Page 107 of Cross Check Hearts

“Let’s go,” I urge, tightening my grip on his arm. “Now.”

Declan nods once, his lips pressed into a tight line as he turns away from Aaron, whose shoulders slump a bit. We move quickly down the hallway, finding a side exit so that we won’t have to weave our way through the crowd in the main space where the event is being held.

As we round the corner, I hear Aaron shout something crude behind us, but his voice fades as we push through the exit doors and step out into the crisp night air.

A sudden quiet envelops us, broken only by the sound of our breathing. Declan’s hand is warm and steady around mine as we walk briskly around the building and back to my car.

“Are you okay?” he asks, stopping when we reach the passenger side. His eyes search mine, worry etched across his features.

“I’m fine,” I say, my voice steadier than I would’ve expected. “Thanks to you.”

“I shouldn’t have lost control like that.” His thumb traces a gentle path across my knuckles, a stark contrast to the power I witnessed moments ago. “But when he said those things about you?—”

“I know.” I press my palm against his chest, feeling his heartbeat beneath my fingers. “Thank you for defending me. No one has ever done something like that for me before.”

His expression softens, one hand coming up to tuck a lock of wayward hair behind my ear.

“I’m probably going to get a lecture from Sawyer about this,” he says with a rueful smile. “He’s always telling us all to save the fights for the ice.” He tugs gently on the lock of hair, his eyes reflecting the lights in the parking lot. “But you know what? Standing up for you was worth whatever comes my way. You’re worth everything, hummingbird.”

Chapter46

Hannah

“Hannah, come in.” Henry Brooks, the dean of the law school, greets me with a stern expression as he opens his office door. I’ve been perched on the uncomfortable bench outside for what feels like forever, my nerves frayed despite my attempts to stay calm.

As expected, word about what happened between Declan and Aaron at the event spread like wildfire, and before the weekend was over, I had an email from Mr. Brooks requesting an “urgent” meeting to discuss what happened.

“Please, sit down,” Mr. Brooks directs, gesturing at the chair on the opposite side of his meticulously organized desk as he sinks down into his. Mr. Brooks looks exactly like the dean of a law school should—thin, balding, perpetually stressed out, and supremely unhappy—though at the moment, I can’t tell if that’s because of his job, me, or both.

I suppose if I had his job, dealing with half of the law school shenanigans that he does with his students, I’d probably look just as miserable.

He scrutinizes me over the gold rims of his bifocals with his hands resting under his chin as I sit, clearly sizing me up. “I’m sure I don’t need to tell you how absolutely unprofessional the behavior that occurred at the alumni mixer was, so I’m not going to focus on that. Do you have any idea how poorly this reflects on you, and by extension, the university?”

I stare back at him with my hands folded neatly in my lap, biting my tongue to keep my composure.

“Well, since you don’t seem to have an answer, let me tell you, this could affect your standing.”

I nod, but I already knew that—and honestly, it’s been a struggle for me to care about it as much as I probably should.

This entire situation feels so unfair, and the condescending way he’s talking to me stirs up all the frustration I’ve been containing all weekend. What I really want to say is that if their prized alumnus, Aaron, hadn’t been acting like such a complete jerk, then none of this would’ve happened. Where’shisemergency meeting? Why am I the one sitting here getting lectured? It’s yet another example of the double standards in this industry, of the ways the people who’ve clawed their way to the top will always close ranks to protect each other, and yet another sign that I don’t belong here.

“Fortunately,” Mr. Brooks continues, straightening a stack of papers on his desk, “Mr. Barnett has decided not to press charges.”

I maintain my neutral expression, although I can’t help feeling a flicker of amusement. Of course Aaron isn’t pressing charges—it would require him admitting in court that one punch from a hockey player laid him flat, which I know his ego wouldn’t be able to handle.

Sensing my apparent lack of attention, Mr. Brooks taps his fingers against his desk sharply. “We’ve let students go for less than this. We won’t be taking that measure with you, but this is going to make your life hell for the next few months. Do you understand me?” I hold his gaze steadily, and he huffs out a breath. “I’ll take that as a yes. The good news, if there is any in this absolute shit show, is that if you work your ass off, you can still do well and graduate with recommendations that should land you a job at a decent firm.”

I nod, offering up a stiff smile. My parents are probably going to be disappointed when they hear about this, if they haven’t already. Although it wasn’t what I wanted, I also can’t say I’m mad that it happened. Aaron said terrible things that night, but no one knows about any of that. The only story that the dean seems to have heard is that Declan punched Aaron, but anyone who knows Aaron should be able to guess that he did something to deserve it. And they’d be right.

“Are you listening?” Mr. Brooks snaps, yanking me back to the present.

“Yes, I’m sorry,” I say, wincing.

“Good.” He blows out a breath. “Then I guess we’re done here. But if you’ve heard even one word of what I’ve had to say, I sincerely hope you’ll take it to heart. You’re a fantastic student, Hannah, and I would hate to see you throw away your future over something like this.”

I stand up, gathering my bag. “Thank you for your time, Mr. Brooks. I appreciate your concern.”

Mr. Brooks sighs and waves a hand. “You’re dismissed.”

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