My face collapses and I whisper, “It’s Aaron’s best friend. He’s one of the guys who testified against me after the—”
Garrett is already stalking away.
38
Garrett
My blood roars between my ears. I hear Hannah calling after me but I can’t stop moving. It’s like I’m watching the world through a red mist. I’ve gone on autopilot, turning into an asshole-seeking missile that travels in a straight path toward Rob Delaney.
The bastard who helped Hannah’s rapist get off without so much as a slap on the wrist.
“Delaney,” I call out.
His shoulders tense. Several people glance our way, but there’s only one person I’m interested in at the moment. He turns around, dark eyes momentarily flickering with panic when he notices me. He saw me talking to Hannah. Probably figured out what she told me.
He says something to his friends and takes a hasty step away from the group, and my jaw turns to stone as he warily approaches me.
“Who the hell are you?” he mutters.
“Hannah’s boyfriend.”
His expression conveys unmistakable fear, but he still tries to play it off cool. “Yeah? Well, what do you want?”
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.