Page 125 of The Deal

She quickly backpedals. “No, I guess they’re not.”

I shovel a forkful of mashed potatoes and stuffing into my mouth.

My father’s cool gaze travels to Hannah. “How long have you been seeing my son?”

From the corner of my eye, I see her shift in discomfort. “A month.”

He nods, almost like he’s pleased to hear it. When he speaks again, I realize precisely what he’s pleased about. “It’s not serious, then.”

Hannah frowns.

I do, too, because I know what he’s thinking. No, what he’s hoping. That this thing with Hannah is just a fling. That it’ll fizzle out sooner rather than later and then I can go back to focusing exclusively on hockey.

But he’s wrong. Hell, I was wrong, too. I thought having a girlfriend would distract me from my goals and split my focus, but it hasn’t. I love being with Hannah, but I haven’t lost sight of hockey either. I’m still bringing it in practice, still smoking my opponents on the ice. This last month has shown me that I can have Hannah and hockey in my life, and give both of them the attention they deserve.

“Did Garrett tell you he’s planning on going pro after graduation?” my father asks.

Hannah nods in response.

“Once he signs with a team, his schedule will become even more hectic. I imagine yours will, too.” My father purses his lips. “Where do you see yourself after graduation? Broadway? Recording an album?”

“I haven’t decided yet,” she replies, reaching for her water glass.

I notice that her plate is empty. She’s finished all her food, but hasn’t asked for seconds. Neither have I, though I can’t deny that Cindy’s cooking is fucking fantastic. I haven’t eaten a turkey that juicy in years.

“Well, the music industry is a tough one to break into. Requires a lot of hard work and perseverance.” My father pauses. “And an incredible amount of focus.”

“I’m well aware of that.” Hannah’s lips form a tight line, as if she has a million more things to say but is forcing herself not to.

“Professional sports is the same way,” my dad says pointedly. “Requires that same level of focus. Distractions can be costly.” His head tips toward me. “Isn’t that right, son?”

I reach for Hannah’s hand and cover her knuckles with my palm. “Some distractions are worth it.”

His nostrils flare.

“Looks like everyone has finished eating,” Cindy blurts out. “How about some dessert?”

My stomach churns at the thought of spending even another second in this house. “Actually, Hannah and I have to go,” I say roughly. “The weather forecast called for snow tonight so we want to head back before the roads get bad.”

Cindy’s head swivels to the floor-to-ceiling window on the other side of the dining room. Beyond the glass, there isn’t a speck of white in the air or on the ground.

But God bless her, she doesn’t comment on the snow-free state of the street. If anything, she looks almost relieved that this uncomfortable evening is about to come to an end.

“I’ll clear the table,” Hannah offers.

Cindy nods. “Thanks, Hannah. I appreciate it.”

“Garrett.” My father scrapes his chair back. “A word.”

Then he walks out.

Fuck him and his fucking words. The bastard didn’t even thank his girlfriend for the lovely meal she prepared. I’m so goddamn sick of this man, but I swallow my anger and follow him out of the dining room.

“What do you want?” I demand once we enter his study. “And don’t bother ordering me to stay for dessert. I came home for Thanksgiving, we ate some turkey, and now I’m leaving.”

“I don’t give a shit about dessert. We need to talk about that girl.”

“That girl?” I laugh harshly. “You mean Hannah? Because she’s not just some girl. She’s my girlfriend.”