Break My Heart: An Enemies-to-Lovers Coach’s Daughter Sports Romance (Western Wildcats Hockey)
Break My Heart: Chapter 17

With a quick peek at my phone, I take the stairs to the second floor two at a time. As I round the corner to my bedroom, Bridger steps into the hallway. The purple smudges under his eyes and the tightness around his mouth tell me everything I need to know.

“Hey, man,” I say, slowing down. “You doing all right?”

I almost wince.

Stupid question.

Of course he’s not.

It seems like every day a new message is popping up and his father is up his ass about it.

His jaw tightens as he drags a hand through his already mussed hair. “Yeah. I’m fine.”

“Any closer to figuring out who’s behind this shit?” I ask, crossing my arms against my chest.

His gray gaze flicks to mine. Frustration is written across the tight lines of his face. “No. But when I do, I swear, I’m going to bury them.”

With a frown, I shake my head. “I don’t get it. Who could hate you enough to do this?”

Bridger’s one of the easiest guys on the team to get along with. He’s smart, athletic, and popular, but he’s not a dick about it. The idea that someone’s out there with a grudge big enough to go after him like this… it doesn’t add up.

He exhales sharply, the tension in his shoulders never easing. “I don’t know. But I’m so fucking tired of it. I’m going through hell while they hide behind a screen like a coward.”

“Yeah, it’s messed-up.” I clench my fists. “If there’s anything I can do, just let me know.”

His lips twitch, but it’s a far cry from a smile. “Thanks. I appreciate it.”

With a nod, I twist the handle to my door. “Seriously, if you need anything…”

“Yeah, I know.” He gives me a grim smile. “A few of us were gonna go out and grab some food. You want in?”

“Wish I could, but I’ve got a paper due at midnight.”

“Good luck with that,” he mutters, already walking toward the stairs. “I’ll catch you later.”

I watch him disappear before slipping into my room. After closing the door behind me, I twist the lock and lean against it for a second as Ava’s face flashes in my mind. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about the way she dropped her guard and opened up at the rink. The pain that flooded her voice as she told me about her old coach. The way she was groomed and manipulated by someone she trusted.

It’s so fucked-up.

It takes effort to refocus my attention on the business at hand. I’ve got two minutes to clear my mind. I strip off my clothes in record time, leaving them in a heap on the floor. When I’m wearing nothing but my boxer briefs, I grab my laptop and drag the desk chair over to the bed, positioning it before flipping it open. The camera light blinks on, and I adjust the angle until it’s a perfect shot of me stretched out on the mattress.

Earbuds in, music filling the silence, I close my eyes and force myself to get into the right headspace. It’s been a routine for a while now, something I’ve perfected over the years.

It’s easy money.

Usually.

But tonight, I can’t shake the heaviness sitting in my chest.

I see Ava’s face again. Her eyes, wide and uncertain, the raw pain in her voice when she told me how it all went down with Nathan.

How he’d crossed every line and shattered her trust.

It makes me fucking sick to my stomach.

I’d like nothing more than to replace that asshole and make him pay for what he did to her.

For the damage he caused, the way he made her feel small and used.

Even when the first few comments pop up on the screen, people already tuning in, all I can think about is how much I hate the idea of her still having to deal with him.

Still receiving those texts.

I flex my abs and shift on the bed, needing to get my head back in the game, but it’s useless. The more I try to push Ava out of my mind, the more I feel this growing need to protect her.

To be there for her in a way no one else has been.

And that’s the scariest part of all.

Since those thoughts aren’t conducive to what needs to happen, I force them from my head for a second time and allow my hand to stroke over my chest. It’s so damn tempting to rush through this, but I refuse to do that.

That’s not what these people are paying for.

And since I need the money, I force myself to slow my roll and draw out every touch and stroke of my hand.

At the end of the day, it’s not about me.

It’s about them.

The people paying good money to see me get off.

With lazy movements, my fingers circle around one nipple and then the other until both stiffen. I’ve given serious consideration to piercing them. I bet the fans would go fucking crazy over that, but I’ve just never found the time to get it done. And now that there’s only a few months left until graduation, there doesn’t seem to be much point. As soon as I sign my NHL contract, my little X-rated performances will be a thing of the past.

As the music thumps a steady beat, everything inside me loosens, and I allow both hands to wander, caressing every inch of exposed flesh. They continue their descent before one slides along the thick length of my erection pressing against the cotton of my underwear.

The moment I squeeze the tip, thoughts of Ava shove their way back into my brain. What it felt like to wrap her up in my arms and offer comfort. Her warm weight nestled against me. How close we came to kissing before guilt slammed into me, and I yanked myself back from the precipice.

It had been so damn tempting to brush my lips across hers.

The need rushing through my veins had been like nothing I’d ever experienced before.

I cup my balls and massage them. A guttural groan escapes from me as I shift, my cock growing even harder.

When I can’t stand another second of the torture, my hand slips beneath the elastic band of the boxers, and I shove them down until my dick can spring free of the confines. My teeth sink into my lower lip as I fist the hot length, tightening my hold until it turns borderline painful.

Even though I’m conflicted about Ava and how to proceed with her, I can’t stop thoughts of her lithe body from rolling through my head. I want to stretch her out naked and lick every silky inch of her skin. I want to run my tongue over her pussy until she’s writhing beneath me and screaming out her orgasm. That image alone is almost enough to make me lose control.

Which never happens.

I’m always the one calling the shots.

A tortured groan makes its way past my lips as I bow my spine, and hot spurts of cum jet from my cock, landing on my lower abdomen.

My breathing turns harsh as I strangle the life out of my dick until every last drop has been wrung from it, and I’m softening in my palm. Only then do my muscles loosen as I relax against the mattress.

I stretch my arms above my head as endorphins flood my system, making me drowsy and satisfied. Music pours through my earbuds as I rub the jizz around my belly.

I give it a few moments before rolling to the side, throwing up the peace sign, and ending the video. Five hundred comments and a whole hell of a lot of emojis greet me from the screen, but I’m not in the mood to go through them.

After slamming the laptop closed, I grab a few tissues and wipe up the cum before tossing them in the trash can near the nightstand and pulling the elastic band back over my cock. Once the earbuds have been removed, I sit on the edge of the bed as the sassy figure skater shoves her way back into my brain for the umpteenth time today.

I have no idea what to do about her.

If I’m honest with myself, she’s become something of an obsession.

No matter how hard I try, I can’t stop thinking about her.

She’s not what I expected.

And that’s the problem.

After everything she confided this afternoon, I’m unsure how to move forward.

Or even if I should.

What can’t be denied is that she’s been to hell and back.

The last thing I want to do is inflict more damage.

The funny thing is, she doesn’t come across as someone who’s fragile, but deep down, I think that’s exactly what she is.

I drag a hand through my hair.

I really need to think about this.

She’s not a girl I can fuck around with and then flee the scene of the crime.

There’s also the fact that she’s Coach’s daughter.

If I have any brains whatsoever, I’ll cut my losses and avoid her for the foreseeable future.

Graduation is right around the corner, and then I’ll sign my contract and play in the pros. My family will be taken care of. At the end of the day, that’s the most important thing.

My family.

But…

I’m afraid it might be too late to bail.

My life has always been complicated.

How the fuck did it get even more so?

As those thoughts circle through my brain, my belly grumbles. Only then do I remember that it’s been hours since I grabbed something to eat. With that, I rise to my feet before throwing on a shirt and sweatpants. I make a pitstop in the bathroom to wash my hands and then head down to the first floor.

I step inside the dark kitchen and stumble to a halt when I replace Willow, Maverick McKinnon’s newly minted girlfriend. Our gazes catch as she tucks a stray lock of blonde hair behind her ear.

We’ve known each other since elementary school. Her twin brother River and I played hockey on a lot of the same teams while growing up.

My lips settle in a smirk as memories of the first time I caught her sneaking out of our house at the butt crack of dawn after spending the night with Maverick. Given his contentious relationship with her brother, it had been a shock.

Especially since Mav hadn’t known the identity of his one-night stand.

I’m not gonna lie, watching their relationship play out with all the secrets and subterfuge had been hilarious.

A small smile simmers around the edges of her lips as she rolls her eyes. It’s like she can read the thoughts in my head.

I’ve always liked Willow. She was diagnosed with childhood leukemia in high school. She’s been in remission for a couple years now, and it’s nice to see her thriving. I’m glad she and Maverick worked out. He’s a good dude, and he seems to genuinely care about her.

River, on the other hand?

He’s not as thrilled about his twin’s new love interest.

From what I’ve seen, they’re both trying to get along for Willow’s sake.

I beeline to the fridge and peek inside. Disappointment bubbles up inside me when I don’t replace much in the way of sustenance. With my fingers tapping against the door, I throw out the question. “How’s it going?”

“Pretty good. And you?”

“Same.”

From the corner of my eye, I watch as she grabs a piece of fruit from the counter before taking a few steps toward the living room.

“Willow?” Her name shoots out of my mouth before I can think better of it.

She glances at me with raised brows from the other side of the threshold. “Yeah?”

Now that she’s staring at me with curiosity brimming in her wide blue eyes, I’m unsure what to say.

All right, that’s a lie. It’s all there on the tip of my tongue. I just need to grow a pair of balls and force out the words.

I stare past her into the living room and see Maverick is sprawled out on the couch with a controller in his hand as he stares at the big screen TV mounted on the far wall.

I clear my throat and drop my voice. The last thing I need is any of these nosy bastards eavesdropping on our convo. “Do you, um, have a moment?”

Surprise flashes across her face as she steps back inside the kitchen. “Sure. What’s up?”

Well, hell.

I have no idea how to bring this up without sounding like a total puss.

When I remain silent, she hikes a brow.

Fuck.

Why does this feel so hard?

I drag my hand through my hair. “So, I kind of like someone.”

She blinks, as if that was the last thing she was expecting me to say. “You do?”

“Yeah.”

A smile curves her lips. “What’s the problem with that?”

I huff out a breath before sidling closer. “I don’t know. The situation is complicated.”

“Is it more complicated than sneaking around behind your twin’s back because you’ve been seeing the one guy he can’t stand?”

I snort out a laugh as some of the tension filling my shoulders drains away. “Probably not. It’s more like she’s been through a lot in the past year or so, and I’m afraid of inflicting further damage.”

Her expression softens. “If you’re thinking along those lines, then you’re probably already being careful with her. Anyone would appreciate that.”

I let her words settle inside me.

“Yeah, I guess.” With a nod, I break eye contact. “I’m just not sure if it’s better to walk away now before anything gets too serious between us.”

“How does she feel about the situation?”

“I don’t know.”

“Maybe you should talk to her about it first before you make any decisions.” There’s a moment of silence before she adds, “After I went into remission, one of the hardest parts was how my friends and family acted like I was made of spun glass. I hated it so much. All I wanted was to be treated like everyone else, not like I was weak or constantly on the verge of relapse. I don’t know anything about this girl, but I can almost guarantee she doesn’t want you to view her through the lens of her past, like she’s breakable.”

I release a pent-up breath from my lungs. “It’s different with her.”

“I get that. But don’t you think it might help to have an open and honest conversation with her before you make any decisions? Especially if you have feelings for her.”

“Thanks for the advice.” Everything she just said somersaults through my head. “I’ll give it some thought.”

She flashes an easy smile. “Want to give me a clue as to who the lucky girl is?”

I shake my head. “Nah. Like you said, I should probably talk to her first and get everything figured out.”

“All right. Sounds like a plan. Good luck.”

“Thanks.”

I’ll probably need it.