Page 7 of The Dating Coach (Hearts on Ice #4)

"This is temporary," I muttered, as much to myself as to Mia, who stood beside me clutching her duffel bag like a lifeline.

"I know," she said quietly. "I'm sorry, Gem. This is all my fault."

"Hey." I turned to face her, using my stern big-sister voice. "None of this is your fault. Not one single part. Understood?"

She nodded, but I could see the guilt eating at her.

Before I could say more, the door swung open, revealing Liam in gray sweatpants and a Pinewood Hockey t-shirt that had seen better days.

His hair was messy, like he'd been running his hands through it, and there was a pencil tucked behind one ear.

"Gemma," he said, surprise flickering across his features before warmth took over. "And Mia. Hey."

"Is your offer still open?" I asked without preamble. "About space for Mia? It's just for a few days, until Karen’s boyfriend, Kyle, leaves and—"

"Of course," he interrupted, stepping aside immediately. "Come in, both of you. It's freezing out there."

We entered the house I'd only seen from the outside at parties I'd never attended. The interior was exactly what I'd expected from a hockey house – oversized leather furniture, a massive TV, sports equipment scattered in corners – but cleaner than anticipated.

"Henry! Frank!" Liam called toward the stairs. "Come meet Gemma's sister! She'll be staying with us for a while."

"Are they trustworthy?" I whispered, surprised.

“Absolutely,” he said quietly.

Two guys appeared, one tall and lanky with disheveled brown hair, the other shorter and built like a truck. They took in Mia with her obvious family resemblance to me, her nervous posture, and her duffel bag, and something passed between them.

Liam stepped forward slightly. "Look, I need you guys to keep this quiet, okay? Mia's staying here for a while, but we need discretion about it."

"Done," the taller one said immediately, no hesitation in his voice.

"Not a word from us," the shorter one agreed with a firm nod.

The silent understanding that passed between them made my chest tight with unexpected gratitude. Then the taller one's expression shifted to something warmer.

"Hey, sis!" he said easily. "I'm Henry, that's Frank. You hungry? Frank just made enough pasta to feed an army."

"I'm stress-cooking," Frank explained. "We have a game against BC tomorrow. But this works out great – now I don't have to eat carbs for six people by myself."

"I could eat," Mia admitted, and I watched some tension leave her shoulders as Frank immediately started describing the three different sauces he'd made.

While they headed to the kitchen, Liam touched my elbow gently. "Want to see where she'll be staying?"

I nodded, following him upstairs. The house was bigger than I'd realized, with multiple bedrooms along a long hallway. He led me to a room at the end, opening the door to reveal a space that was clearly used for storage but had been hastily cleared.

"I know it's not much," he started apologetically. "But there's a bed, and the window locks, and—"

"It's perfect," I interrupted, overwhelmed by the evidence of preparation. There were fresh sheets on the bed, a small lamp on the nightstand, even a phone charger coiled neatly beside it. "You did all this?"

"After Sunday night, I figured..." He rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly shy. "I wanted to be ready in case you needed it."

The thoughtfulness undid something in me. I sank onto the bed, the stress of the past few days catching up all at once. "I don't know how to do this," I admitted. "How to protect her and maintain my grades and keep swimming and pretend everything's fine when it's all falling apart."

Liam sat beside me, careful to leave space between us. "You don't have to do it alone."

"I've always done everything alone," I said, then caught myself. "That came out wrong. I have Karen, and she's amazing, but..."

"But you're used to being the one who helps, not the one who needs help."

I looked at him, surprised by the understanding in his voice. "Yeah. Exactly."

"I get it," he said simply. "Being the responsible one, the one everyone depends on. It's exhausting."

“You?” I asked, surprise coloring my voice. “The hockey star with the perfect life?”

His laugh was humorless. "Perfect. Right.

You want to know what perfect looks like?

It's spending every summer since I was six at hockey camps instead of family vacations.

It's choosing a major based on what fits around practice schedules instead of what I actually want to study.

It's being groomed for the NHL since before I could spell it and being too much of a coward to admit I'd rather design buildings than play professional hockey. "

The bitterness in his voice shocked me.

"Buildings?" I prompted softly.

"I like architecture and urban planning. Haven't told anyone except Henry and Frank."

"Why not?"

"Because Liam Delacroix, son of Victor Delacroix, hockey legend and current minority owner of the Boston Bruins, doesn't throw away his NHL prospects to play with blueprints.

" He stood abruptly, pacing to the window.

"Sorry. You've got enough problems without listening to my poor-little-rich-boy complaints. "

"Hey." I stood too, moving closer without really thinking about it. "Pain isn't a competition. Your struggles don't diminish mine or vice versa."

He turned to look at me, something vulnerable in his expression. "When did you get so wise?"

"Sometime between failing organic chemistry and becoming guardian to a teenage runaway," I said, attempting levity.

"About that." His expression shifted, becoming businesslike. "We need to talk about Mia's schooling situation. She can't go back to her old school, not with everything that's happened."

"I've been thinking about that too," I admitted. "She's going to need somewhere with good swimming facilities. She swims competitively, like I do. It's important to her."

"Swimming facilities," he repeated, as if filing it away mentally. "Okay. We'll find something that works."

"But the applications, the transcripts, getting her enrolled mid-semester..." The logistics felt overwhelming.

"One crisis at a time," he said firmly. "First, we get through your makeup exam. When is it again?"

"Five and a half weeks." The number felt both endless and terrifyingly close.

"Okay. We should start with your organic chemistry tutoring sessions soon.

Mia can hang here whenever she wants – the guys will love having someone new to destroy at video games.

And maybe..." He hesitated. "Maybe we can look into legal options?

There might be ways to protect her without your parents being able to force her into conversion therapy. "

"We?" I echoed.

"If you want," he said quickly. "I mean, I'm not trying to overstep—"

"No," I interrupted. "We is... we works. We sounds good."

“But Liam,” I continued, “you’ve already done so much for me. I can’t shake the feeling that I owe you—and I hate feeling indebted.”

He ran a hand through his hair and offered a half-smile. “Well, if you don’t want to feel indebted, maybe you could return the favor.”

I arched an eyebrow. “Oh? And what favor might that be?”

“I want you to teach me how to pursue someone I’m interested in.

” His cheeks colored slightly, which was endearing enough to make my heart skip.

“I know it sounds ridiculous, but I’ve never had to work for anyone’s attention before.

I’ve spent years being passive, letting women approach me instead of going after what I want.

Now I’m starting to realize that passivity isn’t going to work anymore.

There’s this girl, Hailey, and I lost her because I was too passive—and now she’s engaged to my friend, Gabe. ”

The irony was almost laughable: the campus golden boy womanizer needed dating lessons from me.

"You want me to teach you how to hit on women?" I asked, making sure I understood correctly.

"I want you to teach me how to show genuine interest, how to pursue someone without being pushy or entitled, how to prove that my intentions are worth trusting." He met my eyes directly. "I want to learn how to be more than just a pretty face who waits for things to happen to him."

There was something vulnerable in his admission, something that suggested this was about more than just romantic success. This was about agency, about becoming an active participant in his own life instead of a passive recipient of other people's choices.

"So, we both get what we need," I said slowly. "You help me pass organic chemistry and keep Mia safe. I help you learn how to actually pursue someone."

"Mutual benefit," he agreed. "A business arrangement between two people who desperately need what the other can offer."

I studied his face, looking for signs of deception or hidden agendas. But all I saw was sincerity, determination, and maybe a hint of the same desperation I was feeling.

"Okay then," I said, extending my hand. "Business partners."

His palm was warm and slightly callused from hockey, and the touch sent an unexpected jolt through me. For a moment, we stood there, hands clasped, an electric charge crackling between us—nothing to do with business arrangements or mutual benefit.

Then I pulled my hand back and reminded myself that this was about survival, not sparks. About protecting Mia and saving my academic future, not about the way Liam's eyes seemed to see more than they should.

"We should check on Mia," I said, stepping back.

"Right. Yes. Mia." He seemed to shake himself. "Fair warning – if Frank's adopted her, she's about to be fed enough carbs to fuel a marathon."

Walking back downstairs, I tried to process the shift in my perception of Liam Delacroix. The cocky hockey star facade was just that – a facade covering someone far more complex and conflicted than I'd imagined. It was dangerously appealing, this glimpse behind his perfect mask.

In the kitchen, we found Mia at the center of attention, laughing at something Frank had said while twirling an impressive amount of pasta on her fork. Henry was teaching her some complicated handshake, and for the first time in days, my sister looked like a teenager instead of a refugee.

"Gem!" she called when she saw us. "Frank's been telling me about the time he accidentally dyed the entire team's jerseys pink!"

"It was for breast cancer awareness," Frank protested. "Eventually. After we figured out how to spin it."

I caught Liam watching me as I smiled at my sister's joy. When our eyes met, something passed between us – an acknowledgment of the trust I'd placed in him, a promise that it wasn't misplaced.

"So," Mia said, looking between us with interest. "How do you two know each other again?"

"I'm tutoring Gemma in organic chemistry," Liam said smoothly. "We should probably go over the schedule. Gemma, kitchen table?"

We left Mia to her pasta and newfound friends, spreading out at the large wooden table that dominated the breakfast nook. Liam pulled out his phone, then a planner that was color-coded within an inch of its life.

"Okay," he said, full business mode. "Between your swimming schedule and my hockey, we have windows here, here, and here." He pointed to various time slots. "If we meet every day, even just for an hour, we can cover all the material twice before your exam."

"Every day?" I stared at the schedule. "Liam, that's... I can't ask you to—"

"You're not asking. I'm offering." He met my eyes steadily. "We made a deal, remember? I help you with chemistry, you teach me how to actually pursue what I want instead of waiting for life to happen to me."

"Okay," I agreed softly. "Every day."

From the living room, we heard Mia laugh again – bright and genuine. The sound made my eyes burn with sudden tears. Liam's hand covered mine on the table, warm and steady.

"She's going to be okay," he said. "You both are."