She marched straight over and slid into the booth next to Hannah. “Oh, thank god you guys are here.” Ali said, leaning across the table and looking directly at Garrett. [music] “Hannah, have you checked your student portal? The athletic board just passed a new compliance budget. They cut the funding for the performing arts crossover grants to subsidize the hockey team’s travel expenses.
Hannah, your studio time for the showcase composition it’s gone. Unless someone manually vetoes the allocation.” Hannah felt the air leave her lungs. Her showcase composition was her shot at the Boston Symphony fellowship. She looked at Garrett. His expression hadn’t changed, but his fingers were tapping a restless, [music] aggressive rhythm against his coffee mug.
“You knew.” Hannah whispered, the realization hitting her like a physical blow. “That’s what the note meant. You knew they were cutting my funding to give it to your team.” “Hannah, wait.” >> [music] >> Garrett said, his voice rough. He reached across the table to catch her hand, but she pulled back, tucking them into her lap.
“It’s not what it looks like.” “What happened next made everything worse.” Ali muttered, her fearless demeanor faltering. >> [music] >> “Wait. Garrett, did you vote for this?” “I don’t vote on budget committees, Ali.” Garrett snapped, his gaze never leaving Hannah. “But as captain, I have to sign off on the requested reallocations.
If I don’t sign the ledger, the team gets hit with an institutional penalty. We lose home ice advantage for the qualifiers.” The puzzle pieces clicked into place, creating an entirely new, devastating problem. Hannah sat back. [music] “If you sign it, my showcase is ruined. If you don’t sign it, your team loses their ranking.
>> [music] >> And you were going to hide it from me.” “I wasn’t going to hide it.” Garrett countered, his voice fiercely protective. “I’ve been on the phone with the Dean of Athletics trying to find a loophole. Option A was moving private booster money into the music department to cover your studio hours secretly.
Option A, Hannah repeated. And option B? Garrett stared at her, his eyes dark, intense, and completely transparent. Option B is I don’t sign the ledger. We take the penalty. We play on the road. You can’t do that, Garrett, Hannah said immediately, her independent streak flaring up. You’re the captain. Your entire life is built around this championship.
You are not throwing away home ice advantage for my studio hours. It’s my choice, Wells. No, it’s my life, she argued back, taking a deep breath to hide how deeply touched and [music] terrified she was by his willingness to ruin his own season for her. I don’t need the hockey captain playing white knight and ruining his stats. This isn’t about stats, Garrett growled, leaning closer until he was [music] inches from her face.
The proximity was electric, drawing looks from nearby booths, but neither cared. You worked for a year on that piece, Hannah. You think I’m going to let some administrative suit take that away from you just so we can have a slightly better locker room? No chance. Ally quietly slid out of the booth, realizing she was in the middle of a massive emotional collision, and vanished toward the exit.
Garrett, if you don’t sign that ledger by tomorrow morning, the athletic board will know exactly why, Hannah said softly. They’ll know it’s because of me. Do you have any idea what that kind of scrutiny does? Let them talk, Garrett said, his hand extending again, his long fingers brushing against her arm. The soft lingering touch made a shiver run down her spine.
I don’t give a damn about the school, Hannah. I care about this. I care about you. It wasn’t a love speech. It was a statement of fact. It was Garrett Graham logic, simple, aggressive, and fiercely loyal. Hannah stared at his hand on her arm, her anger replaced by a heavy vulnerability. We need to see the ledger, she said suddenly, her eyes widening as a new thought struck her. Garrett blinked.
“What?” The note said, “Do not let Logan see the ledger.” Hannah explained. “Why Logan? Why would it matter if he saw it?” Garrett’s eyes flicked toward the diner door. “Logan’s dad is one of the main boosters for the athletic department. >> [music] >> If Logan sees that his dad’s firm signed off on the performing arts cut to open up more money for hockey scouting, Logan’s dad did this.” Hannah finished.
“Logan doesn’t know his family is the one defunding the music [music] department. And if he finds out, he’ll confront his old man. It’ll cause a massive blowout. [music] And he’ll lose his focus right before the qualifiers.” Garrett said. “I was trying to keep Logan out of it while finding a way to get your studio hours back without causing a civil war.
” Nobody at Brier knew the full story. But now, Hannah held all the pieces. It was a social landmine. “We’re going back to the house.” Hannah said, sliding out of the booth. “Wells, stay out of it.” Garrett warned, rising immediately to follow her. He grabbed his jacket, throwing cash onto the table.
“I told you, I’ll handle the board.” “We’re a team, Graham.” She threw back over her shoulder as they pushed open the door into the cool night air. The drive back was fast. When they walked through the back door, the house was strangely quiet. The party from earlier had cleared out, leaving only the core group in the living room. Dean was stretched out on the leather sofa, while Logan was leaning against the fireplace mantel, staring intensely [music] at a piece of paper in his hands.
Alli was sitting on the armrest next to him, her face strained. The moment the screen door clicked shut, Logan lifted his eyes. They were cold, sharp, and filled with a quiet fury. “Garrett.” Logan said, his voice dangerously [music] calm. He held up the paper. It was a printed copy of the financial ledger.
“Why did my dad’s corporate logo just show up as the primary sponsor for the hockey team’s new travel budget. Dean shifted uncomfortably. Uh, guys, I tried to stop him from checking the alumni email chain. Garrett walked into the center of the room, putting himself slightly in front of Hannah. Logan put it away. It’s a corporate allocation.
He canceled the music grants, Garrett, Logan said, his voice cracking slightly with emotion as he stood up. He targeted the specific crossover [music] fund that Hannah’s using for her fellowship track. He did it because he thinks Briar spends too much money on the arts. Logan looked at Hannah, his eyes filled with guilt. Hannah, I didn’t know.
I swear to God I didn’t know he did this. I know, Logan, Hannah said softly, >> [music] >> stepping around Garrett’s shoulder. It’s not on you. But Garrett knew, Logan said, turning back to the captain. You knew this afternoon. Why didn’t you tell me? Why were you going to sign off on this without giving me a chance to fix [music] it? Because there’s nothing you can fix without ruining your relationship with your old man right before scouts show up, Garrett yelled back, finally losing his temper.
His protective wall broke, his voice echoing through the high ceilings. You think I want you fighting with your family while you’re trying to secure a starting line position? I’m the captain, Logan. It’s my job to take the heat, not yours. By screwing over Hannah? Logan challenged, stepping directly into Garrett’s space.
>> [music] >> The two hockey players stood chest to chest, both massive and incredibly stubborn. Dean stood up quickly, his usual chaotic energy vanishing. Woah, chill out, both of you, Dean said. Nobody’s screwing anyone over. Garrett hasn’t signed it yet. The room went dead silent. Logan looked at Garrett.
You didn’t sign it? The deadline is 9:00 a.m. tomorrow, Garrett muttered, his eyes shifting toward Hannah, a silent heavy look passing between them. He looked back at Logan. If I don’t sign it, the board penalizes the team. We lose home ice. Your dad’s allocation gets rejected automatically because the athletic department can’t accept the funds without captain compliance.
Logan stared at him. If you don’t sign, my dad withdraws the entire sponsorship. The team loses everything. I don’t care about the gear, >> [music] >> Garrett said flatly, but that wasn’t the real problem. Hannah stepped forward into the space between the two men. She looked at Garrett, her hand reaching out to touch his arm.
The contact instantly diffused the volatile energy in his shoulders. Garrett, sign the ledger, Hannah said, her voice steady and absolute. Garrett looked down at her. Wells, I told you Sign it, she repeated, her witty independent smile returning. Logan’s dad wants to buy you a fancy travel budget? Fine, let him, but I’m not letting you take a penalty for a music room.
I’ll talk to the head of the music department tomorrow. We’ll find a way. We always do. Garrett stared at her for a long agonizing moment. Slowly the tension in his jaw relaxed. He reached up, his hand covering hers where it rested on his forearm, his fingers squeezing gently. You’re a pain in my ass, Wells, he murmured, a faint smile breaking through his guarded expression.
That’s why you love me, Grim, she shot back smoothly. The emotional conflict was resolved, the unity of the house restored. Logan let out a long breath, nodding at Garrett in silent gratitude. Dean cracked a quick joke to break the heavy atmosphere, and the tension finally melted away. An hour later, the house was dark.
Dean and Logan had gone upstairs, and Ali had caught a ride back to her dorm. Hannah was sitting on the edge of Garrett’s bed, her legs curled under her. Garrett was standing by his desk, the leather notebook open before him. He picked up a pen, flipped to the back page, and deliberately crossed out option A and option B.
He walked over to the bed, sliding down next to her. The mattress dipped under his weight. He reached out, pulling her back against his chest until her head rested in the crook of his shoulder. His arms wrapped securely around her waist, holding her close. “You really didn’t sign it because of me?” She whispered into the darkness, her hand resting over his forearms.
“I told you.” Garrett muttered against her hair, his voice deep and sleepy, but laced with that fierce, unyielding possessiveness. “Nobody takes your space, Wells. Not even the board.” Hannah smiled, closing her eyes, finally feeling safe in the quiet rhythm of his breathing. The problem was solved. They were okay.
Then his phone, lying face up on the nightstand, buzzed violently. The screen illuminated the dark room, revealing a new notification from an unlisted campus administrator email address. Hannah opened her eyes, her gaze drifting to the glowing text preview before Garrett could reach for it.
The message read, “Ledger compliance acknowledged. However, due to the late submission, the athletic board has reassigned the mandatory media relations liaison for the Frozen Four tournament.” “Hannah Wells has been removed from the Arts Press team, effective immediately. Her replacement for the Boston tour is Justin Blake.
” [music] Hannah’s breath caught in her throat. She looked up at Garrett. His gray eyes were already wide, staring at the screen. The sudden, volatile heat returning to his chest as his grip around her waist tightened. [music] The second note wasn’t meant for him, but the new problem had already arrived.
Disclaimer : This content may be created by AI for entertainment purposes. Any resemblance to real persons, events, or places is coincidental.
