“I see the way he looks at you, and I don’t like it. And I certainly don’t like that you’ve divided his attention. Which is why I’ve decided you’re no longer going to be seeing my son.”

I can’t stop a laugh of disbelief. “With all due respect, sir, but that’s not your decision to make.”

“You’re right. It’s going to be your decision.”

My stomach lurches. “What does that mean?”

“It means you’re going to break up with my son.”

I gape at him. “Um…no. I’m sorry, but no.”

“I thought you’d say that. It’s all right. I’m confident I can change your mind.” Those cold, gray eyes bore into my face. “Do you care about Garrett?”

“Of course I do.” My voice cracks. “I love him.”

The confession brings a flash of annoyance to his eyes. He studies my face, then makes a derisive sound. “I believe you mean that.” He shrugs dismissively. “But that just means you want him to be happy, don’t you, Hannah? You want him to succeed.”

I have no idea where he’s going with this, but I know that I hate him for it.

“Do you want to know why he’s succeeding right now? What enables him to do that?” Mr. Graham smirks. “It’s because of me. Because my signature is on the tuition checks I send to Briar. He goes to school because of me. He buys his textbooks and pays for his booze because of me. His car? Insurance? Who do you think makes the payments for that? And his gear? The boy doesn’t even have a job—how do you think he’s able to live? Because of me.”

I feel sick. Because now I do know where he’s going.

“I generously allow him these luxuries because I know his goals align with mine. I know what he wants to achieve, and I know he’s capable of achieving it.” His jaw hardens. “But we’ve hit a little speed bump, haven’t we?”

He gives me a pointed stare, and yep, I’m the speed bump.

“So this is what’s going to happen.” His tone is deceptively pleasant. Garrett is right. This man is a monster. “You’re going to break up with my son. You won’t see him anymore, you won’t remain friends with him. This will be a clean break with absolutely no further contact. Do you understand?”

“Or what?” I whisper, because I need to hear him say it.

“Or I cut the boy off.” He shrugs. “Bye-bye tuition and books and cars and food. Is that what you want, Hannah?”

My brain snaps into overtime, rapidly running over my options. I’m not about to let some asshole blackmail me into ending things with Garrett, not when there are clearly other solutions available to us.

But I haven’t given Phil Graham enough credit, because apparently he’s not just a jerk, but a mind reader.

“You’re considering what will happen if you say no?” he guesses. “Trying to think of a way you can still be with Garrett without him losing everything he’s worked so hard for?” He chuckles. “Well, let’s see, shall we? He can always apply for financial aid.”

I silently curse him for raising the idea that had just entered my mind.

“But wait, he didn’t qualify for financial aid.” Graham looks like he might actually be enjoying himself. “When your family’s income is as substantial as ours, schools don’t give you money, Hannah. Believe me, Garrett applied. Briar turned him down on the spot.”

Shit.

“A bank loan?” Garrett’s father suggests. “Well, that’s hard to get approved for when you have no credit or assets.”

My brain scrambles to keep up. Garrett must have credit, though. Some kind of income. He told me he works during the summer.

But Mr. Graham is like a sniper, shooting down every thought that enters my head.

“He gets paid in cash for his construction work. What a pity, huh? No record of income, no credit, not needy enough to warrant help from Briar.” He tsks with his tongue and I almost smack him in the face. “So where does that leave us? Oh, right, the other option you’re considering. My son will find a job and pay for his own education and expenses.”

Yep, that idea has also occurred to me.

“Do you know how much an Ivy League education costs? Do you think he can pay that kind of tuition working part-time?” Garrett’s father shakes his head. “No, he’ll have to work full-time in order to do that. He might be able to keep attending school, but he’ll have to drop hockey, won’t he? And how happy will he be then?” His smile chills me to the bone. “Or let’s assume he can juggle it all—full-time job, school, and hockey…there won’t be much time left for you, will there, Hannah?”

Which is exactly what he wants.

I feel like I might throw up. I know he’s not fucking around. He will cut Garrett off if I don’t do what he says.

I also know that if Garrett found out about his father’s threat, he’d tell him to fuck right off. He’d pick me over the money, but that only makes me sicker, because Mr. Graham is right. Garrett would have to drop out or work his ass off, which either means no hockey altogether, or no time to focus on hockey. And I want him to focus on it, damn it. It’s his dream.

My mind continues to spin.

If I break up with Garrett, Mr. Graham wins.

If I don’t break up with Garrett, Mr. Graham still wins.

Tears well up in my eyes. “He’s your son…” I choke on the words. “How can you be so cruel?”