I don’t understand his weird-ass reaction, and it’s making me uneasy. “You would have told me that you didn’t care if your father cut you off, because you’re not going to let him control you, or us.”
Garrett nods. “Yup, you’re on track so far. What else?”
“Then you would have said you care about me more than you care about his stupid money.”
“Yup.”
“And you would have let him cut you off.”
“Right again.”
My stomach lurches. “He said you aren’t eligible for financial aid, and that you wouldn’t be able to get a bank loan.”
Garrett nods again. “Both true.”
“You would have had to clean out your savings account to pay for next term’s tuition, and…and then what? We both know you can’t afford rent and expenses and car payments when you’re not working, so that means you would need to get a job and—”
“I’m gonna stop you there, baby.” The smile he gives me is infinitely tender. “So…let’s back up. I let my father cut me off. Ask me what I would’ve said next.”
I bite the inside of my cheek. A little too hard, so I soothe the sting with my tongue. “What?”
Garrett leans closer and sweeps his fingertips over my cheek. “I would’ve said, Don’t worry, babe, I’m turning twenty-one in a few weeks, and my grandparents left me a trust fund that I can access on January 2nd.”
I suck in a shocked breath. “Wait—what?”
He lightly pinches my bottom lip, shaking his head in frustration. “My grandparents left me an inheritance, Hannah. My dad didn’t know about it because my mom signed all the papers behind his back. Gran and Gramps hated the old bastard—they really fucking hated him—and they saw how controlling he was when it came to me and hockey. They were afraid he might try to access the trust and do whatever he wanted with the funds, so they made sure I was taken care of. They left me enough money to pay my father back for everything he’s ever paid for. Enough to pay for the rest of my education, and all my expenses, and probably enough to sustain me for a few years once I graduate.”
My mind reels. I’m having trouble processing the information. “Really?”
“Really,” he confirms.
As the significance of what he’s just told me sinks in, I experience a flood of pure horror. Sweet baby Jesus. Is he telling me I broke up with him for no reason?
Garrett sees my expression and chuckles. “I bet you feel pretty stupid, huh?”
My mouth falls open, but I can’t formulate any words. I can’t believe… I’m so… God, he’s right. I’m so fucking stupid.
“I was trying to do the right thing.” I moan miserably. “I know how important hockey is to you. I didn’t want you to lose that.”
He sighs again. “I know, and trust me, that’s the only reason I’m not pissed off at you right now. I mean, I’m annoyed to shit that you didn’t just talk to me about it, but I understand why you didn’t.” His eyes flash. “That asshole had no right to do that. I swear, I’m going to—” He stops and puffs out a breath. “Actually, I’m going to do absolutely nothing. Not worth my time and energy, remember?”
“Does he know about the trust fund now?”
A triumphant gleam enters his eyes. “Oh, he knows. My grandparents’ executor couriered him a check yesterday. I estimated what I owed him and threw some extra cash on top of it, and he called last night and yelled at me for about twenty minutes before I hung up on him.” Garrett’s tone goes serious. “Oh, and there’s something else you should know—Cindy dumped his ass.”
Shock and relief war inside me. “Really?”
“Yup. Apparently she packed her bags a week after Thanksgiving and never looked back. That was another reason he was so pissed off on the phone. He thinks we said something to make her leave.” Garrett’s cheeks hollow in anger. “Son of a bitch still can’t take responsibility for anything he does. He can’t fathom how it might be his fault that she left.”
My head continues to spin. I’m happy Cindy extricated herself from that abusive relationship, but I’m not happy about the month Garrett and I were apart. I’m not happy that I allowed Phil Graham to scare me into giving up the guy I love.
“I’m sorry,” I say softly. “I’m so sorry, Garrett. For everything.”
He reaches for my hand. “Yeah, me too.”
“Don’t you dare apologize. You have nothing to be sorry about. I’m the one who tried to be all heroic and broke up with you for your own good.” I groan. “God, I can’t even be selfless without screwing it up.”
He snickers. “It’s okay. At least you’re hot. And don’t get me started on your stripper tits.”
I squeak when he suddenly cups my breasts over my sweater and gives them a hearty squeeze.
He makes a contented little noise as he rubs his palms over my quickly hardening nipples. “Oh, I’ve missed these. You don’t know how fucking much.”
A laugh flies out. “Seriously? You’re going straight to second base when we haven’t even officially gotten back together?”
His lips latch onto my neck, and his tongue darts out for a teasing lick. “As far as I’m concerned, we were never broken up.” Then he nibbles on my earlobe, eliciting a flurry of shivers. “So the way I see it, we could hug and kiss and cry, which will take about, what, twenty minutes? And then twenty more minutes where I forgive you and you vow your undying love to me. Maybe ten minutes of you giving me head to make up for all the time we’ve lost—”