The Graham Effect (Campus Diaries, #1)

“You really like saying that word.”

“Yeah, ’cause it’s you and you don’t do girlfriends. I’m gonna keep saying it forever just ’cause I know it makes you uncomfortable.”

Speaking of uncomfortable, I suddenly remember what Gigi said last night. About how I can’t take ownership of other people’s actions.

I hesitate for a long time, watching Owen sip his coffee and scroll on his phone. I would normally never discuss this. Never dream of bringing it up. But maybe my “normal” doesn’t cut it anymore. Maybe it’s time to change the way I handle shit.

“Do you blame me?”

He lifts his head, confused. “For what?”

“For Mom.” I stare at my hands for several seconds, then force myself to meet his gaze. “Do you see him when you look at me?”

He recoils. “Fuck no.”

I can’t even describe the relief that shudders through me.

“You didn’t hurt her,” Owen says quietly.

“I didn’t save her either.”

“You were six. Trust me, if I’d been there, I wouldn’t have done much either.” Regret digs a crease into his forehead. “I’m the one who should be apologizing. I couldn’t do anything for you after it happened. I begged my dad to let you come live with us, but he wouldn’t hear it.”

“I know. It’s not your fault. I know what he’s like.”

“Yeah, but I still felt bad. I’ll always feel bad about it, that I had a family while you got shuffled around to different foster homes. My dad’s an asshole, but it’s nothing compared to the hand you got dealt.”

“It wasn’t all bad,” I assure him. “I got to play hockey, didn’t I?”

“True.”

A brief regretful silence passes between us.

“I can’t believe he’s up for parole,” I say flatly.

“Me neither.” Owen’s tone is grim.

We texted about it a while ago after I finally returned Peter Greene’s call. Like me, Owen was asked to—and has no desire to—speak at the hearing.

“And no, Ryder. Just to answer that question again. When I look at you, I don’t see him—I see you. You’re my little brother. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

We sit there in silence for a while, drinking the rest of our coffee as the sun begins to rise above the Manhattan skyline.

“You should be prepared,” Owen eventually says, glancing over to grin at me.

“For what?”

“You’re gonna marry that girl.”





CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE


GIGI



We were best friends


AT THE END OF JANUARY, I HAVE DINNER WITH MY PARENTS AFTER the team plays Boston University. Normally, we’re all expected to be on the team bus after a game, but I got special permission from Adley to stay behind. I swear, any request that has to do with my father, Adley will grant without blinking. He simply waved his hand and said, “See you tomorrow.” Tomorrow is a home game against Providence, and I’m looking forward to it. We haven’t faced Bethany Clarke and those girls since our exhibition in the fall. It’s bound to be competitive.

Wyatt is back in Nashville, so the house is a little quieter. My parents and I order Chinese takeout and eat at the kitchen counter while I track a social media thread that’s providing live updates of the men’s game against UConn.

“Ugh,” I say, squinting at my phone in irritation, “Why can’t this one be televised?” It’s actually super important for the standings, since UConn is only leading their conference by one game. Briar still has an excellent chance to edge them out.

“UConn’s so solid this year,” Dad remarks. “Connelly has them as the lock to win the Frozen Four. Don’t tell Jensen.”

“You think Briar doesn’t have a shot?”

“No, they have a real good shot,” he relents. “I’m impressed by how they managed to turn the season around.”

“It’s shocking that Ryder and Case are still playing so well together despite the complete silent treatment from Case.”

Dad raises a brow.

“Case hasn’t spoken to him in more than a month,” I admit. “Not since Ryder and I went public with our relationship. Case isn’t happy. He spent most of last year trying to win me back, but now he finally realizes it’s not going to happen.”

“And you’re okay with that?” Dad asks carefully.

“What do you mean?”

“This choice that you made.”

I sigh. “Look, I know you like Case. And he’s a good guy, but it was never going to happen, even if Ryder wasn’t in the picture. We were never getting back together.”

Dad’s mouth dips in a slight frown. “I still don’t get why it ended in the first place, Stan. It never made any sense—”

“Because he cheated on me.”

His jaw drops. Half a second later, anger floods his expression.

“No,” I interject, holding up my hand. “See, this is why I didn’t want to tell you. I didn’t want you to think badly of him.”

“How can I not?” he growls.

“He made a mistake. Honestly, he’s not a bad guy. He freaked out because things were getting too serious. Just such a typical guy thing.”

Except…Ryder hasn’t freaked out on me once.

He was the one who told me he loved me. He said it first. He wasn’t scared to, and he didn’t run screaming when I returned the sentiment.

I don’t know if Case ever truly loved me. Not only because he cheated. But because he was content—we both were—to date for nearly two years without exchanging I love yous.

“‘A typical guy thing,’” Dad echoes, amused.

“Yeah, it’s like the second they feel like they’re being locked down, they experience this overwhelming urge to go and spray their seed everywhere.”

“Stan, please don’t say the words spray and seed in my presence again.”

I snort. “Anyway. That’s why it was never going to work.”

“I get it.” He shakes his head, chuckling. “If you’d just told me this months ago, I would have let it go.”

“Oh, it’s that easy to shut you up?”

“It is.” He rounds the counter and slings his arm around me.

Mom returns to the kitchen and eyes us in amusement. “What’s going on?”

“Case cheated on Gigi,” reveals Dad.

She gasps. “No.”

“Yes,” I tell her, “but it’s over now because I’m in love with somebody else. So, let’s all just move on.”

Dad starts to cough.

“In love with somebody else, huh?” Mom teases. She turns to Dad. “See? I told you.”

He looks ill now. “Of all the men out there…”

“Come on. Ryder’s great,” I assure him.

He’s more than great.

He’s everything.

That hard exterior hides the kind of man I’m honored to be with. A man I trust enough to show every ounce of vulnerability to. A man who hears me when I gently point out a flaw and tries to alter his behavior. A man who makes me desperately happy even when I’m feeling sad.

“All right, Gigi, there’s an hour before the mall closes,” Mom says. “Did you still want to come along while I pick up Allie’s birthday gift?”

“Sure,” I say, and we head out.

We get to the mall at eight thirty, right before closing time. While Mom ducks into the jewelry store to pick up the custom pendant she got for my aunt’s birthday, I stand near a planter and text with Ryder, who’s sneaking in messages during intermission.

“Gigi?”

I glance up, then freeze. Tension fills me when I see Emma Fairlee sauntering up to me.

Oh, man. I am so not in the mood for this. The last time we crossed paths was at a party thrown by a mutual friend the summer after I started college. Emma and I stood on opposite sides of the house the entire night. Neither of us seemed interested in approaching the other, so I’m surprised she’s interested now.

She looks as beautiful as ever. Shiny hair. Perfect eyebrows. Pink lip gloss slathered on pouty lips, and designer clothing plastered to her perfect body.

Emma closes the distance between us. She has a couple of shopping bags dangling off one arm.

“Emma,” I say carefully. “Didn’t know you were in town.”

“Yeah, I’m visiting my dad for the weekend.”

The reminder of her father brings a clench of frustration, because would it kill the man to reach some sort of decision about the national team? It’s taking ages and I’m getting impatient for news.