The Deal (Off-Campus #1)(104)

“I know.” Tears sting my eyes. Shit. The last time I cried was at my mom’s funeral, when I was twelve years old. I’m embarrassed that Hannah is witnessing it, but at the same time, I want her to understand why I did it, even if it means falling apart in front of her. “Don’t you get it? The thought of anyone hurting you rips me apart.” I blink rapidly, fighting the tears. “I didn’t realize it until tonight, but…I think I was broken, too.”

Hannah looks startled. “What do you mean?”

“I was broken before I met you,” I mumble. “My entire life revolved around hockey, and being the best, and proving to my father that I didn’t need him. I didn’t let myself get close to girls because I didn’t want to be distracted from my goals. And I knew that if I did get close to someone, I’d leave them in heartbeat once I got drafted. I didn’t let a single person in, not even my closest friends, and then you came along and I realized just how fucking lonely I’ve been.”

I drop my head on her shoulder, so tired of…of everything.

After a beat, she pulls my head into her lap and strokes my hair. I curl into her, my voice muffled against her thigh. “I hate that you saw me lose it tonight.” A rush of self-loathing sears my flesh. “You told me I wasn’t capable of hurting you, but you saw what I did tonight. I didn’t go over there planning on hitting him, but he was so fucking smug, and then he called you a…he said something nasty, and I snapped.”

“You lost your temper,” she agrees. “But that doesn’t change the way I feel about you, or what I think about you. I said you’d never hurt me, and I still believe that.” Her voice shakes. “God, Garrett, if you knew how badly I wanted to rip his eyes out tonight…”

“But you didn’t.”

“Because I was in shock. I didn’t expect to see him there.” Her fingers slide over my scalp in a soft caress. “I don’t want you to hate yourself for this.”

“I don’t want you to hate me for it.”

She bends down and brushes her lips over the top of my head. “I could never hate you.”

We stay this way for a while, with her fingers in my hair and my head in her lap. Eventually she coaxes me into bed and I slide between the sheets fully clothed. We’re spooning now, except she’s the one holding me and I’m too fucking tired and ashamed to move.

I fall asleep with her hand stroking my chest.





39




Hannah


The next morning, I leave Garrett asleep in my bed and get ready for work. Although I’m still shaken up over what happened last night, I meant every word I said to him. I don’t blame him for losing his temper. In fact, some spiteful part of me is glad that Rob took a fist to the face. He deserves it after what he did to me. Lying under oath, providing testimony that allowed the case against Aaron to be dismissed…what kind of person does something so cruel and vindictive?

But I know Garrett is upset about what he did, and I know I’m going to have to work hard to make him see that he’s not the monster he thinks he is.

But I also can’t bail on work, so Operation Reassurance will have to wait.

Once I’m dressed and ready to go, I sit on the edge of the bed and touch Garrett’s cheek. “I have to go to work,” I whisper.

“Mmmddrv…yuou…?”

I deduce that he’s offering to drive me, and a smile tugs on the corner of my mouth. “I’ve got Tracy’s car today. Go back to sleep if you want. I’ll be back around five.”

“’Kay.” His eyelids flutter and a second later he’s asleep again.

I make myself a cup of instant coffee in the kitchen and chug it to jumpstart my barely functioning brain. My gaze shifts to Allie’s bedroom door, which is wide open. The glimpse of her perfectly made bed worries me only for a second, because when I check my phone, I find a text from last night that tells me Allie spent the night at Sean’s frat house.

My shift at the diner is chaotic from moment one. The breakfast crowd arrives in droves and it’s a good two hours before the rush finally dissipates. I don’t even have time to take a breath once it clears out, because Della asks me to reorganize the supplies under the counter before the lunch rush hits. I spend the next hour on my knees, moving stacks of napkins and packets of sugar from one shelf to another, and switching the coffee mug shelf with the drinking glass shelf.

When I hop to my feet, I’m startled to find a man sitting on the stool directly in front of me.

It’s Garrett’s father.

“Mr. Graham,” I squeak in surprise. “Hi.”

“Hello, Hannah.” His voice is as chilly as the December air outside the diner. “We need to talk.”

We do?

Shit. Why do I have a feeling I know exactly what he wants to talk about?

“I’m working,” I answer in an awkward tone.

“I can wait.”

Double shit. It’s only ten o’clock and I’m not off until five. Is he actually going to sit around and wait for seven hours? Because there’s no way I’ll be able to get through my shift if he’s in the diner, staring at me the whole time.

“Let me see if I can take a break,” I say hastily.