The Deal

by Elle Kennedy

  Like me, he gets right to the point. “I expect you to come home for Thanksgiving this year.”

  My shock manifests itself in the form of a sharp laugh. “No, thanks. I’ll pass.”

  “No, what you will do is come home.” A dark look hardens his features. “Or I will drag you home.”

  I genuinely don’t know what’s happening right now. Since when does he give a shit whether I come home or not? I haven’t been back once since I left for Briar. I’m in Hastings during the school year, and I spend my summers working sixty-hour weeks for a construction company in Boston and saving every last penny, which I then use to pay for rent and groceries because I don’t want to take any more of my father’s money than I absolutely have to.

  “Why the hell do you care what I do for the holidays?” I mutter.

  “You’re needed at home this year.” He’s speaking through clenched teeth, as if he’s enjoying this even less than I am. “My girlfriend is cooking dinner, and she requested your presence.”

  His girlfriend? I didn’t even realize he had a girlfriend. And how fucking sad is it that I know nothing about my own father’s life?

  The way he phrased it doesn’t escape me, either. She requested my presence. Not him.

  I meet his eyes, the same shade of gray as my own. “Tell her I’m sick. Or hell, tell her I died.”

  “Don’t test me, boy.”

  Oh, he’s busting out the boy, huh? That’s what he always called me right before his fists pummeled my gut, or smashed my face, or broke my nose for the hundredth fucking time.

  “I’m not coming,” I say coldly. “Deal with it.”

  He moves in closer, his eyes gleaming beneath the low brim of his Bruins cap as his voice lowers to a hiss. “Listen up, you ungrateful little shit. I don’t ask much of you. In fact, I don’t ask anything of you. I let you do whatever the fuck you want, I pay for your tuition, your books, your equipment.”

  The reminder makes my stomach seethe with anger. I keep a spreadsheet on my computer that documents everything he’s ever paid for so that when I gain access to my trust, I’ll know the precise amount to write on the check I plan on handing him before I tell him good riddance.

  But tuition for next term needs to be paid in December, the month before my trust comes in. And I don’t have enough in my savings account to cover the full amount.

  Which means I’m stuck being indebted to him for a little while longer.

  “All I expect in return,” he finishes, “is that you play like the champion you are. The champion I made you.” An ugly sneer twists his mouth. “Well, it’s time to pay up, son. You will come home for Thanksgiving. Understood?”

  Our eyes lock.

  I could kill this man. If I knew I could get away with it? I would actually kill him.

  “Understood?” he repeats.

  I give a curt nod, and then I stalk away without looking back.

  Hannah waits for me near the bus, worry clouding her green eyes. “Is everything okay?” she asks quietly.

  I draw in a ragged breath. “Yeah. It’s fine.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “It’s fine, babe. I promise.”

  “Graham, get your ass on the bus!” Coach shouts from behind me. “You’re holding everyone up.”

  Somehow I manage to force a smile. “I’ve gotta go. Maybe we can hang out tomorrow after my game?”

  “Call me when you’re done. I’ll see where I’m at.”

  “Sounds good.” I drop a kiss on her cheek, then head for the bus, where Coach is impatiently tapping his foot.

  He watches Hannah as she makes her way back to her friends, then shoots me a wry smile. “She’s cute. Girlfriend?”

  “No idea,” I confess.

  “Yeah, that’s how it usually is with women. They hold all the cards and we’re just clueless.” Coach slaps me on the arm. “Come on, kid. Time to hustle.”

  I take my usual seat next to Logan near the front of the bus, and he gives me a funny look as I unzip my jacket and lean my head back.

  “What?” I mumble.

  “Nothing,” he says lightly.

  I’ve known the guy long enough to figure out that a “nothing” from Logan means something entirely different, but he pops in his iPod earbuds and proceeds to ignore me for most of the ride. It isn’t until we’re ten minutes from Briar that he abruptly yanks out his earphones and turns to look at me.

  “Fuck it,” he announces. “I’m just gonna come out and say it.”

  Wariness circles my insides like a turkey vulture. I sincerely hope he’s not about to confess that he has a thing for Hannah, because shit will get awkward real fast if he does. I glance around, but most of my teammates are either sleeping or listening to music. The seniors in the back are laughing at something Birdie has just said. Nobody is paying any attention to us.

  I lower my voice. “What’s up?”

  He lets out a weary breath. “I debated saying anything at all, but fuck, G, I don’t like seeing anyone get played for a fool, especially my best friend. I figured I should wait until after the game, though.” He shrugs. “I didn’t want you to be distracted on the ice.”

  “What the hell are you talking about, man?”

  “Dean and I ended up at Maxwell’s house last night for his Halloween thing,” Logan confesses. “Kohl was there, and…”

  I narrow my eyes. “And what?”

  Logan looks so uncomfortable that my guard soars another twenty feet. He’s never one to beat around the bush, which means shit must be serious.

  “He said he’s going out with Wellsy this weekend.”

  My heart stops. “Bullshit.”

  “That’s what I thought, but…” Another shrug. “He insisted it was true. I figured I should tell you about it, you know, just in case he’s not talking out of his ass.”

  I swallow, my mind running a million miles a second. Bullshit continues to be my thought of choice, but a part of me isn’t so sure. The whole reason Hannah is even in my life is because of fucking Kohl. Because she was interested in Kohl.

  But that was before. Before she and I kissed—

  She still went to the party to see him after the kiss.

  Right. I gulp again. Well, it was after the kiss but before everything else. The sex. The secrets we shared with each other. All the cuddling.

  Told you cuddling was a mistake, dude.

  My inner cynic wreaks havoc on my brain, bringing a rush of weariness to my chest. No, Kohl had to have been bullshitting. There’s no way Hannah would agree to go out on a date with him without telling me.

  Right?

  “Anyway, just thought you should know,” Logan says.

  It’s damn difficult to speak past my tight-as-fuck throat, but I manage one mumble of a word. “Thanks.”

  31

  Hannah

  Garrett texts me just as I’m getting ready for bed. Allie and I literally walked through the door five minutes ago, and I’m surprised to hear from him again tonight. I figured he’d crash the moment he got home from the game.

  Him: Need to talk to u.

  Me: Now?

  Him: Yes.

  O-kay. It might be a text message, but it’s hard not to extrapolate his tone. And his tone is most definitely pissed off.

  Me: Um, sure. Call me?

  Him: Actually, I’m at your door.

  My head snaps toward my open doorway, half expecting to find him there. Then I feel silly because I realize he means the door to our dorm and not my bedroom. Still, this must be serious, because Garrett doesn’t usually show up unannounced.

  Queasiness eddies in my stomach as I walk past the common area to answer the door. Sure enough, Garrett is standing behind it. Still wearing his hockey jacket and sweatpants, as if he rushed right over instead of going home to change first.

  “Hi,” I greet him, gesturing for him to come inside. “What’s going on?”

  He gazes past me at the empty living room. “Where’s Allie?”
<
br />   “She went to bed.”

  “Can we talk in your room?”

  The queasiness gets worse. I can’t decipher his expression at all. His eyes are shuttered, and his tone is completely devoid of emotion. Does this have something to do with his father? I couldn’t hear their conversation earlier, but their body language had conveyed some serious aggression. I wonder if maybe they—

  “Are you going out with Justin this weekend?”

  Garrett voices the demand the moment I close my bedroom door, and I realize in dismay that this has nothing to do with his dad.

  And everything to do with me.

  Surprise and insta-guilt war inside me as I meet his eyes. “Who told you that?”

  “Logan. But he heard it from Kohl.”

  “Oh.”

  Garrett doesn’t move. He doesn’t unzip his jacket. He doesn’t even blink. He just keeps his gaze locked on mine. “Is it true?”

  I gulp. “Yes and no.”

  For the first time since he got here, his expression flashes with emotion—annoyance. “What the hell does that mean?”

  “It means he asked me out, but I haven’t decided if I’m going or not.”

  “Did you say you would?” There’s a grim edge to his tone.

  “Well, yes, but—”

  Garrett’s eyes blaze. “You actually said yes? When did he ask you?”

  “Last week,” I admit. “The day after Beau’s party.”

  His face relaxes. Just slightly. “So it was before Dean’s thing? Before you and I…?”

  I nod.

  “Okay.” He takes a breath. “Okay. Not as bad as I thought.” But then his features turn to stone again and his nostrils flare. “Wait—what do you mean, you haven’t decided if you’re going?”

  I give a helpless shrug.

  “You’re not fucking going, Hannah!”

  His sharp voice makes me wince. “Says who? You? Because last I checked, you and I aren’t dating. We’re just fooling around.”

  “Is that what you really—” He stops, his mouth twisting in a scowl. “You know what? I guess you’re right. I guess we’re just fooling around.”

  I can barely keep up with the jumbled thoughts racing through my brain. “You said you don’t do girlfriends,” I say weakly.

  “I said I don’t have time for a girlfriend,” he shoots back. “But guess what—priorities change.”

  I falter. “So you’re saying you want me to be your girlfriend?”

  “Yeah, maybe that’s what I’m saying.”

  My teeth sink into my lower lip. “Why?”

  “Why what?”

  “Why would you want that?” I bite my lip harder. “You’re all one-track about hockey, remember? And besides, we argue too much.”

  “We don’t argue. We bicker.”

  “It’s the same thing.”

  He rolls his eyes. “No, it’s not. Bickering is fun and good-natured. Arguing is—”

  “Oh my God, we’re arguing about the way we argue!” I interrupt, unable to stop from laughing.

  Garrett’s shoulders relax at the sound of my laughter. He takes a step toward me, searching my face. “I know you’re into me, Wellsy. And I’m definitely into you. Would it really be so bad if we made this thing official?”

  I gulp again. I hate being put on the spot, and I’m too confused to make sense of anything right now. Acting on impulse isn’t something I do often. I never make decisions without giving them careful thought, and although other girls might break out in cartwheels at the thought of making things “official” with Garrett Graham, I’m more pragmatic than that. I didn’t expect to like this guy. Or to have sex with him. Or to be in the position where he might be my boyfriend.

  “I don’t know,” I finally say. “I mean, I didn’t really think about you and me in terms of dating. I just wanted to…” My cheeks grow warm “…explore the attraction and see if…you know. But I didn’t think any farther ahead than that.” My confusion triples, turning my mind to mush. “I have no idea what this even is, or where it could go, or…”

  As I trail off, I notice Garrett’s expression, and the hurt in his eyes cuts into me like a knife.

  “You don’t know what this is or where it could go? Jesus, Hannah. If you…” He lets out a shaky breath, his broad shoulders sagging. “If you honestly don’t know, then we’re wasting our time. Because I know exactly what it is. I—” He halts so abruptly it gives me whiplash.

  “You what?” I whisper.

  “I—” He stops again. His gray eyes darken. “You know what? Forget it. I guess you’re right. This was all about exploring the attraction.” He sounds increasingly bitter. “I’m just your sex therapist, right? Actually, no, I’m your fucking fluffer.”

  “Fluffer?” I say blankly.

  “Like in porn,” he mutters. “They bring in the fluffer to suck off the dudes between takes so they stay hard.” Anger colors his tone. “That was my job, right? To get you nice and hot for Kohl? To get you ready to bone him?”

  Indignation prickles my skin. “One, that’s disgusting. And two, that’s not fair and you know it.”

  “I don’t know a damn thing, apparently.”

  “He asked me out before I slept with you! And I probably wasn’t even going to go!”

  Garrett barks out a harsh laugh. “You probably weren’t going to? Yeah. Thanks for that.” He takes a step to the door. “You know what? Just go on the damn date. You got what you wanted from me. I guess Justin can take it from here.”

  “Garrett—”

  But he’s already gone. Not just gone, but making his exit known as he slams my door, thuds through the suite, and slams that door too.

  I stare at the empty space he was taking up a second ago.

  I know exactly what it is.

  Garrett’s hoarse words echo in my head, and a vise of emotion constricts my heart, because I’m pretty sure I know exactly what it is too.

  And I’m scared that because of my split-second moment of indecision, I just threw it all away.

  32

  Garrett

  The temperature seems to have dropped twenty degrees from when I walked into Bristol House to when I stormed out of it. A frigid gust of wind blasts me in the face and chills the tips of my ears as I trudge toward the parking lot.

  See? This is why I avoid the whole girlfriend drama. I should be over the fucking moon tonight because the team crushed Harvard. Instead, I’m pissed off and frustrated and more upset than I expected to be. Hannah’s right—we were just fooling around. Same way I was fooling around with Kendall, or the chick before her, or the chick before that. I didn’t even bat an eye when I ended it with any of them, so why the hell am I so bummed right now?

  Thank fuck I got out of there, though. I had been seconds away from making a complete fool of myself. Saying things I shouldn’t be saying, maybe even begging. Jesus. If that’s not a sign of some serious pussy-whipping right there then I don’t know what is.

  I’m halfway to my Jeep when I hear Hannah call out my name.

  My chest clenches. I turn around and see her racing down the path from Bristol to the lot. She’s still in her PJ’s—plaid pants and a black T-shirt with yellow music notes decaled on the front.

  I’m tempted to keep walking, but the sight of her bare arms and cold-flushed cheeks pisses me off even more than our fight had. “Jesus Christ, Hannah,” I mutter when she reaches me. “You’re gonna catch a cold.”

  “That’s a myth,” she shoots back. “Cold weather doesn’t cause colds.”

  But she’s visibly shivering, and when she wraps her arms around herself and starts rubbing her bare skin to keep warm, I rumble in annoyance and hurriedly unzip my jacket.

  Gritting my teeth, I drape the coat over her shoulders. “Here.”

  “Thanks.” She looks as annoyed as I feel. “What the hell is wrong with you, Garrett? You can’t just storm off in the middle of a serious discussion!”

  “There was nothing left to d
iscuss.”

  “Bullshit.” She angrily shakes her head. “You didn’t even let me talk!”

  “Yes, I did,” I answer flatly. “And trust me, you said plenty.”

  “I can barely remember what I said. You know why? Because you totally caught me off-guard and didn’t even give me a second to think about it.”

  “What’s there to think about? You’re either into me, or you’re not.”

  Hannah makes a frustrated noise. “You’re not being fair again. Just because you suddenly decide you’re ready for a relationship and that we should be together doesn’t mean that I’m going to squeal like a sorority girl and say, wheee, yay! You clearly had time to think about it, and absorb it, but you didn’t give me any time at all. You just barged in and made accusations and ran out.”

  I experience a pang of guilt. She has a point. I did come over tonight fully knowing what I wanted from her.

  “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about the Justin date,” she says quietly. “But I’m not going to apologize for needing more than five frickin’ seconds to think about the possibility of you and me being a couple.”

  My breath comes out in a white puff that quickly gets carried away by the wind. “I’m sorry I ran off,” I concede. “But I’m not sorry that I want to be with you.”

  Those beautiful green eyes probe my face. “Do you still want that?”

  I nod. Then I gulp. “Do you?”

  “Depends.” She slants her head. “Will we be exclusive?”

  “Fuck yeah,” I say without hesitation. The thought of her seeing anyone else is like a machete to the gut.

  “Are you okay with taking it slow?” She shifts awkwardly. “Because with the showcase coming up, and the holidays, and exams, and your game schedule…we’ll both start to get busy and I can’t promise to see you every second of the day.”

  “We see each other when we see each other,” I say simply.

  I’m surprised by how calm I sound, how composed I’m staying when there’s a herd of excited butterflies thumping in my stomach and shouting hells yeah at top-volume. Jeez. I’m about to complicate my life by inviting a girlfriend into it, yet somehow I’m one hundred percent cool with that.