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Yep, that idea has also occurred to me.
“Do you know how much it costs to actually live? Do you think he can pay all those expenses working part-time?” Garrett’s father shakes his head. “No, he’ll have to work full-time in order to do that. He might be able to keep attending school, but he’ll have to drop hockey, won’t he? And how happy will he be then?” His smile chills me to the bone. “Or let’s assume he can juggle it all—full-time job, school, and hockey…there won’t be much time left for you, will there, Hannah?”
Which is exactly what he wants.
I feel like I might throw up. I know he’s not fucking around. He will cut Garrett off if I don’t do what he says.
I also know that if Garrett found out about his father’s threat, he’d tell him to fuck right off. He’d pick me over the money, but that only makes me sicker, because Mr. Graham is right. Garrett would have to drop out or work his ass off, which either means no hockey altogether, or no time to focus on hockey. And I want him to focus on it, damn it. It’s his dream.
My mind continues to spin.
If I break up with Garrett, Mr. Graham wins.
If I don’t break up with Garrett, Mr. Graham still wins.
Tears well up in my eyes. “He’s your son…” I choke on the words. “How can you be so cruel?”
He looks bored. “I’m not cruel. I’m just practical. And unlike some people, I have my priorities in order. I’ve invested a lot of time and money in that boy, and I refuse to see all that hard work go to waste over a piece of coed pussy.”
I flinch in repulsion.
“Get it done, Hannah,” he says harshly. “I mean it, don’t fucking test me, and don’t think I’m bluffing.” His icy stare pierces my face. “Do I look like a man who bluffs?”
Acid burns my throat as I slowly shake my head. “No. You don’t.”
40
GARRETT
Hannah has been avoiding me for days. She’s playing it off like she’s busy, and yeah, she has work and rehearsal, but she’s been working and rehearsing since the moment we started dating and it sure as hell hasn’t stopped her from coming by for a quick dinner, or chatting on the phone with me before bed.
Ergo—she’s fucking avoiding me.
I don’t need to be a Mensa member to know that it’s because of the way I went after Delaney. That’s the only reason I can think of for why she might be upset with me, and I’m not sure I blame her. I shouldn’t have hit the guy. Especially not in the arena in front of hundreds of witnesses.
But the thought that she might be…I don’t know…scared of me now…
It kills me.
I show up at her dorm unannounced because I know that if I text her beforehand, she’ll give me some excuse about how busy she is. I know she’s home because I pulled the most pathetic move on the planet by texting Allie to find out, followed by the dick move of begging her not to tell Hannah I’m coming over because I have a surprise for her.
I’m not sure Allie bought it. I mean, girls talk, so it stands to reason that Hannah told her best friend about whatever’s bugging her.
As I expect, Hannah doesn’t look happy to see me at her door. She doesn’t look pissed off, either, which makes me uneasy, especially when I notice the glimmer of regret in her eyes.
Shit.
“Hi,” I say gruffly.
“Hi.” Her throat bobs as she swallows. “What are you doing here?”
I suppose I can pretend that everything is all right, that I just stopped by to see my favorite girl, but that’s not who Hannah and I are. We’ve never tiptoed around the truth before, and I’m not about to start now.
“I wanted to find out why my girlfriend is avoiding me.”
She sighs.
That’s it. A sigh. Four days of zero physical contact and minimal text messages and all I get from her is a sigh.
