"Do you want to know why he's succeeding right now? What enables him to do that?" Mr. Graham smirks. "It's because of me. Because my signature is on the tuition checks I send to Briar. He goes to school because of me. He buys his textbooks and pays for his booze because of me. His car? Insurance? Who do you think makes the payments for that? And his gear? The boy doesn't even have a job-how do you think he's able to live? Because of me."
I feel sick. Because now I do know where he's going.
"I generously allow him these luxuries because I know his goals align with mine. I know what he wants to achieve, and I know he's capable of achieving it." His jaw hardens. "But we've hit a little speed bump, haven't we?"
He gives me a pointed stare, and yep, I'm the speed bump.
"So this is what's going to happen." His tone is deceptively pleasant. Garrett is right. This man is a monster. "You're going to break up with my son. You won't see him anymore, you won't remain friends with him. This will be a clean break with absolutely no further contact. Do you understand?"
"Or what?" I whisper, because I need to hear him say it.
"Or I cut the boy off." He shrugs. "Bye-bye tuition and books and cars and food. Is that what you want, Hannah?"
My brain snaps into overtime, rapidly running over my options. I'm not about to let some asshole blackmail me into ending things with Garrett, not when there are clearly other solutions available to us.
But I haven't given Phil Graham enough credit, because apparently he's not just a jerk, but a mind reader.
"You're considering what will happen if you say no?" he guesses. "Trying to think of a way you can still be with Garrett without him losing everything he's worked so hard for?" He chuckles. "Well, let's see, shall we? He can always apply for financial aid."
I silently curse him for raising the idea that had just entered my mind.
"But wait, he didn't qualify for financial aid." Graham looks like he might actually be enjoying himself. "When your family's income is as substantial as ours, schools don't give you money, Hannah. Believe me, Garrett applied. Briar turned him down on the spot."
Shit.
"A bank loan?" Garrett's father suggests. "Well, that's hard to get approved for when you have no credit or assets."
My brain scrambles to keep up. Garrett must have credit, though. Some kind of income. He told me he works during the summer.
But Mr. Graham is like a sniper, shooting down every thought that enters my head.
"He gets paid in cash for his construction work. What a pity, huh? No record of income, no credit, not needy enough to warrant help from Briar." He tsks with his tongue and I almost smack him in the face. "So where does that leave us? Oh, right, the other option you're considering. My son will find a job and pay for his own education and expenses."
Yep, that idea has also occurred to me.
"Do you know how much an Ivy League education costs? Do you think he can pay that kind of tuition 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.
"What the hell is going on?" I demand in frustration.
She hesitates, her gaze darting toward Allie's closed door. "Can we talk in my room?"
"Sure, as long as we actually fucking talk," I mutter.
We go to her bedroom and she shuts the door. When she turns to face me, I know exactly what she's going to say.
"I'm sorry I've been acting so weird. I've just been doing some thinking … "
Holy shit. She's breaking up with me. Because nobody starts a sentence with "I've just been doing some thinking … " without ending that sentence with, "and I don't think we should see each other anymore."
Hannah lets out a breath. "And I don't think we should see each other anymore."
Even though I'm expecting it, the quiet words stab me in the heart and send a tornado of pain spiraling through me.
She hurries on when she notices my expression. "It's just … things are moving too fast, Garrett. It's barely been two months and we're already at the I-love-you stage, and it's so super serious all of a sudden, and … " She looks frazzled and sounds upset.
I, on the other hand, am neither frazzled nor upset.
I'm devastated.
I choke back the bitterness lining my throat. "Why don't you say what you really mean?"
She frowns. "What?"
"You said you didn't hate me for losing my temper with Delaney, but that's what all this is about, right? It scared you. It made you see me as some reckless caveman who can't control his violent urges, right?"
Shock fills her eyes. "No. Of course not."
The conviction in her voice makes me falter. It's so easy for me to read this girl, and as I search her eyes, I can't find even a hint that she might be lying to me. But … fuck. If she's not pissed about Delaney, then why the hell is she doing this?
"We're moving too fast," she insists. "That's what this is about."
"Fine," I say tersely. "Then let's slow it down. What is it you want? You want us to see each other only once a week? Stop crashing at each other's places? What do you want?"
I thought my heart couldn't throb any worse than this, but then she stabs another sword of agony into it.
"I want us to see other people."
All I can do is stare at her. I'm afraid of what might come out of my mouth if I try to talk.
"I mean, I've only had one serious relationship before you, Garrett. How do I know what love is? What if there's something more out there … someone else … something … better, I guess."