I silently curse him for raising the idea that had just entered my mind.
“But wait, he didn’t qualify for financial aid.” Graham looks like he might actually be enjoying himself. “When your family’s income is as substantial as ours, schools don’t give you money, Hannah. Believe me, Garrett applied. Briar turned him down on the spot.”
Shit.
“A bank loan?” Garrett’s father suggests. “Well, that’s hard to get approved for when you have no credit or assets.”
My brain scrambles to keep up. Garrett must have credit, though. Some kind of income. He told me he works during the summer.
But Mr. Graham is like a sniper, shooting down every thought that enters my head.
“He gets paid in cash for his construction work. What a pity, huh? No record of income, no credit, not needy enough to warrant help from Briar.” He tsks with his tongue and I almost smack him in the face. “So where does that leave us? Oh, right, the other option you’re considering. My son will find a job and pay for his own education and expenses.”
Yep, that idea has also occurred to me.
“Do you know how much an Ivy League education costs? Do you think he can pay that kind of tuition working part-time?” Garrett’s father shakes his head. “No, he’ll have to work full-time in order to do that. He might be able to keep attending school, but he’ll have to drop hockey, won’t he? And how happy will he be then?” His smile chills me to the bone. “Or let’s assume he can juggle it all—full-time job, school, and hockey…there won’t be much time left for you, will there, Hannah?”
Which is exactly what he wants.
I feel like I might throw up. I know he’s not fucking around. He will cut Garrett off if I don’t do what he says.
I also know that if Garrett found out about his father’s threat, he’d tell him to fuck right off. He’d pick me over the money, but that only makes me sicker, because Mr. Graham is right. Garrett would have to drop out or work his ass off, which either means no hockey altogether, or no time to focus on hockey. And I want him to focus on it, damn it. It’s his dream.
My mind continues to spin.
If I break up with Garrett, Mr. Graham wins.
If I don’t break up with Garrett, Mr. Graham still wins.
Tears well up in my eyes. “He’s your son…” I choke on the words. “How can you be so cruel?”
He looks bored. “I’m not cruel. I’m just practical. And unlike some people, I have my priorities in order. I’ve invested a lot of time and money in that boy, and I refuse to see all that hard work go to waste over a piece of coed pussy.”
I flinch in repulsion.
“Get it done, Hannah,” he says harshly. “I mean it, don’t fucking test me, and don’t think I’m bluffing.” His icy stare pierces my face. “Do I look like a man who bluffs?”
Acid burns my throat as I slowly shake my head. “No. You don’t.”
40
Garrett
Hannah has been avoiding me for days. She’s playing it off like she’s busy, and yeah, she has work and rehearsal, but she’s been working and rehearsing since the moment we started dating and it sure as hell hasn’t stopped her from coming by for a quick dinner, or chatting on the phone with me before bed.
Ergo—she’s fucking avoiding me.
I don’t need to be a Mensa member to know that it’s because of the way I went after Delaney. That’s the only reason I can think of for why she might be upset with me, and I’m not sure I blame her. I shouldn’t have hit the guy. Especially not in the arena in front of hundreds of witnesses.