Page 12

Chapter

Twelve

I woke with a start, my heart racing. I shouldn’t have been surprised that I dreamed about a break-in after everything that happened the night before. I didn’t need a dream interpreter to figure that one out.

I lay there for a while, letting my mind wander as I stared at the popcorn-textured ceiling. So strange. Everything inside me felt foreign, like I’d picked up an instrument that wasn’t mine. Still familiar, but I didn’t know its quirks.

As much as I wanted to stay there forever and not risk running into Rob, I did have to get ready for the day. I cursed my past self for not thinking far enough ahead to grab some of my snacks from the cupboard. That and my . . . water bottle.

What the hell? It was only me and Rob in this house. He was the only person who could’ve washed it out, but why would he do that? It was in the exact same place as where Logan typically left it, and that was the most disturbing piece of information.

My head throbbed as I rose from the mattress like a corpse from a grave. Tylenol was going to be my friend today. I threw my legs over the side of the bed and walked to the door, cracking it and listening for any signs of life. When all I heard was the hum of the refrigerator, I threw on a hoodie and braved the short hall.

I strode to the island and leaned forward to peek in the other direction. Rob's bedroom door was open. I drew a deep breath and exhaled in relief. He must have left already for the rink.

I grabbed a banana and some yogurt from the fridge, then booted up the computer to check my emails. The dial-up modem screeched and crackled as it connected. I walked back into the kitchen and ate while I waited.

I glanced at my water bottle still sitting upside down on the counter. What. The. Hell.

By the time I finished my banana, the internet finally connected with a chime. I sat down on the chair, curling my leg under me, and set my half-eaten yogurt on the desk.

I scrolled through a few messages from my mom, one from my little sister who I needed to be better about writing. She was in grade ten, and we probably had plenty in common now. I was legitimately excited to see her over the holiday, which had certainly not always been the case. Being out of the house made me view a lot of things differently.

The shrill ring of the phone made me jump. I leaped from the chair and ran to the kitchen, grabbing the receiver.

“Hello?”

“Hey, babe.”

I grinned, leaning back against the counter. No shouting. No clattering dishes. “Hey.”

“You getting ready for the game today?”

“Of course. Not the same without you here, though.” I twisted the cord around my finger. “What are you doing this weekend?”

He blew out a breath. “Rest morning.”

“Well, that’s nice.” I tensed, already sensing his mood. I couldn’t hear the smile in his voice. He was too quiet. I wanted to throw something out there, something new we could talk about to take his mind off whatever was bothering him, but came up empty. Every single thing on my mind was either depressing, disturbing, or both. None of it was what Logan needed.

"Sharla, I don't know what I'm doing out here.” He paused, then drew another long breath. "I'm letting the team down. I missed an easy shot on goal last night, and then I totally botched a pass. Coach reamed me out."

My heart ached for him. "Hey, everyone has off days?—”

"I just feel like I have to be better. If I want to make the final team?—”

“Wait, you’re not on the final team?”

He grunted, and there was a scuffle of fabric. I imagined him dropping onto the couch or lying back in his bed. “No, they make final selections right before the tournament.”

“So . . . it’s like you’re auditioning.”

“Yep. Every day. Practice, games, off the ice.”

I let go of the cord, letting it drape over the counter. “Sounds exhausting.” He sniffed, and I wondered if he was crying or close to it. Ugh, I hated that we were so far apart. “But, you're Logan freaking Kemp. I think you might be forgetting that.”

He chuckled weakly. "Yeah."

I chewed my bottom lip. “I know you really want this. I one hundred percent believe in you.”

He groaned. "I miss you.”

My heart skipped a beat. Finally. It had been weeks, and that was the first time he’d said those words. “I miss you, too. So much.” It was then that I wanted to blurt everything out. Tell him about the weird night with Rob, about the altercation with that asshole on the Montana team, about my weird dreams. But the closest I could get was, “Rob washed my water bottle.”

Logan paused a second. “Huh.”

“Did you . . . I don’t know, tell him to look out for me or something? While you were gone?” The question sounded worse out loud than in my head. Stupid, and cheesy.

Logan laughed. “Uh, of course I did. I told him not to be a dickwad otherwise I’d kick his ass to the curb.” I laughed with him, noting that he hadn’t exactly answered my question. “I didn’t think he’d take it that far, though.”

“That far, how?” I grinned, picking up my water bottle so I could fill it.

“Washing a bottle that doesn’t need to be washed.” He laughed again, but that time, I didn’t join in. “I guess he got sick of waiting for you to do it. My girl. So particular. I love it.”

My stomach dropped to my knees. I set the bottle back on the counter. Those were not the words of someone who washed my water bottles.

The last six months flashed in my mind. The mornings I woke up and found it there drying on the side of the sink. Last night when I found it there.

I started to feel nauseous. “Hey, I should probably get going.”

“Yeah, okay. Well, say hi to everyone for me.”

I nodded. “For sure.”

“They gave us our flight info. We leave for Europe December third instead of the fourth.”

I exhaled in a rush. “Wow. Coming up quick.”

“We need to get acclimated. Jet lag and all that.”

“Well, hopefully it all works out.” I stretched the phone cord so I could look at my calendar hanging next to the computer across the room. Today was the sixteenth of November. “So we can talk for the next two weeks on the phone. Then email?” Logan was terrible at email. And who knew how often he’d have access to a computer?

“Yep. Maybe I’ll have to do some typing practice.” He chuckled.

“You know, in all your spare time.” Here we were, fantasizing again.

“Love you, Shar.”

“Love you, Logan.” I hung up the phone.

Not wanting to think too much about the wildly confusing conversation we just had, I finished my yogurt, then blasted the radio and got in the shower. I washed my hair, grateful for the thousandth time that it was short, then shaved my legs for absolutely zero reason—I wasn’t going to the pool anytime soon and the only person who would notice my smooth skin was in another province—and got out.

The steamy washroom mirror greeted me, and I swiped a hand across the glass. It was go time. Game day makeup was a ritual. Really only for Maddie, Crystal, and me, but that counted. Winged black eyeliner with gold shadow, mascara, and a bold red lip. It was close enough to our school colours without it looking like our lipstick had expired.

I glanced down at the bracelet on the shelf and picked it up. It was beautiful. Delicate. I slipped it around my wrist and tightened the clasp, then dried my hair and left it a little spiky with product. Once I threw on my Outlaws jersey, I headed out to meet Maddie.

By the time we arrived at the parking lot, it was already buzzing with pregame energy. Tailgates down, music blasting, the scent of charcoal grilled burgers and beer wafting through the air. This was college hockey at its finest.

"Hey!" Crystal's pink hair bobbed through the crowd as she waved me over. "About time, girl. We were about to send out a search party."

Maddie grinned, handing me a red Solo cup. "Drink up. It's game time."

I took a sip, the cheap beer cold and bitter on my tongue. We laughed and joked with the other Outlaws fans, the camaraderie electric. But as the minutes ticked by, I noticed Maddie and Crystal exchanging glances, their eyes darting to me with poorly concealed concern.

"What?" I finally asked, exasperated. "Do I have something on my face?"

Crystal shook her head. "No, you just seem a bit off today. Everything okay?"

I forced a smile. "Yeah, totally. This is just weird without Logan, you know?"

It was a good enough excuse, they let it drop. I considered telling them everything swirling in my head. They wouldn’t have judged me. But I couldn’t speak any of it yet since I wasn’t finished judging myself.

Why couldn’t I just be excited for Logan? Why had I put myself in that stupid situation in the courtyard? And why did my chest resonate like someone was dragging a bow over an upright bass anytime I thought about Rob?

I put more energy into looking like I was having a good time, which meant I was the star of the show. Hilarious! Charming! Full of anecdotes! The Sharla everyone knew and loved.

I needed a nap by the time we made our way into the rink, but parking ourselves on the benches directly under the heaters was almost enough of a reward for my efforts. The stands were a sea of maroon and gold, Outlaws fans out in full force. On the opposite side, a small but vocal cluster of Rocky College of Montana fans sat waving a blue flag.

Crystal unfurled our own massive banner reading "GO OUTLAWS!" in glittery letters while Maddie pulled out a stack of posters she'd made with each player’s number. “Aw, guess we don’t need this one.” She held up a number eighteen, then slid it back into her folder.

Something about that hit me like a bucket of cold water. I was suddenly back in the hall, listening to Rob and Logan. She doesn’t understand the kind of dedication and commitment this takes, bud.

Was this what he meant? That I didn’t get how hockey would take Logan away from me? How hard it would be to stay home while he was off having grand adventures in the US or Europe or wherever else they wanted him to play?

I clenched my fists. I was nothing if not dedicated and committed. I could do this for two months, and then Logan and I could talk about everything. Distance was the problem here, not us.

The Outlaws took the ice for warmups, and the ache in my chest eased. These boys were family, a band of brothers I'd come to love over the past year. From the first line to the fourth, the starting goalie to the backup, they were my boys. And tonight, I'd cheer them on with everything I had, even if my heart wasn't fully in it.

We chatted and laughed until the lights dimmed, and we all rose for the national anthems. The choir sang both the Canadian and American since the visiting team was from Montana. I already wanted to throat-punch them, which didn’t bode well for the shit-talking that was about to come out of my mouth during the game.

“Here we go!” Crystal grabbed onto my arm and squeezed. The buzzer sounded, signalling the start of the game. I leaned forward, my eyes locked on the ice.

Rob took the face-off. I shouldn’t have been surprised, but it was still jarring to see him in Logan’s place. As the puck dropped, I tried to figure out which player was opposite him. The guy who’d grabbed my arm? One of his friends?

Their sticks clashed. Rob won, kicking the puck across to Axel. And then he was crushed against the boards.

“Interference!” Maddie cried out. The ref didn’t see it. He was already down the ice. “That’s bull!”

The crowd booed, and my pulse rushed, heat flooding to my cheeks. This was because of the courtyard. I knew it before Rob sprinted to catch up with the other guys and got nailed by another player as he went for a pass from Bear.

The Montana team had it out for him through the entire first period, slamming into him at every opportunity. Each hit was harder than the last. Brutal. Punishing. The first period was a mess of dirty plays and cheap shots. Montana racked up penalty after penalty, but it didn't seem to deter them. Rob was taking the brunt of it, his frustration mounting with each hit.

I winced as Rob was checked into the boards near the blue line, his head snapping back from the force.

"What the hell is going on?" Crystal muttered, her brow furrowed. "They're targeting him."

I nodded, my stomach twisting as another Montana player slammed Rob into the glass. He staggered, slapping a glove to his helmet.

Maddie let out a low hiss beside me, her fingers clenching around her poster. And then, with just seconds left on the clock, it happened. Rob snapped. When the player from last night collided into him at center ice, he shoved him back. Hard.

“This is my fault.” I groaned, clapping my hands over my mouth.

“What?” Crystal turned to look at me, but I couldn’t stop staring. The Montana player dropped his stick to the ice, and Rob’s gloves were already next to it. He tore at his jersey, and both their helmets went flying. They were throwing punches, a blur of maroon and blue.

The refs descended, prying them apart and escorting them to the penalty box. As Rob yanked off his helmet, I got a clear look at his opponent. It was him, the drunk douchebag from the courtyard. Rage boiled in my veins as they hurled insults at each other, slamming their fists against the glass.

"I've never seen Rob lose it like that," Maddie said, her eyes wide. "He's usually so controlled."

Crystal nodded, her pink hair glinting under the lights. "What happened, Shar?"

I bit my lip. “Long story.” The buzzer sounded, signalling the end of the period. I slumped back in my seat.

Crystal raised an eyebrow. “Start talking.”

“Holy hell.” Maddie straightened in her seat, saving me from answering for the moment. Crystal and I both followed her gaze to the Outlaws bench.

“What?” I asked. I didn’t see anything noteworthy.

She curled into me, pointing toward the end of the bench. “That guy. Who is he?”

I searched and found the only face I didn’t recognize. “I don’t know. New coaching staff?” They were all new this year, but Logan hadn’t mentioned someone coming in mid-semester. But then again, Logan wasn’t here.

Maddie’s face was drawn, her eyes wide. “I think that’s my step brother.”