The Graham Effect (Campus Diaries, #1)

by Elle Kennedy

I don’t owe her this conversation. I owe her nothing. Ryder’s voice fills my head, reminding me I’m allowed to feel what I feel, even if it’s hatred.

Gigi must have used the key I gave her. I find her on the couch. Sitting there silently, staring at an action movie on the TV. “Hey, how long have you been here?” I say from the doorway. “Why didn’t you text to say you were coming over?” “My phone’s dead.” Her face is devoid of emotion. Concern flickers through me.

And I’m utterly helpless. All I can do is hold her as tight as I can while she shakes in my arms. “It’s okay, let it out,” I urge. I don’t know how long she cries for, but her voice is hoarse by the time she settles. Her eyes are swollen and red, and my heart breaks for her. I’m so goddamn in love with this woman.

“Or maybe I’ll never make the team.” She starts to cry again, and although it kills me to make it worse, we promised each other we’d always be honest. “Maybe you won’t,” I agree softly. She rears back, releasing a cross between a laugh and a wheeze. “You are so bad at this.” “Maybe you won’t ever make the team,” I repeat. “Doesn’t change the fact that you’re the single greatest player in women’s college hockey right now. Fairlee said so himself. He’s not looking at stats, because if he was, you’d be on that roster in a heartbeat.”

“Nobody likes failure, G. But I maintain that this isn’t failure. This is just one moment in time.” “A moment in time,” she echoes weakly. “Yes, and right now, in this moment, you’re down. But that’s okay because I’m here to lift you up.” “Always?” she whispers, peering at me with those big gray eyes. “Always. You fall, I pick you up. Always.”

“Do you feel like coming to Vegas with me?” “Are you asking me to marry you?” I inquire politely. “No, I’m asking you to come to Vegas and watch us play. My parents will be there. My brother too.” “Gee, great. Can’t wait to see them.” She lightly punches me in the arm. “Come on. They’ve warmed up to you a lot.” “Only your mom.” In fact, Hannah Graham is pretty much my best friend now.

“I don’t feel sorry for you at all. Now you know how it feels to be around a prickly asshole who doesn’t want to make conversation with you.” “I wasn’t that bad.” “You were worse. You communicated exclusively in shrugs. Infuriating jackass.”

My gaze seeks out Gigi, landing on the back of her jersey. #44. Her long dark ponytail is sticking out of her helmet.

“You can’t go out there,” he insists, getting in my face again. A fucking stampede wouldn’t be able to stop me from getting to Gigi. “Like hell I can’t,” I growl. And then I give him another firm shove, forcibly moving him out of my way. “That’s my wife out there.”

“So. Um. Yeah. We got married.” You can hear a pin drop in the women’s locker room. The team doctor and EMTs just left, satisfied I’m in no danger of a concussion.

Ryder’s still hovering over me, running an agitated hand over my forehead because he doesn’t believe I didn’t hit my head. It’s cute. I touch his cheek in reassurance, and the moment my fingers connect with his skin, the anxiety leaves his eyes. I have that power over him, and he has the same power over me.

“We know exactly what we’re getting into. It’s not going to be perfect. We’re going to run into issues. Life’s going to hit us hard from all directions, all the time. But we’re choosing to do life together. We went into this with our eyes wide open.”

I don’t even remember which one of us suggested we tie the knot. I think it might have been me? I just remember walking hand in hand down the Strip that first night in Vegas and thinking there’s nobody else I want to hold hands with for the rest of my life. And for some inexplicable reason, Gigi agreed.

“Married,” her mom says with an amused look. “Married,” I confirm. It’s pretty funny when you think about it. We haven’t even been together a year. “I know you think we’re crazy,” I say, shrugging. “Actually, no. I don’t. I know my daughter. She doesn’t enter into things lightly. And I think I’m starting to know you too. You’re not impulsive.” “No,” I agree. I’m the opposite, in fact. Calculated. Perpetually skeptical of people who jump first and think later.

“That’s what I figured.” She squeezes my hands. “And that’s why I came over. I wanted you to know that I’m here for you. I mean it, Luke. I have no doubt you’ll be in our lives for a long time to come, and I’m not at all bothered by that.”

I drag my forearm across my face, wiping my eyes with my sleeve. Before I can stop her, Gigi’s mom pulls me in for a tight hug and now I’m crying in her arms like a little kid. This is so fucking embarrassing. She reaches up and smooths a lock of hair away from my forehead, unfazed by my tears. “All I was trying to say is, you’re family now. I know I’m not your real mom, but I think I did pretty well with my own kids.” “You did,” I say thickly.

“So if you ever need anything, I’m a call or text away. I’ll always be here for you.”

I said I’d try. Because one, he’s my idol. And two, he’s now my father-in-law. But…she’s my wife. Wife.

WYATT: Hurt my sister and I’ll hurt you. You feel me, Bill? ME: Bill? WYATT: Brother-in-law. Tried to write BIL but autocorrect didn’t like it. So you’re Bill now. Don’t hurt her and we’ll be good. ME: I won’t, and cool.

WYATT: Welcome to the family. I figure we need to make an effort to get along. Now that we’re stuck with you forever. ME: Thanks, Bill.

I tip my head at him, curious. “Would you have given it?” “No.” A snort slips out. “Then, better ask forgiveness than permission, right? Because I would’ve married her either way. I—” My jaw drops. “Holy shit.”

“The nature sounds guy your daughter is obsessed with. Come on, we need to get in line.” He’s dumbfounded. “Why?” “Because Gigi loves him, and I want to get her a signed photo. I’d get the CD too, but she probably already has this track downloaded.”

The line moves slowly, so I’m still standing there when he returns with two Styrofoam cups. He hands me one. “Black okay?” “Great, thanks.” He’s staring at me again. “What?” I mutter. “Nothing,” he says, but he keeps staring. The line edges closer. Now I can hear what Grebbs is saying to the woman in front of him. She’s in her fifties, which seems like the appropriate age to be waiting for an autograph from this man.

I’m in front of Gigi’s aural idol, feeling out of place and, frankly, stupid. But Garrett nudges me, and I step forward. “Uh. Hi. Mr. Grebbs. Huge fan.” From the corner of my eye, I see Garrett pressing his lips together to stop a laugh.

“Well, really, it’s my wife who’s the fan. She has all your…soundscapes.” Garrett coughs into his hand. “Seriously, she listens to you religiously. In the car, on her runs, when she’s meditating.” “How wonderful.” Dan Grebbs has kind eyes. There’s something as soothing about him as his sounds. And I will never, ever tell Gigi I just thought of his sounds as soothing. She will use that against me forever. “What is your wife’s name, young man?” “Gigi.” I spell it for him.

“Quit looking at me like that,” I grumble. “I know it’s stupid.” He just sighs, shaking his head to himself. “You really love her.” “Till the day I die,” I say simply.

“No, I know what you mean.” “She’s my little girl. You’ll understand what that means one day, if you two ever have kids. If you have a daughter.” He keeps talking as we make our way down the block toward the hotel. “I wish she’d just let me explain things.” “She will. Eventually.” He gives a wry laugh. “That’s not very encouraging.” “If you want your own personal cheerleader, I ain’t your man.” “I figured.” “I will talk to her again on your behalf, though. I don’t think anything good comes out of you two not talking⁠—”

“You okay?” he says brusquely. I offer a faint smile. “You really care if I am?” “I do. Also…” Case lets out a breath. “I never thought I’d say this in my life, but… I sort of miss you.” “Bullshit.”

He snickers. “But I’ll get over it,” he says, shrugging. “You’re not a bad guy, Luke. I know you didn’t do this on purpose.” “I didn’t.” I sigh too. “Can’t help who you fall for.” “No. You can’t.” He sticks out his hand. “We’re good if you want.” “I want.”

Being with Gigi has taught me that sometimes you simply need to let things out, so I shrug, moving close to the mic again. “He said my mom deserved to die and that my father should’ve shot me in the head too.”

I don’t regret it. Even now, having to endure a bunch of strangers asking me about it in a press conference, I don’t regret wiring that asshole’s jaw shut. And I’m going to enjoy every second of beating him tonight.

Owen McKay: You know, Josh, I sort of resent that question. Briar University just won the National Championship. Shouldn’t that be what we’re focusing on right now? What we’re celebrating? Why don’t you ask me how it feels knowing my little brother scored the winning goal in the Frozen Four? Because I’ll tell you—it felt damn good.

As for me, I’ve been making a diligent effort to avoid anything related to my dad. I’m still so mad. Except I’m not mad. I’m devastated. “You were right,” Dad says. “He’s a good guy.”

“I was hurt.” “Hurt,” I echo, and experience a flicker of guilt. I don’t like the idea that I hurt him. “I always pictured myself walking you down the aisle.” The admission grips my heart and squeezes it tight. Damn it. Now I know why my mom can never stay mad at him. It’s because he goes around saying things like that. “Let’s be real,” he continues. “Your brother’s never getting married⁠—” “Fuckboy till the day he dies,” I agree. “But I thought I had a shot with you. You’ve never been super girly, but I heard you and your mom talking about wedding dresses before.

You’d look beautiful in whatever you chose, though. I was looking forward to seeing you in it. Walking you down the aisle. Dancing with you at your wedding.” He looks over, hopeful. “I know you already tied the knot, but you should totally consider having a wedding. Your aunt Summer would kill to plan it for you, you know that.” I snicker quietly. “You’d have to talk to Ryder about that. The man has a problem sharing what he had for dinner—you think he’s going to stand in front of hundreds of people and recite his vows? Because we both know you’re not keeping that wedding guest list below five hundred.” “I can’t help that I have friends. Jeez.”

“And this is my son-in-law, Luke.” It amazes me how in less than a month, Dad can now say the word son-in-law with such ease, as if Ryder’s been part of the family for years.

Once Belov wanders away, Ryder stares at my dad, who says, “What?” “Was that your way of giving me the coaching slot at Hockey Kings?” “Oh, do I need to do an official ask? I just assumed you’d say yes.” Wyatt snorts.

And ironically, it’s not my reaction he needs to worry about. He just called me immature and graceless in front of my asshole husband, my asshole brother, and my asshole father. That’s bad enough. But it’s the mama bear he triggered. “I don’t think so, Brad,” my mother barks in a sharp voice. “With all due respect—and I do respect you—don’t try to parent my kid. Go parent your own. She’s the one with issues that need working through.”

“We just kindly ask you don’t talk to our daughter about things you know nothing about.”

Sighing, I glance at my parents. “You didn’t have to tell him what Emma did. I feel—” I stop, remembering everything Ryder advised me. Then I shrug, smiling at my husband. “Actually, no. I don’t feel bad. She made her bed.” Ryder grins. “That’s my girl.”

That’s not a sentiment I’m used to expressing. Or experiencing. But it is. I’ve got my health, my friends, my brother. My wife. Neither of us have any idea what the future holds. Nobody does. But I can’t imagine any future with Gigi not being bright.