" Karen asked.

"I have a tutoring session this Friday. For organic chemistry. With Liam Delacroix."

Karen's eyes went wide. "Hockey hottie Liam? The one with the shoulders that could make angels weep?"

"That's not how I'd describe him," I lied.

"If you say so." She grinned despite everything. "Well, at least you'll have something pretty to look at while learning about molecular bonds."

"This is serious, Karen. I need to pass this makeup exam, and now with Mia here—"

"You'll figure it out," she said firmly. "You always do. And hey, maybe Hockey Hottie will surprise you. I heard he's actually smart under all those muscles."

I was certain there was nothing about Liam Delacroix that could surprise me. Tomorrow I’d have to juggle hiding my runaway sister, and keeping up with swim practice—just another day in the disaster my life had become.

As I checked on Mia one more time before bed, seeing her face finally peaceful in sleep, I knew I'd juggle whatever I had to. She was family, and family protected each other.