# Chapter 9: The Game, The Ghost, and the Girl in the Shadows
Hello everyone, it’s me again! How are you all doing? Today I will continue to walk with you and review Chapter 9 of "The Deal: Off Campus." This chapter is a collision of ice, old wounds, and new temptation. Garrett Graham dominates on the rink, but the moment he steps off it, his father’s shadow is waiting. Let’s dive in.
Greg Braxton is a beast. Six-five, two hundred and twenty pounds of pure power, with the kind of speed and precision that could land him an NHL contract one day—if the league can overlook how much time he spends in the sin bin. In the second period, Braxton has already taken three penalties, and one of them gives Logan a goal. Logan skates past the penalty box and gives Braxton a smug little wave. Big mistake. Now Braxton is back on the ice with an axe to grind, and Garrett is in his path.
Braxton slams Garrett into the plexiglass so hard it rattles every bone in his body. Somehow, Garrett still gets the pass off, shakes the cobwebs loose, and watches Tuck flick a wrist shot past St. Anthony’s goalie. The scoreboard lights up. The crowd groans and boos, but Garrett feeds off the energy anyway. Away games are never as exhilarating as home games, but he can survive on negative energy just as well.
When the buzzer ends the period, Briar heads into the locker room leading 2-0. Everyone is riding the high of the shutout, but Coach Jensen refuses to let them celebrate. He tears into Dean for letting number thirty-four toss him around, then lights up one of the sophomore defensemen for giving up breakaways. He reminds them about Logan’s hit at the start of the period and demands more physical play. No more pansy-ass hip checks. Hit them like they mean it.
Garrett and Logan exchange grins. Jensen is a hard-ass, but he is damn good at his job. He praises when it is deserved, but mostly he pushes them until they are better. Tuck notices the bruise already blooming on Garrett’s left side and gives him a sympathetic look. Braxton absolutely pummeled him. It is going to leave one hell of a mark. Garrett shrugs and says he will live. Then Coach claps his hands, and they are back on the ice.
As Garrett makes his way to the box, he can feel his father’s eyes on him. He does not look, because he already knows what he will find. Phil Graham, hockey legend and proud father—hunkered down in his usual seat at the top of the bleachers, Rangers cap pulled low, lips set in a tight line. St. Anthony’s campus is only an hour from Boston, but even if Garrett had been playing hours away during the snowstorm of the century, his old man would still be there. Phil Graham never misses a game.
But Garrett knows the truth. His father does not come to watch his son play. He comes to watch an extension of himself. Sometimes Garrett wonders what would have happened if he had sucked. What if he could not skate or shoot? What if he had been a scrawny kid with the coordination of a Kleenex box? What if he had loved art or music or chemical engineering instead of hockey? Phil probably would have had a coronary—or convinced Garrett’s mother to give him up for adoption. The bitterness tastes acrid in Garrett’s throat. He reminds himself: block him out. Phil Graham is not important. He is not here. He stopped being Garrett’s father a long time ago. But the mantra is not foolproof. Garrett can block him out. He can tell himself Phil does not matter. But Phil is here. He is always here, damn it.
The third period is intense. St. Anthony’s plays for their lives, desperate to avoid being shut out. Simms is under attack from the first whistle, while Logan and Hollis scramble to hold off St. A’s starting line. Sweat drips down Garrett’s face and neck as his linemen—Tuck and a senior nicknamed Birdie—go on the offensive. St. Anthony’s defense is a joke. Their D-men bank on their forwards to score and their goalie to stop the shots they ineptly let into their zone. Logan tangles with Braxton behind the net and comes out victorious. His pass connects with Birdie, who is lightning fast as he hurtles toward the blue line. Birdie flips the puck to Tucker, and the three of them fly into enemy territory on an odd-man rush. The defensemen do not know what hit them.
The puck flies in Garrett’s direction, and the roar of the crowd pulses in his blood. Braxton comes tearing down the ice with Garrett in his sights, but Garrett is not stupid. He unloads the puck to Tuck, hip-checking Braxton as his teammate dekes out the goalie, fakes a shot, then slaps it back to Garrett for the one-timer. Garrett’s shot whizzes into the net, and the clock runs down. Briar beats St. Anthony’s 3-0. Even Coach is in good spirits as they file into the locker room. They shut out the other team, stopped the beast that is Braxton, and added a second win to their record. It is still early in the season, but they are all seeing championship stars in their eyes.
Then Logan flops down on the bench beside Garrett and bends over to unlace his skates. “So what’s the deal with the tutor?” His tone is casual as hell, but Garrett knows him well enough to hear what is underneath. Wellsy? What about her? Is she single? The question catches Garrett off guard. Logan usually gravitates toward girls who are rail-thin and sweeter than sugar. Hannah, with her endless curves and total smartassness, does not fit either bill. Garrett says yes, warily, and asks why. Logan shrugs, all casual again. She’s hot. Then he pauses. “You tapping that?” Garrett says no, and you won’t be either. She’s got her sights on some douchebag. They together? Naah. Doesn’t that make her fair game?
Garrett stiffens, just slightly, and he does not think Logan notices. Luckily, Kenny Simms, their wizard of a goalie, wanders over and puts an end to the conversation. Garrett is not sure why he is suddenly on edge. He is not into Hannah in that way, but the idea of her and Logan hooking up makes him uneasy. Maybe because he knows what a slut Logan can be. He cannot count the times he has seen a chick do a walk of shame out of Logan’s bedroom. It pisses him off to picture Hannah sneaking out of Logan’s room with sex-tousled hair and swollen lips. Garrett did not expect it to happen, but he kinda likes her. She keeps him on his toes. And last night, when he heard her sing—shi-it. He has heard the words pitch and tone thrown around on American Idol, but he does not know squat about the technical aspects of singing. What he does know is that Hannah’s throaty voice gave him fucking chills.
He pushes all thoughts of Hannah from his head as he hits the showers. Everyone else is riding the victory high, but this is the part of the night Garrett dreads. Win or lose, he knows his father will be waiting in the parking lot when the team heads for the bus. He leaves the arena with damp hair and his hockey bag slung over his shoulder. Sure enough, the old man is there, standing near a row of cars, down jacket zipped to his collar, cap shielding his eyes. Logan and Birdie flank Garrett, crowing about the win, but Birdie stops in his tracks when he spots Phil. “You gonna say hello?” he murmurs. Garrett does not miss the eager note in his voice. His teammates cannot understand why he does not shout to the whole world that his father is Phil Graham. They think Phil is a god, which apparently makes Garrett a demigod. When Garrett first came to Briar, they used to harass him for autographs, but he fed them a line about his father being wicked private, and thankfully they have stopped badgering him.
“Nope,” Garrett says. He keeps walking toward the bus, turning his head just as he passes the old man. Their eyes lock for a moment. Phil nods at him. One little nod. Then he turns away and lumbers toward his shiny silver SUV. It is the same old routine. If they win, Garrett gets a nod. If they lose, he gets nothing. When Garrett was younger, Phil would at least put on a fatherly show of support after a loss—a bullshit smile of encouragement or a consolatory pat on the back if anyone happened to be looking. But the moment they were alone, the proverbial gloves came off.
Garrett climbs onto the bus with his teammates and breathes a sigh of relief when the driver pulls out of the lot, leaving his father in the rearview mirror. Then a new thought hits him. Depending on how the Ethics exam goes, he might not even be playing next weekend. The old man definitely will not be happy about that. Good thing Garrett does not give a shit what he thinks.
**Reader’s Impressions & Star Rating**
This chapter is a sharp, emotional snapshot of who Garrett Graham is beneath the jersey. The hockey action crackles—Braxton’s violence, Logan’s smug wave, the odd-man rush, the one-timer—but the real damage happens in the quiet spaces. Phil Graham’s single nod says more than a hundred speeches. And the sudden jealousy Garrett feels when Logan asks about Hannah is deliciously complicated. He claims he is not into her, but his reaction tells a different story. The singing memory, the protectiveness, the unease—it all plants seeds that are clearly going to grow.
⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ Rating: 4.8 / 5 Stars
**Next Chapter Prediction**
Next, the Ethics exam will loom large, and Garrett will have to face Hannah in a tutor session that is charged with everything he refuses to admit. Logan’s sudden interest in Hannah will make Garrett territorial, even if he insists he has no claim on her. Meanwhile, Phil Graham’s disappointment about possible ineligibility could push Garrett toward a reckless choice—or force him to actually take his future seriously. Expect tension, banter, and one very inconvenient attraction.
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