Chapter Text
Hannah had thought the third time would hurt less.
Instead, her stomach twisted tighter with every step down the concrete corridor of the Briar U arena. The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, sharp and cold, and somewhere beyond the walls she could hear skates carving against ice. Practice was over. The boys would all be inside.
She stopped outside the locker room doors, fingers curling against the metal handle.
She could still leave.
The thought came fast and ugly, slipping beneath her ribs before she could stop it. She could walk away, go back to her dorm, crawl under her blankets, pretend none of this had anything to do with her.
Except it did.
Garrett had been suspended for four games. The team’s wins had been stripped. Their season had been gutted in less than twenty-four hours because Garrett had lost control for two minutes on the ice.
Two minutes defending her.
Even now, thinking about him made something raw pull tight in her chest. The breakup still sat inside her like an open wound, tender and bleeding every time she breathed too hard. But none of that changed the truth.
Garrett hadn’t snapped because he was arrogant.
He hadn’t snapped because he was reckless.
He’d snapped because Aaron Delaney had looked him in the eye and weaponized the worst thing that had ever happened to her.
And Hannah was done letting Delaney ruin people she loved.
Her mom’s voice echoed faintly in her head. Then Allie’s. Gentle but firm. None of this was your fault.
For the first time, Hannah almost believed it.
She shoved the door open before she could lose her nerve again.
The noise hit her first—laughter, lockers slamming, overlapping voices—and then abruptly disappeared.
Silence rolled across the room so quickly it was almost physical.
Remembering her previous disastrous entrance, Hannah clapped a hand over her eyes immediately. “Okay,” she muttered, already blushing, “I learned my lesson this time.”
No one laughed.
Heart pounding, she took a few careful steps inside, sneakers squeaking against the rubber floor. The air smelled like sweat, detergent, and melted ice.
She counted to five.
“Is everyone decent?”
“Yes, Miss Wells,” Coach Jensen said dryly. “I can personally guarantee everyone in this room is wearing pants.”
A startled sound escaped her before she lowered her hand.
Every head in the locker room was turned toward her.
Some looked confused. Some wary. A few openly irritated.
Logan stood near the back, still half out of his pads. The second their eyes met, concern flickered across his face. Hannah tried to smile at him, but it barely lifted the corners of her mouth.
“Hi, Coach,” she said. Her voice came out thinner than she wanted. “Sorry for barging in.”
“It’s becoming a recurring event,” Coach replied.
Heat rushed into her cheeks.
God. Of course he remembered the first time.
He folded his arms across his chest. “What can we do for you, Miss Wells?”
This was it.
Her throat tightened so badly she almost couldn’t swallow.
She looked around the room again—at Dean sitting rigidly on the bench, at Tucker frowning in confusion, at the freshmen hovering uncertainly near the back wall. Garrett wasn’t there. Somehow that made this harder.
“I…” Her fingers curled into the sleeves of her sweater. “I owe you all an explanation.”
The room went still again, confusion in the air.
“It’s about the Saint A’s game.”
That changed everything.
Tension snapped through the locker room like a live wire. Shoulders straightened. Expressions hardened. Coach Jensen’s jaw locked.
They thought she was here to excuse Garrett.
They thought there wasn’t an excuse.
“I know you’re all angry at him,” Hannah said quietly. “You should be. What happened hurt the team.” Her voice wavered for a second before she forced it steady again. “But you don’t know why it happened.”
No one interrupted her.
“I know it looked like Garrett just lost his temper. Like he threw everything away because he couldn’t control himself.” She glanced down at the floor, at the black scuff marks on the rubber matting. “But Aaron Delaney said something to him before that fight.”
Coach Jensen sighed softly. “Miss Wells—Garrett’s actions are his responsibility. You don’t need to come here and defend him.”
The words landed gently.
Still, Hannah felt anger spark hot beneath her skin.
“With all due respect, Coach,” she said, lifting her head, “I’m not defending him. I’m telling you the truth because Garrett never will.”
That got a reaction.
Dean’s eyes narrowed slightly. Tucker shifted awkwardly. Logan gave a small, grim nod, confirming it without words.
Of course Garrett hadn’t told them.
Hannah inhaled shakily.
“Delaney and I are from the same town. Same high school.” Her mouth went dry. “We have… history.”
The word tasted wrong.
Too small. Too clean.
She could feel the room listening now, really listening.
“And Delaney decided to use that history against me. Against Garrett.” Her voice snagged for a second.
"Hannah...I understand you feel this changes things and maybe even feel like this is your fault, but Garrett nearly beat Aaron Delaney to death over a girl, even if you are his girlfriend I cannot allow this."
"He raped me"
Silence.
Utter.
Devasting.
Silence.
“When I was 15, he drugged my drink and then raped me. Then his entire team lied in court and claimed I asked for it. That’s…what Delaney did”
Understanding didn’t arrive all at once.
It moved slowly across the room.
Like a storm rolling in.
Coach Jensen’s expression changed first. The irritation vanished from his face so abruptly it was almost frightening.
Then Dean went perfectly still.
Tucker looked like he might actually throw up.
One of the freshmen swore quietly under his breath.
And Logan—
Logan looked devastated.
Like he’d been holding onto anger for days only to realize it had been aimed at the wrong person the entire time.
“Hannah…” Coach began carefully, but she shook her head.
“No.” Her voice cracked. She pressed forward anyway. “You all deserve to know why he snapped.”
The memories clawed at her throat, sharp and ugly, but she forced the words out anyway.
“Garrett found out on the ice. Right there. Seconds before the fight.” She wrapped her arms around herself tightly, nails biting into her sleeves. “And then Delaney kept talking. He called me a lying slut. Told Garrett what happened between us.”
Nobody moved.
Nobody even breathed.
Hannah knew silence. As a music major, she understood how silence could carry meaning heavier than sound ever could.
This silence was unbearable.
“He didn’t attack Delaney because of hockey or because he could.” she whispered. “He attacked him because he realized what Delaney had done to me.”
Coach Jensen looked stricken.
Not angry anymore.
Stricken.
Like he’d spent days condemning Garrett only to discover the boy had exploded under the weight of something far uglier than a lost game.
Garrett wasn’t his father.
Garrett hadn’t hurt someone for power or pleasure or cruelty.
He’d lashed out because, for one terrible moment, rage had swallowed him whole.
And maybe part of him had wanted Delaney to hurt the way Hannah had hurt. Had wanted to give Hannah the only justice she was likely to receive.
“The NCAA probably won’t care,” Hannah said after a moment. “Maybe none of this changes the suspension. Maybe it shouldn’t.” She swallowed hard. “But Garrett didn’t throw your season away because he didn’t care about this team.”
She looked around the room one last time.
“He cared too much.”
Nobody argued with her.
Nobody could.
“And if you want someone to blame,” she continued softly, “blame me. Not Garrett.”
Logan’s face twisted immediately, like the suggestion itself offended him, but Hannah lifted a hand before he could speak.
“I should’ve warned him,” she admitted. “I had the chance before he went back on the ice, and I didn’t take it.” Guilt pressed heavy against her ribs, familiar and cruel. “I left him blindsided.”
“That is not your fault,” Dean said sharply.
The force in his voice startled her.
Hannah looked at him, and for the first time since walking in, she saw no anger directed at her anywhere in the room.
Only grief.
Only fury aimed elsewhere.
Coach Jensen finally stepped forward. “Hannah…”
Whatever apology he’d been about to offer died unfinished when she shook her head again.
“You can tell the NCAA,” she said quietly. “Use it however you need to. I don’t care anymore.”
Her hands were trembling now. She tucked them into the sleeves of her sweater before anyone noticed.
Then, before anyone could stop her, Hannah turned and walked back out of the locker room.
The corridor felt colder than before.
But lighter, too.
For years, Delaney had stolen pieces of her voice until she barely recognized herself anymore.
Garrett had given it back.