The Deal

I draw a calming breath. It doesn’t calm me down. At all. “I just wanted to meet the asshole who aided and abetted a rapist.”


There’s a long moment of silence. Then he scowls at me. “Fuck off. You don’t know shit about me, man.”

“I know everything about you,” I correct, my whole body trembling with barely-restrained fury. “I know you let your friend drug my girl. I know you stood by while he took her upstairs and hurt her. I know you committed perjury afterward to back him up. I know you’re a piece of shit without a conscience.”

“Fuck off,” he says again, but his bravado wavers. He looks stricken now.

“Really? Fuck off? That’s all you have to say? I guess that makes sense.” I swallow the acid coating my throat. “You’re a fucking coward who couldn’t defend an innocent girl. So why would you have the balls to defend yourself?”

The bitter accusations trigger his anger. “Get out of my face, man. I didn’t come here tonight to get railed on by some dumb jock. Go back to your slut girlfriend and—”

Oh hell no.

My fist snaps out.

After that, everything is a blur.

People are shouting. Someone grabs the back of my jacket, trying to yank me off Delaney. My hand throbs. I taste blood in my mouth. It’s like an out-of-body experience that I can’t even describe because I’m not there. I’m lost in a haze of unchecked anger.

“Garrett.”

Someone slams me into a wall, and I instinctively release a right hook. I glimpse a flash of red, hear my name again, a sharp, emphatic “Garrett”—and my vision clears in time to see the blood spurting from the corner of Logan’s mouth.

Oh shit.

“G.” His voice is low and ominous, but there’s no mistaking the worry swimming in his eyes. “G, you’ve gotta stop.”

All the oxygen in my lungs shudders out in a rush. I glance around and find a sea of faces staring at me, hear hushed voices and confused whispers.

And then Coach appears, and I’m suddenly hit with the gravity of what I’ve just done.


Two hours later, I stand in front of Hannah’s door, and I barely have enough strength left to knock.

I can’t remember the last time I reached this level of intense exhaustion. Instead of a post-game celebration with my team tonight, I sat in Coach’s office for more than an hour and listened to him shout at me for starting a fight on school property. Which, by the way, earned me a one-game suspension. To be honest, I’m surprised the punishment wasn’t stiffer, but after Coach and a few other Briar officials got the whole story out of me, they decided to go easy on me. Hannah had given me permission to tell them about her history with Delaney, insisting that she didn’t want them to think I was some psycho who went around attacking random hockey fans for no good reason, but I still feel like a shit for sharing her trauma with my coach.

One-game suspension. Jesus. I deserve a helluva lot worse.

I wonder if my dad has heard about the suspension yet, but I know he must have. I bet he has someone at Briar on his payroll to feed him information about me. Luckily, he wasn’t around when I left the arena, so I was spared from dealing with his wrath tonight.

Logan was there, though, waiting for me outside, and I’ve never been more ashamed in my life as I apologized to my best friend for hitting him. But Hannah had also given me the okay to share the truth with Logan, and after I told him who Rob was and why I went after him, Logan was ready to go after Rob himself, and then he apologized to me for pulling me off the bastard. That’s when I realized how much I fucking love the guy. He might be crushing on my girlfriend, but he’s still the best friend I’ve ever had. And hell, I can’t even fault him for the girlfriend-crushing part because why wouldn’t he want to be with someone as incredible as Hannah?

I’m nervous as hell when she opens the door to let me in, but she surprises me by immediately throwing her arms around me. “Are you okay?” she says urgently.

“I’m fine.” It sounds like I’m speaking through a mouthful of gravel, so I clear my throat before continuing. “I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry, baby.”

She tilts her head to look up at me, regret etched into her face. “You shouldn’t have gone after him.”

“I know.” My throat closes up. “I couldn’t stop myself. I kept picturing that bastard sitting on the witness stand, calling you a whore and saying you took drugs and seduced his friend. It made me sick.” I weakly shake my head. “No, it made me crazy.”

She takes my hand and leads me to her room, closing the door behind her before joining me on the edge of the bed. She reaches for my hand again, and gasps when she sees the state of my knuckles. They’re cracked and caked with blood, and even though I washed my hands thoroughly before coming here, the little cuts have opened up and are now dribbling with blood.