The silence in the cab was suffocating, the hum of the engine sounding like a ticking clock. Every answer she had gathered from that hidden letter was only creating a massive, terrifying [music] problem. Garrett was fighting his father in the shadows, using his own hockey career as a shield to protect her music grant, and he was completely shutting her out of the narrative.
He dropped her off in front of the humanities building, the truck idling against the curb. Hey, Garrett said. His large hand extending across the center console to catch her wrist before she could open the door. His thumb executed a slow, heavy circle against her skin, an unspoken protective gesture that anchored her to the seat.
His gray eyes searched hers, intense and entirely serious. Good luck on the midterm. >> [music] >> Don’t let the music department heads get into your head today. You’re better than all of them. Hannah looked at his hand on her wrist, her heart aching with a dangerous mixture of vulnerability and frustration. >> [music] >> Garrett, if something is going on with the athletic board nothing is going on, Wells, he interrupted, his sarcastic mask sliding back into place with practiced ease.
Just focus on your chords. I’ll pick you up at 4:00. Hannah walked into the student union two hours later, her midterm finished, but her mind completely checked out. She found Ally Hayes sitting in a corner booth, surrounded by colorful highlighters. Oh, thank god you look miserable, Ally said, sliding her books out of the way.
Garrett’s dad is trying to pull my showcase funding, Hannah said flatly, leaning across the table, her voice dropping into a tight whisper. I found an unsent letter Garrett wrote to me. He wrote that if his dad uses [music] his captaincy to push me out of the fellowship track, he’s quitting the team. Ali, the alumni dinner is tonight.
His dad is hosting it. Dean and Logan were walking into the student union, heading straight toward their booth. Dean looked utterly triumphant, holding a glossy black invitation card in his hand like a trophy. Ladies, rejoice, Dean announced loudly, tossing the card onto the table. Because Tucker broke his collarbone last week, there is an extra seat at the captain’s table for the alumni banquet tonight.
Wellsy, you’re officially my date. Dean, shut your mouth, Logan said sharply. He looked at Hannah, his expression turning grave. Hannah, don’t go. Garrett is trying to keep this dinner completely clear of the music department. Why, Logan? Hannah challenged. [music] Because his dad told the compliance committee that a music student shouldn’t be utilizing athletic sponsored spaces.
Because he’s trying to force me to drop the fellowship so Garrett doesn’t have a distraction during the NHL draft scouting window. Logan went completely silent. You found out about the audit. I found the letter, Hannah corrected, her voice shaking slightly. Garrett is going to blow up his entire captaincy tonight, isn’t he? He’s going to refuse to sit at the table with his father’s donors.
He already told coach he’s scratching his name from the starting lineup for Friday’s qualifier if his dad doesn’t withdraw the compliance audit against your studio time, Logan admitted quietly. He’s throwing away his scout’s showcase, Hannah. He’s an idiot, Hannah whispered, her throat burning. He’s protective, Wellsy.
Ali said softly. But he’s doing it wrong. He’s treating you like a liability he needs to defend, >> [music] >> instead of a partner who can fight with him. We’re going to that dinner, Hannah said suddenly, sliding out of the booth. Dean blinked, his chaotic grin slowly returning. >> Oh, I love a formal protest.
>> Dean, this isn’t a joke, Logan warned. If Garrett sees Hannah at that head table, he’s going to lose his mind. >> Then he better hold on to it, Hannah shot back, her independent streak flaring into absolute certainty. By 8:00 p.m., the Briar University Grand Ballroom was a sea of black ties and expensive gowns.
The air smelled of expensive perfume, the murmur of wealthy alumni creating a dense wall of sound. Hannah stood at the entrance, adjusting the strap of her dark green velvet dress. Her hair was down, her lips painted a deep [music] berry red. Dean was at her side, looking unbothered by the high stakes, while Ali and Logan followed close behind.
At the far end of the room stood the head table. Hank Graham was right in the center, his silver hair groomed perfectly. And sitting next to him, looking like a caged [music] predator in a perfectly tailored black suit, was Garrett. His gray eyes scanned the crowd with a cold, unreadable focus. Then, Garrett’s eyes locked onto Hannah.
The guarded captain mask dropped, replaced by a sudden flash of pure heat and raw panic. He stood up so fast his chair scraped loudly against the hardwood floor. He walked straight across the ballroom, his long strides clearing the distance instantly. He grabbed her forearm the second he reached her, immediately steering her toward the shadowed corridor near the service exit.
>> What the hell are you doing here, Hannah? Garrett growled, his voice a rough whisper. He pinned her against the wall with his frame, his gray eyes blazing. I told you to stay at the dorms tonight. >> You told me you had film study, Graham, Hannah shot back, her chin lifting defiantly. [music] >> You forgot to mention that film study involved your father trying to systematically destroy my music fellowship.
Garrett’s [music] jaw went rigid. Who told you? >> You did, she said, pulling out the cream envelope from her clutch. She held it flat against [music] his chest, right over his fast heartbeat. You left your drafts in your desk drawer, Captain. Are you completely insane? Garrett stared at the letter, his chest heaving as his defensive walls went up.
He stepped closer, closing the remaining inches between them until her chest was pressed against his. “It’s my future, Wells.” He growled, his long fingers reaching up to grip her waist. “I handled my father. He wants to use my NHL draft ranking as leverage to dictate who I spend my time with? No chance.
I will burn my starting line position before I let him touch your career. “I don’t want your sacrifice, Garrett.” Hannah snapped back, her voice cracking with vulnerability. She wrapped her hands around his lapels. “Do you honestly think I could sit in that symphony hall knowing you gave up your qualifiers to put me [music] there? You’re protecting your own pride, not me.
” The silent acknowledgement of how much they meant to each other hung in the narrow corridor, sudden, heavy, and absolute. Garrett froze, his gray eyes darkening. His breathing was shallow, his forehead coming down to press against hers. “I’m not letting him win, Hannah.” He murmured against her skin, his voice losing its harsh edge.
