Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Ice hockey was full of away games and days spent on the road. Given she worked from home and so that she didn’t feel like she was married to a ghost, Hannah accompanied Garrett for a lot of them.

That meant she’d become intimately acquainted with hotel rooms: large ones and small ones, king-sized canopy beds or twin-sized beds pushed together, bathtubs so large you could swim in them or box-like showers that only released jets of freezing cold water.

This time, at least, the New York hotel room had a large bed with silk sheets so soft they felt like sleeping on a cloud. Garrett was already gone when Hannah woke up, but he’d left a scrawled note saying: ‘In the gym working out. Love you!’ so Hannah decided to use the hotel swimming pool.

No one else was there when she reached the pool, and Hannah luxuriated in the peace and quiet, breathing in the scent of chlorine as she walked down the steps into the turquoise water and floated on her back, her dark hair streaming out behind her, and every muscle in her body relaxing until she felt weightless. Then, Hannah stared up at the ceiling as her legs kicked and her arms whirred through the water, while her mind moved even faster.

She didn’t want Aaron to walk free after the trial. She wanted to see his smug face blanch with fear as he realised he was going to face justice. She wanted him behind prison bars feeling totally powerless.

But, according to Maya, the large law firm that had agreed to take on the women’s case pro bono didn’t seem optimistic that Aaron would be convicted and their lawyer wanted to meet with Hannah while she was in New York. In a rare moment of spontaneity, Hannah had agreed because right now, her hatred of Aaron was outweighing her fear, and she wanted to hear how the case was going from the source.

Once her muscles started to ache, Hannah swam to the stairs and clambered out the pool, showered off the chlorine and joined Garrett at breakfast. He’d already loaded his plate with a six-egg omelette, avocado and four slices of toast (even years after she'd first witnessed the heaving tables at his frat house, hockey player’s appetites never failed to amaze Hannah) and she grabbed some pancakes and fruit from the breakfast bar, which was her go-to when they stayed at hotels.

“What time’s your flight?” she asked Garrett, pushing the pancakes around her plate because the smell of maple syrup, which she usually loved, was making her feel strangely nauseous.

“Twelve,” he said, “so I’ve got plenty of time. You’re staying another day to see Allie, right?” he confirmed.

Hannah nodded, “It's been too long, I can’t wait.” she said, pushing down a wave of guilt because she hadn’t told Garrett about her meeting with the lawyer. She didn’t want to worry him even more, given how unlikely she was to join the lawsuit.

Two cups of coffee, a kiss goodbye, and a subway ride later Hannah found herself staring at a towering glass skyscraper that said ‘Macmillan’ on the front in shining, silver cursive. She went up the escalator to the twenty first floor, where Larry Tricot was waiting for her.

“Hannah Wells, nice to meet you,” she said, holding out her hand, and he shook it with a slightly sweaty grip then ushered her into his office. Everything about Larry was a bit crumpled: from his shirt to his jacket to his posture but, despite appearances, he was apparently one of the best lawyers on the East Coast.

“I’ll cut to the chase.” said Larry, sitting down and grabbing a black coffee from his desk that he slurped loudly in between sentences. “The case against Delaney just isn’t very strong. At the moment, the jury will hear ‘he said, she said’ and juries don’t do well with uncertainty. They prefer clear-cut facts and black-and-white narratives of good and evil.”

“If Aaron’s one thing, it’s evil.” said Hannah, with a slight bite to her tone.

The lawyer nodded in agreement, dabbing at his sweaty forehead. “I hear you, that’s one of the reasons I took on this case. But you must understand that the Las Vegas Tigers’ and their lawyers are going to throw everything they have at this because they don’t want to lose the chance of more Stanley Cups, or decrease ticket sales, or to bin all the expensive merch that says ‘Aaron Delaney’ on it. Financially, it’s far more convenient for the team to back him even if they suspect he’s a monster. So, their lawyers will present him as an upstanding citizen and a faithful boyfriend and argue that each woman is either hysterical or lying.”

“Let me guess,” said Hannah, leaning back in the plush leather chair, “this is the part where you explain how me joining the lawsuit would help you win the case. And then I’ll tell you what I told Maya, which is that Aaron’s ruined my life once already. I don’t want it to happen a second time.”

“No, actually,” said Larry, pulling out a small, embossed business card, “this is the part where I give you my number and tell you to call me if you change your mind. No one can make you do this, Hannah. I’d be crazy to try and force an unwilling witness onto the stand. Speak to your fiancé or your therapist or your spirit healer — whatever whacky thing works for you, then let me know what you decide.”

“Spirit healers are more of my best friend’s thing.” said Hannah, with a wry grin. “I prefer facts I can prove.”

“Well, let me know if you want to help us prove this case.” said Larry, returning to his enormous stack of paperwork as Hannah walked out of the airless, glass tower into the humid heat, her spine straightening and smile growing as she headed towards Allie, like a flower growing towards the sun.

When she arrived at the penthouse, Allie opened the door with a loud squeal of excitement. “Oh my god, I missed you.” she said, jumping up and down and ushering Hannah inside.

Allie was wearing a seventies coat from an East Village thrift store (Hannah still remembered her gasp when she saw it on a mannequin), a layered boho skirt, and cowboy boots which anyone else would have struggled to pull off but, on Allie, seemed like she’d stepped out of the pages of a glossy editorial.

She looked at Hannah’s cardigan and blue jeans up and down and shook her head. “No honey,” she said, “I love this for you, but this does not work for a night out in New York. I’ll grab some options for you from my closet.”

‘Closet’ was a bit of an understatement, given Allie had turned an entire room in her and Dean’s apartment into clothes storage. Hannah stepped through racks of turquoise, magenta and cerulean dresses; coughed on the feathers of a misplaced boa, and almost knocked over an entire shelf of vintage boots and Manolo Blahnik heels.

Allie started selecting and tossing various options for skirts and dresses at Hannah, as she leapt forward to catch them, until her arms were struggling to contain the rainbow bundle of fabric that she dumped on a nearby chair. Rifling through them, Hannah pulled out an asymmetrical red dress with embossed golden flowers that cinched at the waist.

“This is beautiful.” she said admiringly.

Allie grinned cheekily, “Of course it's beautiful if I bought it. I have the perfect belt and ballet flats to go with it,” she said, diving back into the sea of clothes.

Once they’d done their makeup or, more accurately, Allie had done both their makeup while they gossiped about everyone and everything, they headed for a bar in Williamsburg that Allie claimed was, “to die for.”

Looking at the faded sign outside and the slightly grimy looking glass plastered with so many posters they were beginning to peel off in layers, Hannah felt dubious.

Allie saw her expression and laughed, “Don’t judge it until we step inside. All the Broadway greats came here for a reason.”

Opening the door, Hannah took in the art deco decor and the photos of various, vintage stars in gilt frames on the wall. “Okay, this is kind of cool.” she admitted.

“Go grab a table,” Allie commanded. “I’ll get us drinks.”. Hannah complied, grabbing the perfect spot, and sitting down right before a hipster with a beanie, who shot her a dirty look before skulking off.

Allie came back to the table with a sunset-coloured Aperol spritz for her and a pina colada with a tiny umbrella cocktail stick and glistening red cherry for Hannah.

Only once they were both two drinks in, and at the point where they weren’t drunk, but laughter came a little more easily, and the slightly sketchy dive bar seemed enmeshed in a rosy glow that smoothed over the cracks in the paint and the sticky floor, did Allie bring up the article.

“So,” said Allie, rolling the ice around her otherwise empty glass a little nervously. “I saw the news about Aaron,” her glossed lips curled when she said his name, “and I wanted to check how you’re doing. And please don’t give me the kind of ‘okay’ you say to strangers or aunts or people who take you at face value. I want to know if you’re really okay.”

Hannah took a deep breath, her gaze roaming around the room and focusing on Allie’s assorted gold and turquoise rings, the elderly barkeeper with faded, blue tattoos and the walls of yellowed sepia photographs, trying to delay speaking. “Garrett asked me that a lot, as well,” said Hannah eventually, “and I’m honestly coping. I’m not that scared fifteen-year-old girl anymore. Aaron doesn’t have power over me.”

“That’s great Hannah,” said Allie, and then her expression darkened. “I can’t believe what his girlfriend tweeted.” she said, rolling her eyes.

“What did she say?” asked Hannah, who hadn’t been online over the chaos of the weekend.

Allie’s face dropped. “You’re haven’t seen it? It doesn’t matter, then.”

“It can’t be worse than what a hundred, sad people have already vented online.” said Hannah, holding her hand out like a silent question, and Allie slightly reluctantly pulled up the Tweet and passed her phone, in its sparkling case, across the table. .

Hannah read it and grimaced. “I wish I was surprised that his girlfriend’s sticking by him.”

“Do you think she actually believes whatever lie Aaron’s told her?” asked Allie dubiously.

Hannah nodded. “Aaron has this way of spinning a web of silver lies that sounds more convenient, and palatable, than the truth. If our entire town believed him, I think he could manage to convince a woman who’s already in love with him.”

“Do you think he could convince a jury?” Allie asked tensely.

Hannah nervously stirred her drink. “He did it once before. The last few days I’ve been terrified that a journalist may uncover that story but right now I’m wondering if I should ignore my fear and go through it all again because I spoke with the lawyer today and…”

“And?” prompted Allie, gently.

“Without me the case doesn’t really have a chance. There’s not enough evidence and three of the claimants, the women from Indiana, could be seen as unreliable because,” Hannah took a deep breath, “they were my friends and Aaron blackmailed them into testifying against me when I was fifteen.”

Allie’s eyes widened, a thousand emotions cycling across her face from shock to sadness to outrage. “That bastard.” she seethed. “And I know they were kids too, but they sound like awful friends.”

Hannah let out a broken sob. “The worst but,” she wiped her eyes. “it turned out okay because I got lucky when I went to Briar University and was assigned the most amazing roommate, who ended up being a friend, no, a sister for life.”

“I wouldn’t have wanted to be roommates with anyone else.” said Allie, drawing Hannah into a hug so big she almost knocked over their drinks.

“Besides,” said Hannah, finally drawing back from the hug and rustling through the black leather bag Allie had lent her for tonight. “that’s not the reason I wanted to meet up.”

“Well, I already knew that. You came because you missed me, right?” teased Allie. Hannah shook her head and laughed. “I did miss you but that’s still not the reason. I wanted to give you this in person.” She handed an envelope to Allie, whose eyes widened with confusion until she opened the letter and squealed.

“You finally set a date for the wedding!” Allie exclaimed, her warm brown eyes sparkling. “Thank God, that gives me time to start planning my outfit. You’re going to be the most beautiful bride.” she said, the words coming out rapidly in a jumble of excitement.

“That’s not all.” Hannah said softly. “Read the other page.”

Allie pulled out the second page she had missed, read it, and then re-read it. “Hannah, of course I’ll be your maid-of-honour.” she said, her eyes welling up, as she slightly theatrically said, “I can’t believe that my baby’s getting married.”

“I’m only younger than you by two months.” Hannah groaned.

“Those two months were vital life experience.” teased Allie and then she got serious. “What do you need my help with? I have planning skills developed by two proms, three musicals and two plays and I’m not afraid to use them.”

“Everything.” said Hannah, dropping her head down onto the table in despair. “I’ve booked the venue, but I can’t decide what dress I want, I have no idea what to do about the caterers, and the worst thing is…” Hannah’s voice dropped into a hushed tone. “The guest list.”

Allie’s nose wrinkled. “Let me guess, Garrett’s dad is causing trouble again.”

“I still don’t know how he even heard that we were engaged, Garrett definitely didn’t tell him, but he’s been angling for an invite ever since. Phil keeps on sending these half-wilted bouquets to the house with notes along the lines of, ‘What are you doing next year? We should meet up!’

“You’d think he would catch the hint after seven years.” said Allie drily.

“Tell me about.” Hannah groaned. “Phil just doesn’t understand that Garrett can make choices outside of him, and now his son’s doing well in the NHL he’s desperate to claim credit.”

“Anyway, we have months to sort out the details. How are things with Dean?” Hannah asked, as she took another long sip of pina colada, and the taste of rum and coconut was so good it nearly made her eyes roll back.

Allie smiled, her eyes lighting up. “They’re great. I’ve convinced him to take salsa classes and I thought he’d be stumbling about like Bambi off ice, but it turns out his hockey athleticism translated surprisingly well into dancing.”

Allie showed Hannah a few videos on her phone, of Dean spinning and dipping her at a dizzying, fast speed and Hannah’s eyebrows shot up. “You’re good as well, like really good.” she said.

Allie laughed. “You’d hope so, after all the dance and stage combat classes I put myself through.”

“What does stage combat have to do with salsa?” asked Hannah bemused.

Allie looked at her with the utmost seriousness as she said, “Everything. Dancers are the most competitive people you’ll ever meet.”

Hannah laughed, “I’ll take your word for it. I’m surprised you had time while the show’s running.”

Allie had been the understudy for a Broadway production of Romeo and Juliet the last six months, and Hannah remembered how excited she was when she’d been cast, but now whenever it came up Allie’s face dropped.

“Don’t get me started,” she groaned. “I’m convinced Evelyn isn’t human. How can one person perform six nights in a row without breaking a sweat?” Evelyn Westwood was, according to Allie, a Broadway icon with the work ethic of a war horse, which was great if you weren’t the understudy desperate for her to take a sick day so you could go on stage.

“I haven’t gotten to sing at all yet, which means I need to let out all my unspent energy tonight. I’m thinking — “

“Absolutely no karaoke.” said Hannah, but then Allie looked up at her pleadingly and she bemoaned the fact that her best friend had the amazing ability to make her eyes look as wide and innocent as a puppy.

“Okay, fine,” said Hannah, crumbling, “but I’ll only sing one song.”

Three Abba songs, one Lady Gaga song and two dramatic renditions of Heathers later they stumbled out the doors of the karaoke bar with sore throats.

“I love you, Allie.” Hannah said softly, and the other girl held her hand and gripped it gently. “You’re the best friend I could ask for.”

Allie looked at her with surprising seriousness for a woman who’d drunk six iced margaritas, as she said, “I promise whatever you choose to do, and however the trial may go, I’ve got your back. You’re stuck with me for life.”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.” said Hannah.

Allie shot her a speculative look as she asked, “And if I asked you to sing one more song?”

“Now you’re pushing it,” teased Hannah as she hailed a cab, and Allie affectionately squeezed her hand.