#hannah

The tires of Logan’s truck tore into the gravel of the driveway, kicking up a cloud of dust as he braked hard into his usual spot. He cut the engine, but the sudden silence inside the truck did absolutely nothing to calm the suffocating frustration vibrating in his chest. Shoving his way out, he slammed the truck door shut behind him with a heavy, metallic bang that echoed across the yard.

He stormed up the porch steps and pushed through the front door of the hockey house, his jaw clenched so tightly it ached.

Walking straight into the kitchen, he dropped his keys onto the granite island. They hit the surface with a sharp, loud clatter—not thrown, but heavy enough to instantly kill the casual chatter in the room.

"Whoa, everything alright, dude?" Tucker asked, pausing with a wooden spoon in hand.

The kitchen was warm, smelling of garlic and simmering marinara sauce. Garrett was standing by the stove, while Dean leaned against the counter, a glass of water in hand. The calm, familial atmosphere of the room felt completely at odds with the frantic, wounded energy radiating off Logan.

"Why the hell is she being like that?!" Logan burst out, running a hand over his face and through his hair in pure frustration. He began to pace a short, tense line between the fridge and the island, his shoulders tightly coiled.

Garrett set down the knife he was using to chop vegetables, exchanging a heavy, knowing look with Dean before looking up. An underlying edge of irritation was already creeping into Garrett's expression. "You found y/n?"

"Yeah, I found her. She was sitting at Malone's by herself," Logan said, his voice cracking slightly with a mix of disbelief and a sharp, defensive edge. "And she was just so cold, man. I skipped the second half of practice for her. I literally went to her usual library spot, went to Havenport lounge, her usual spots - because she wouldn't answer her phone, and when I finally get there, she barely even looked at me."

“And you two - won’t tell me shit.” He pointed at Hannah and Allie, who widened their eyes but stayed silent. “Is there something wrong - is her dad contacting her again or something?” 

Everyone was silent. 

Hannah felt so bad for Logan, it’s like an elephant in the room that everyone sees but him. She reached out her hand to comfort him, “No, Logan. Her dad isn’t, it’s just that we don’t even know what to tell you,” she sighed. 

"What do you mean? She told me to leave her alone," Logan said, the words clearly stinging him deeper than he wanted to admit. He looked over at Garrett, his eyes wide with a desperate, furious confusion. "Like I was a total stranger. She refused to come to dinner. I don't get it. What the hell did I do? Why is she completely freezing me out?"

Garrett gripped the edge of the stove, an annoyed, incredibly tense breath escaping his nose. He looked at Logan— he thought Logan was being a total idiot, entirely blind to the way you loved him, and even more blind to his own buried feelings for you. Sure he was with Grace but he doesn’t act like this for anyone else other than you. There’s no one he’s this worried about or thinks about more than you. 

But Garrett wasn’t trying to betray you.

"Maybe she just wants to be by herself. She will figure it out herself, just leave her alone and let her cool off." He continued prepping. 

"Leave her alone?" Logan repeated, looking at Garrett like he'd lost his mind. "She's my best friend, Garrett. I'm not just going to let her treat me like garbage and walk away.”

Garrett let out a harsh, cynical breath, shaking his head as he picked up a towel to wipe his hands. He looked at Logan, completely exasperated by his roommate's sheer density. "Look, just drop it for tonight. I'll text her. I'll talk to her later and check in."

The words hit Logan like a physical slap.

A sharp, ugly wave of jealousy and indignation flared up in his chest, making him look at Garrett with narrow, peeved eyes. "You'll talk to her?" Logan scoffed, his voice dripping with sudden bitterness. "What makes you think she’s going to answer you?"

Garrett just stared at him. He thought Logan was acting childish. 

It felt like a direct blow to his ego, a territorial instinct kicking in before he could even stop it. The idea that Garrett thought he could get through to you more than him was insulting.

"I know her better than anyone in this house, Garrett," Logan muttered, his jaw tight as he stared his captain down. "I know her better than you. If she’s pissed off, she talks to me. She always talks to me."

"Yeah, well, clearly not today," Dean said under his breath from the counter, taking a slow sip of his water.

Garrett put down the knife he was using to chop the vegetables for Tucker’s dish. “Alright, outside Logan,” everyone stared. 

————————

He stormed out to the porch through the heavy glass door and Logan followed him immediately, the sliding door shutting behind them with a sharp click, cutting off the warmth of the kitchen and the watchful eyes of Allie, Hannah, Dean and Tucker. 

Logan was fuming. “What? Did you guys fuck? Is that what everyone’s not telling me? You going to tell me you guys hooked up or something and she’s avoiding us all together or she’s feeling ashamed to tell me?” Logan asks in an accusatory tone, grasping at straws—making things up because he has absolutely no idea.

Garrett snapped to look at him, the irritation on his face had hardened into something much heavier. “You fucking serious right now?!”

He took a step forward, invading Logan's space. "You think this is about me and her having some cheap hookup? You think she’d freeze all of us out over that?"

He let out a harsh, humorless laugh that cut right through the chilly night air.

"I’d never do that to Hannah.” Garrett said, poking a firm finger into Logan’s chest. "Use that pretty fucking brain of yours. She’s hiding because of you. Because while you've been busy playing this oblivious, protective guy best friend routine and making up wild theories, you’re blind to her feelings - don’t act like you don’t know." Garrett scoffed.

Logan blinked, he was silent because he couldn’t lie that he didn’t have an idea of what Garrett was talking about. Logan knew how he used to feel about you, when he first met you - he wanted you, he had been trying so desperately to ignore any of those feelings since he thought you’d never want to settle for him.

Garrett stood in front of Logan, the height difference wasn't much, but right now, Garrett looked massive, fueled by a protective fury he’d been suppressing every silent smoke sesh you and him had and he had to watch you be so down. He looked at Logan—really looked at him—at the genuine confusion and desperation in his friend's eyes, and felt a wave of pure exhaustion.

"You really don't get it, do you?" Garrett said softly. "You are so blinded by your own need to keep her by your side that you refuse to see what you're doing to her."

"Doing to her? I'm not doing anything to her!" Logan defended, his voice cracking slightly. "I care about her. That’s it. I care about her, and I want to make sure she’s okay."

"And what about Grace, Logan?"

The mention of the name hung in the air like a sudden drop in temperature. Logan stiffened, his mouth opening slightly before closing again.

"Grace has nothing to do with this," Logan said, though the conviction had leaked out of his voice, replaced by a defensive edge.

Garrett took a step forward, invading Logan’s space, his eyes boring into him.

"You sure about that?" Garrett challenged, a lethal edge slicing through his tone.

He’s going to lay it all out there. This had to stop. “Logan, does Grace know you text Allie and Hannah to make sure y/n gets home safe from her evening class? Does Grace know that you sat in your car with y/n three weeks ago after your brother told you your mom went back to rehab? Does Grace know you’ve been fixing y/n’s dad’s car for free every three months and telling him not to talk to her - without telling her? Does she know you write in every single one of y/n’s finals in your calendar - just so you can wish her good luck?”

Logan flinched as if he’d been physically struck. His mouth opened, but no sound came out. The blood drained from his face, leaving him pale under the porch light. He opened his hands, closing them into fists, looking suddenly small.

"How... how do you know about…th?" Logan whispered.

"Because I’m not a fucking idiot." Garrett hissed, stepping even closer, his finger hovering inches from Logan's chest. 

"You have a girlfriend, Logan. But you liked y/n the moment you met her. You had feelings for her, you said that. Don’t even lie to me right now."

"It's not like that. I’m over her, I told you. I don’t- Gar, it’s not-“ Logan stammered, his eyes darting away, looking wildly around the empty yard as if looking for an escape. "I'm just... I'm just trying to be a good guy. Her dad's transmission was shot, he couldn't afford—"

"Fuck off man!" Garrett roared, the sudden volume making Logan jump. "Stop lying to yourself. You string her along. Constantly. You know you do. You keep pulling her back in. Every time she takes a step away, you show up with a toolbox, or a text message, or a 'good luck' call, reminding her exactly what she can't have.”

Logan opened his mouth to defend himself, but the words seemed to catch in his throat. He looked down at the extra key on his keychain—the one that fit y/n's front door, the one he’d had for two years after you had an anaphylactic allergic reaction - Logan had demanded you hand over the spare keys just in case anything ever were to happen and never given back. Logan had only told Garrett about his feelings for you two years ago - but you weren’t ready for anything then. So he moved on, and you both were hooking up with other people. You’d never want him, he thought. 

"You want to talk about how you're just 'being a good guy'?" Garrett asked, his voice dropping into a lethal, quiet rhythm. 

“Logan, I’ve never seen you be so worried about literally anyone else. You always think about her, you think to get her an extra coffee or cookie when we go to Lucky’s with Hannah, you drop anything to drive her, you skip practice because you needed to find her to ease your mind, and when anything is ever wrong in your life the only person you want to talk about that stuff is - is with y/n. Don’t you think that’s odd and I don’t know, Logan? Fucking insane? considering you have a girlfriend?”

Logan flinched, his jaw tightening so hard a vein throbbed at his temple. "She’s like-my family. She knows me, I know her. We talk about these hard things okay? It’s just what we do, I mean, what we did. And sure I-I did want to be with her, but that was before. It’s done now."

“Yeah okay. Keep lying to yourself bud. Are you done playing house with two different girls Logan? Or you’re not ready to face yourself yet?” Garrett spat. He’d always defend you. A hundred fucking life times - he’d defend you. You were his family. And he was fucking sick and tired of you crying because of John Logan.

“You love Grace? Sure. Fine. Then go be with Grace - but you have to let y/n go. Stop stringing her along. It’s killing her,” he scolded Logan.