The Deal

“How much trouble are you in?” she asks.

“Not as much as I deserve. One-game suspension, which shouldn’t hurt the team too bad. Our record is solid enough that we can afford a loss if it comes down to that. And the cops weren’t called because Delaney refused to press charges. The Buffalo coach tried to get him to change his mind, but he told everyone that he provoked me.”

Her eyebrows shoot up. “He did?”

“Yeah.” I let out a breath. “Too much of a hassle dealing with the police, I guess. He probably just wanted to go back to whatever hole he crawled out of and pretend it never happened. Just like how he pretended that his best friend didn’t hurt you.” Bile bubbles in my throat. “How the fuck is that fair, Hannah? Why aren’t you angrier? Why aren’t you furious that your rapist is walking around free? And his slimy friends are the ones who helped him get off.”

She sighs. “It’s not fair. And I am angry. But…well, life isn’t always fair, babe. I mean, look at your father—he’s every much a criminal as Aaron is, and he’s not in jail either. If anything, he’s still revered by every hockey fan in this country.”

“Yeah, because nobody knows what he did to me and my mom.”

“And you think if they knew, they’d stop idolizing him? Some of them might, but I guarantee you that a lot of them won’t care, because he’s a star athlete and he won lots of games, so that makes him a hero.” She shakes her head sadly. “Do you realize how many abusers are walking around unpunished? How many rape charges are dropped because of ‘insufficient’ evidence, or how many date rapists get away with what they’ve done because the victim is too scared to tell anyone? So yeah, it’s not fair, but it’s also not worth agonizing over.”

Sorrow clogs my throat. “You’re a better person than I am, then.”

“That’s not true,” she chides. “Remember what you told me on Thanksgiving? How your father isn’t worth your anger and revenge? Well, that’s the best revenge right there, Garrett. Living well and being happy is how we get over the shit in our past. I was raped, and it was awful, but I’m not going to waste my time or energy either, not on some pathetic, screwed-up guy who couldn’t take no for an answer, or his pathetic friends who thought he deserved to be rewarded for his actions.” She sighs again. “I put it all behind me. You really didn’t have to confront Rob on my behalf.”

“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