Hannah Wells Accidentally Read Garrett Graham’s Private Note!
Hannah Wells was never supposed to find the notebook. She was sitting at the scratched oak table in the Briar Hockey House kitchen, surrounded by empty pizza boxes and stray gear. Garrett had left for a mandatory team meeting 30 minutes ago, barking at her to stay put so they could grab dinner after.
While reaching for her laptop charger, her hand knocked against his battered leather playbook. A loose sticky note slipped out, landing face up on the floor. In Garrett’s messy, aggress1ve handwriting, it read, “Tell Wells before Friday. If she hears it from the athletic board first, she’s gone. Do not let Logan see the ledger.
” Hannah blinked, her chest tightening. Friday, which was tomorrow. And what ledger? Her eyes inadvertently caught a line written directly into the notebook underneath. Option A, transfer funding. Option B, take the penalty. Either way, she doesn’t get hu.rt. Hannah immediately knew something was wrong.
Before she could process the words, the heavy front door slammed open. “I’m telling you, it’s a tactical disaster.” Dean DeLaurentis’ voice boomed from the hallway. “If coach finds out you’re messing with logistics, he’ll have you skating su1cides.” “Shut up, Dean.” Garrett muttered, his voice rough. “It’s under control.
” Hannah shoved the notebook under her textbooks just as Garrett, Dean, and John Logan walked in. Garrett looked sweaty and slightly annoyed, his backward Briar cap hiding his messy blonde hair. The moment his gray eyes locked onto Hannah, his shoulders tensed for a fraction of a second. “Hey.” Garrett said, leaning down to press a quick, firm kiss to her temple.
The scent of ice and leather washed over her. “You ready to go?” “Depends.” Hannah said, her sharp wit masking a sudden spike of adrenaline. “Are we going somewhere where Dean isn’t allowed?” “Hey, I am a delight.” Dean countered, grabbing a stale slice of pizza. “And for the record, Wells you should be thanking me.
I’m the only one keeping your boy from making a ma.ssive strategic blunder.” “Dean.” Logan warned, his sharp eyes darting from the notebook sticking out under Hannah’s textbooks to the rigid line of Garrett’s jaw. Logan stepped between Dean and the table. “Go wash your hands. What strategic blunder?” Hannah asked, her eyes locked on Garrett.
“Are you sabotaging the team again?” Garrett didn’t laugh. He reached out, his large hand wrapping around her wrist, his thumb executing a slow, rea.ssuring circle. The touch was possessive, protective, and entirely too deliberate. Dean’s an idiot. Let’s get out of here. But that wasn’t the real problem. As Garrett pulled her up, his elbow brushed her textbooks, knocking them aside.
The leather notebook was fully exposed. Garrett’s eyes dropped to it. His thumb stopped moving. He didn’t scramble to grab it. Instead, his expression closed off into an unreadable, emotionally guarded mask. He picked up the notebook, tucked it under his arm, and looked right at her. “Let’s go.” he repeated, his voice dropping an octave.
Hannah nodded, grabbed her backpack, and followed him out. The drive to the diner was completely silent. Garrett kept one hand tight on the steering wheel, his knuckles white. Every time the car stopped, Hannah wanted to demand answers. Why was she going to be gone if she found out from the athletic board? What did a hockey ledger have to do with her music finals? She held her tongue, delaying the confrontation.
She needed to know how deep this went first. They got a booth in the back of the packed student diner. “Are you going to tell me what’s going on?” Hannah asked the moment dropped off two mugs of black coffee. Garrett leaned forward. “There’s nothing to tell, Wells. Dean’s dr4matic.” “You wrote my name in your notebook, Garrett,” she said, leaning in so the neighboring table couldn’t hear.
“You wrote that if I find out from the athletic board, I’m gone. Are they canceling my winter showcase performance?” Garrett’s jaw clenched. “No, your showcase is fine.” “Then what is it?” Before he could answer, the bell above the door jingled. Ali Hayes walked in, her bright pink coat making her instantly recognizable.
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. “Hannah, have you checked your student portal? The athletic board just pa.ssed 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 sh0t at the Boston Symphony fellowship. She looked at Garrett. His expression hadn’t changed, but his fingers were tapping a restless, aggress1ve 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.” 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. “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. “If you sign it, my showcase is ruined. If you don’t sign it, your team loses their ranking.
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 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 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 ma.ssive 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 d@mn 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, aggress1ve, and fiercely loyal. Hannah stared at his hand on her arm, her anger replaced by a heavy vulnerabil1ty. 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. 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 department. And if he finds out, he’ll confront his old man. It’ll cause a ma.ssive blowout. 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 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 d4ngerously 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 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, 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 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 f1ghting 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.
The two hockey players stood chest to chest, both ma.ssive 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 de@d silent. Logan looked at Garrett.
You didn’t sign it? The de@dline is 9:00 a.m. tomorrow, Garrett muttered, his eyes shifting toward Hannah, a silent heavy look pa.ssing 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, 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 a.ss, Wells, he murmured, a faint smile breaking through his guarded expression.
That’s why you love me, Grim, she sh0t 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 vi0lently. 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 rea.ssigned 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.
” 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 gr.i.p around her waist tightened. The second note wasn’t meant for him, but the new problem had already arrived.
