Chapter 2 The Storm Breaks

• Jules POV
• They disappear around the corner, leaving me alone in the hallway with my scattered papers and my relentlessly buzzing phone. The notifications won't stop. Every few seconds, another group chat lights up. Another photo gets shared. Another cruel comment gets posted.
• I slide down the wall until I'm sitting on the cold floor, watching my entire world unravel in real time through social media.
• My phone rings, cutting through the constant buzz of notifications. Dad's contact photo fills the screen—him in his coaching gear, arm around my shoulders at last year's homecoming game.
• I stare at it, completely paralyzed. After four rings, it goes to voicemail. Immediately starts ringing again.
• Around me, the athletic department continues its normal Wednesday afternoon rhythm. Coaches walking between offices with clipboards. Athletes heading to practice with equipment bags slung over their shoulders. Work-study students hurrying past with their heads down.
• None of them looking at me like I'm still part of their world.
• My phone buzzes with a text from an unknown number: Heard you like football players. Hit me up.
• Then another: Homewrecker.
• And another: Daddy issues much?
• I turn my phone face-down on the floor, but I can still hear it buzzing against the floor.
• When I finally look up through blurred vision, Maya Brooks is standing at the end of the hallway. The student manager clutches her practice schedule against her chest, staring at me with something that might be pity.
• "Maya" I start to call out.
• Instead she turns and walks away quickly, her sneakers squeaking on the floor.
• ******
• My dorm room door rattles under three sharp knocks.
• I'm curled on my bed in the same clothes from yesterday, my phone finally silent after I turned it off six hours ago. The knocking comes again, harder this time.
• "Jules, open this door right now," Dad's voice booms through the thin wood.
• My stomach drops to the floor. I've been dreading this moment since the photos went live, but I thought I'd have more time. More time to figure out what to say, how to explain, how to make him understand.
• "Jules," he says again, and there's something in his tone I've never heard before. Pure disappointment mixed with controlled rage.
• I drag myself off the bed and unlock the door with shaking hands. Coach Daniel Rowan fills the doorframe, still in his practice clothes, sweat stains dark under his arms. His face is a thundercloud of fury and betrayal.
• "Dad" I start.
• "Don't," he cuts me off, pushing past me into my tiny room. "Don't say a word until I'm finished."
• He surveys my space like he's seeing it for the first time the unmade bed, clothes scattered on the floor, empty energy drink cans on my desk. His jaw clenched."Sit down," he orders.
• I perch on the edge of my bed, pulling my knees to my chest. He remains standing, towering over me.
• "Forty-three years," he says quietly. "Forty-three years I've been building my reputation in this sport. My name means something in football circles. Integrity, Discipline and Family values."
• "Do you have any idea what you've done?" he continues, his voice getting louder. "Any idea of the damage you've caused?"
• "Dad, I can explain" I try.
• "Explain what?" he explodes. "Explain how you've been sneaking around with one of my players behind my back? Explain how you've made me look like a fool who can't even control his own family? Explain how you've turned my program into a goddamn soap opera?"
• Tears start flowing down my cheeks. "I love him."
• "Love?" Dad laughs bitterly. "You think this is love? This is selfishness, Jules. Pure, destructive selfishness."
• He starts pacing my small room like a caged animal. "I've got boosters calling me, asking if I've lost control of my program. I've got administrators questioning my judgment. I've got players asking if the rules don't apply to Coach's daughter."
• "The team will understand" I start weakly.
• "The team?" He spins to face me. "Jules, Adrian and Ethan haven't spoken since yesterday. My two team leaders won't even be in the same room together. We've got conference championships on the line, and you've blown up my locker room for what? Some teenage infatuation?"
• The words sting because part of me knows he's not entirely wrong. But he's also not entirely right.
• "It's not infatuation," I whisper. "Adrian and I, we"
• "You what?" he demands. "You love each other? You think you're going to get married and live happily ever after? Jules, you're just nineteen years old. You have no idea what love actually means."
• I stand up, anger finally cutting through my fear. "Just because I'm young doesn't mean my feelings aren't real."
• "Your feelings don't matter!" he shouts, and the words echo off my dorm walls. "Not when they destroy everything I've worked for. Not when they tear apart families and teams and people futures."
• The silence stretches between us, "I've made my decision," he says finally, his voice returning to that deadly calm. "You're done as student athletic liaison, effective as of now."
• My breath catches. "Dad, no"
• "Your credit cards are canceled," he continues like I haven't spoken. "Your car insurance, your phone plan, your meal plan supplement all of it. If you want to act like an adult and make adult decisions, then you can support yourself like an adult."
• The words hit me like a punch to my gut. "You're cutting me off completely?"
• "I'm teaching you about consequences," he says coldly. "Actions have repercussions, Jules. Real ones that hurt."
• "Where am I supposed to live?" I ask desperately. "How am I supposed to eat?"
• "You should have thought about that before you decided to humiliate our family," he replies without an ounce of sympathy.
• I stare at him in disbelief. This man who taught me to ride a bike, who cheered at every soccer game, who used to call me his little princess now he's looking at me like I'm a stranger he can't wait to get rid of.
• "You're not welcome at the house anymore," he adds, delivering the final blow. "Pack whatever you can carry. Everything else stays here."
• "Dad, please," I beg, tears streaming down my face now. "I'm still your daughter."
• "My daughter wouldn't have betrayed her family like this," he says, and his words cut deeper than anything Ethan said yesterday. "My daughter would have had more respect for what we've built together."
• He heads toward the door, then pauses with his hand on the handle.
• "Oh, and Jules?" he says without turning around. "If you think Adrian's going to be there to catch you when you fall, think again. I'm having a very interesting conversation with him and his scholarship advisor tomorrow morning."
• "Don't punish him for my choices," I plead.
• "He made his own choices," Dad replies. "Now he gets to live with the consequences too."
• The door slams behind him as I collapse back onto my bed, sobbing into my pillow as the full weight of my new reality crashes down.
• No family. No money. No job. No support system.
• And if Dad follows through on his threat, no Adrian either.
• My phone buzzes from where I left it face-down on my desk. For a wild moment, I hope it might be Adrian, finally reaching out, finally ready to fight for us.
• Instead, it's a text from Financial Aid: Your account has been flagged for review. Please schedule an appointment immediately to discuss your aid status.