Page 19

Chapter

Nineteen

The concert hall buzzed with nervous energy as I sat on stage readying my violin. I glanced over at Caleb and Lily, pursing my lips and crossing my eyes in an exaggerated face. Lily stifled a giggle, and Caleb grinned. Despite the butterflies in my stomach, it felt good knowing we were all in this together. I did want a solo at some point . . . but I also dreaded the day I’d have to play a solo.

Performing was like that. Full of paradoxes. If only I could always play my solos on a darkened stage with my audience hiding in the curtains.

I had not been given that option on Wednesday at my unofficial audition with Franck. I exhaled with relief at having that over with. All I’d gotten were four words. “Begin” and “You may go.” Best believe I’d mulled over those last three during every waking moment since.

As people started filing into their seats, a familiar flash of pink hair caught my eye. Crystal and Maddie waved enthusiastically from the third row and my smile grew so big, my cheeks ached. Those two were the best, dropping everything to come support me tonight when I needed it most. I'd been trying hard not to dwell on the empty seats that should've been filled by my family. Especially with Dad. Mom called once to let me know he was out of surgery, but I hadn’t received an update after that. I made a mental note to phone Mom as soon as the concert wrapped.

"Hey," Lily stage-whispered. "You good?"

I blinked, realizing I'd been spacing out. I drew a deep breath and nodded. “ Break a leg! ” She held out her right ankle, and I laughed under my breath.

The house lights dimmed and a hush fell over the audience as Ms. Franck strode onto the stage, her vibrant forest green shawl billowing behind her like a cape. She took her place at the podium, paused and straightened her shoulders, then with a dramatic flourish of her baton, the orchestra burst to life.

We moved through the program, enlivened by the applause and palpable energy that a live audience always brought. The small sounds of rustling fabric, a cough, the voice of a toddler. All of it somehow shocked us into an excellence we couldn’t achieve in the practice room.

Lily’s violin sang during her solo with such purity and grace, the notes shimmered.

Watching her naturally transported me back to my audition, but I tried to shake it off and just be there. Just enjoy and not think about myself for once. Difficult to do, but if I couldn’t achieve that at Christmas time, when could I?

As the song ended, I refocused and adjusted my sheet music. The joyful strains of "Sleigh Ride" filled the air and I let myself get swept up in the familiar melody. We played song after song, and then all too soon, the final notes of the concert echoed through the hall and we rose for our bows.

I grinned as the house lights came up a fraction, squinting across the sea of faces and our standing ovation to pick out Crystal and Maddie in the crowd. There seemed to be a family of giants seated directly in front of them. Hopefully, they were still able to see the stage.

I turned my head further, and my gaze snagged like a ring in a sweater. Energy zinged from my head to my toes.

Rob. He stood at the back of orchestra right, waiting for the people ahead of him to exit into the aisle. He wore a crisp burgundy button-down, dark slacks, and a tie . Since when did Rob Thompson own a tie?

That tug in my midsection flared, and I wanted to shove my stand out of the way, barrel through the musicians ahead of me and leap off the stage to get to him. To ask why the hell he was there at my concert. To see what that shirt looked like on him up close.

Before I could catch his eye, he turned on his heel and strode out of the auditorium.

"Sharla!"

I turned to see Crystal and Maddie waving at me from the side stairs at the front of the stage. I set down my violin and skirted through the stands to meet them.

“That was incredible!” Crystal enveloped me in a bone-crushing hug, nearly lifting me off my feet with her enthusiasm.

Maddie grinned, her curls bouncing as she nodded in agreement. "Seriously, I got chills during 'Carol of the Bells.’”

I ducked my head, feeling a flush creep up my neck at their effusive praise. "Thanks, guys."

“Are you so glad it’s over?” Crystal whispered.

I laughed. “Oh my hell, yes.”

Maddie grabbed my face in her hands. "I have instructions. Are you ready?” I grinned and nodded as much as I could with her palms squeezing my cheeks. “Get your shit. Meet us at the front doors. Dinner's on me tonight."

My eyes widened. "Maddie, you don't have to do that!"

She waved away my protests. "Early Christmas present. I insist."

I followed her list to a T—it helped that there were only two items on it—and as we walked to Ranchmans, laughing and rehashing the concert's highlights, I made a mental plan to do my Christmas shopping now that I was a free woman. I hadn't even started, let alone figured out meaningful gifts for Crystal and Maddie. And it was going to take some figuring. They deserved something special, but on my anemic bank account balance, I'd be lucky to afford a pair of fuzzy socks from the dollar store.

But those concerns could wait until tomorrow. This was a perfect night. Juicy burgers, hearing about Crystal’s roommate drama involving an ex-boyfriend and a stray cat, messing with Maddie about her irrational anxiety over finals next week, and finally spilling on Logan’s visit.

When I walked in the door to the townhouse, I’d almost managed to forget the sight of Rob at the back of the orchestra section.

Almost.

I flicked on the lights and scanned the living room and kitchen. Nothing. I stepped forward until I could see his door.

My heart stumbled over itself. Open. That meant Rob was out. Where would he have gone after the concert?

I checked the time on the microwave. It was already ten o’clock on a Thursday night. Was he—? Did he go to the concert and then start his shift late?

For a brief moment, I considered throwing on my old clothes and running back to campus. Finding him and offering to help clean toilets. But I didn’t know which building he was assigned to. And that would be weird, wouldn’t it?

I puttered around the kitchen, and numbers, of all things, sprouted in my head. 403-772-7272. Rob’s pager. I hadn’t meant to memorize it, but it was the easiest phone number imaginable.

I stared at the phone. If he was working, he’d be near plenty of phones to ring me back. I could give a casual, breezy "Thanks for coming tonight. I appreciate the support" sort of thing. Totally platonic. Just general, societally encouraged manners.

I hesitated, my hand itching to pick up the receiver. But I didn’t pick it up. Because my pulse did not feel general or societally encouraged.

I retreated to my room and took my water bottle with me.

_____

Morning came far too soon, the sun peeking through my curtains and mocking my groggy, sleep-deprived state. I rolled over and checked the time. 11:30 a.m. Oops. So much for my grand plans of rising early and being productive.

I stumbled out of bed and into the kitchen. Rob’s breakfast dishes were in the sink. His door was open.

Right. The Outlaws had an away game in Leduc the next day. Which meant practice in the morning so they had a full day to recover. Then the big invitational meet was next weekend, so Rob and the others would presumably be spending every spare second in the gym or on the ice, grunting and sweating and chugging raw eggs or whatever.

I brewed a pot of coffee and surveyed the living area. Dust on the TV stand. Lint fuzzies on the carpet. The fact that I couldn’t remember the sound of our vacuum didn’t bode well.

I ate breakfast and channelled my recently discovered inner janitor, and two hours later, the floors were mopped, the shelves were dusted, and I'd even scrubbed the mysterious Pollock-esque stains out of the microwave. Housework complete, I treated myself to a long, hot shower and a fresh outfit before venturing out into the chilly December afternoon.

The boutique-lined street near Douglas University twinkled with holiday cheer, ribbons, and garlands adorning every storefront. I popped into a few shops, admiring the handcrafted jewelry and artisanal candles, but nothing screamed "Perfect Gift for Crystal or Maddie." I was about to call it quits when a small display of handmade soaps caught my eye—delicate squares in intoxicating scents like "Winter Citrus" and "Sugar Cookie." I selected a few bars to tuck into gift bags when inspiration finally struck.

Huffing soap somehow gave me superhuman energy, so I stocked up on groceries, picked up a new pair of warm gloves, and snagged the last box of Crystal's favorite peppermint bark at the campus candy store. By the time I lugged my bags back to the townhouse, the sun was setting, painting the sky in streaks of orange creamsicle and pink cotton candy.

And yet, after all of that accomplishment and distraction, the second I got back into the house, all I could think about was Rob. Had he come home during the day? Had he already showered? Was he working tonight before the game? Where had he gotten that shirt?

I put away my groceries and purchases, cycling between “you should be thinking about Logan” and “Is the bath mat wet?” every thirty seconds.

What did it mean that he’d come to my concert? Did he actually love that kind of music? Or was it curiosity?

Another possibility sent warmth spreading through my chest. He’d heard my conversation with my mom. Did he know my family wasn’t going to make it? Had he come because he thought I wouldn’t have anyone in the audience?

Yes . The truth of it rang through me like a gong. I didn’t know how I knew that was exactly why he’d shown up, but I did.

Suddenly my body felt like a lit sparkler, and any thought of sitting down and reading a book or studying for finals was banished. I had to do something. I had to?—

I stared at the fresh loaf of bread on the counter. Toast. I could make toast and . . . I opened the fridge and pulled out the package of lean ground turkey I’d just purchased, along with all the half-finished veggies in the crisper and the new block of sharp cheddar cheese.

I set to work, browning the turkey and sautéing the veggies with a medley of aromatic spices. I was just making dinner. For myself, and since there would be extras, Rob could eat, too. That wasn’t weird or flirty or anything.

Just as I was sliding the skillet into the oven to melt the cheese, the front door opened. Rob trudged in, looking like he'd gone ten rounds with a pack of wolves. He froze, his eyebrows shooting up as he took in the scene before him.

I’d put out two plates. Filled two glasses of water with sliced lemon. At the time it seemed like a simple, kind gesture, but now that Rob was standing in front of me, I second guessed it.

“Uh, hi.”

Rob dropped his hockey bag, took off his shoes and walked in. "What's all this?"

I shrugged, busying myself with wiping spilled cumin off the counter. “I was hungry. Thought you might be, too."

Rob's lips twitched, a hint of a smile playing at the corners. "You didn't have to do that."

"It’s nothing.”

He rested a hand on the counter, and I turned back to the oven, checking on the cheese. I’d turned it on broil which meant it was already perfectly bubbly. I pulled the skillet out and set it on the stove top.

“It’s hot, but you can dish up if you want.”

Rob picked up a plate and rounded the island. I skittered back to avoid being too close, then grabbed my own plate off the counter and waited my turn.

We settled into our seats at the island. Rob blew on his food, then took a bite. I did the same, exhaling with relief that it didn’t taste awful.

Rob grunted. "This is good.”

I swallowed. “Thanks.”

Rob shovelled another forkful into his mouth. "Definitely beats what I was going to have.”

“Which was?”

“Energy bar. Cereal.”

I grinned. “You weren’t going to eat a real meal?”

He shook his head. “Too tired.”

“Are you excited about the game tomorrow?”

He shrugged. “Not about the driving.”

“Yeah. That’s a lot.”

Rob leaned back in his chair, letting out a long breath. “I might take a textbook with me.”

I laughed. “Oh, you’ll get mocked so hard.”

As Rob ran a hand through his hair and took another bite, explaining how half the guys on the team were at risk of failing a class that semester, whatever jitters I’d felt earlier drained from me like I’d pulled the plug on the bathtub.

We talked about practice, about the invitational, and the stress of finals. All of mine were stacked at the beginning of the week, thankfully, but he had one on the first day of the tournament.

“Don’t you think your professor would change that? Thursday is so late.” I scraped the last pieces of turkey and pepper from my plate.

“I think you should ask her for me.”

I rolled my eyes. “If it’s a she, you’ll probably have better luck.”

“Are you insinuating that my seventy-year-old professor might be tempted by all of this?” He gestured at himself, and a flush crept up my neck. How could she not be?

“She’ll think you're adorable. Like her sweet little grandson or something.”

Rob let out a puff of air. “Oh, I’m not sweet.”

The flush crept higher, and I searched for something to look at that wasn’t Rob’s dark lashes hitting his cheek. “Oh, wow. It’s late.” I got up from my stool too quickly, knocking my knee on the counter.

“You okay?” Rob’s hand landed on my leg. I inhaled sharply, and he quickly pulled it back.

“Yeah. Fine, thanks.” I grabbed for our empty plates but Rob was faster.

"Let me. You cooked, so it's only fair that I clean up."

I hesitated, chewing my lower lip. "No, it’ll take two seconds. You’ve been gone all day. Just go shower and relax."

Rob held my gaze for a long moment. “Are you saying I smell?”

I laughed, dropping my eyes. “I mean, you said it not me.”

He tapped a finger on the counter. “Thanks for dinner.”

I shoved my hands in my back pockets, swaying in a way that was definitely not natural. “You are welcome.”

His lips twitched, then he turned and walked to his bedroom to grab his toiletries and clothes.

“You can leave them in there,” I said in a rush. Rob turned back. “Your stuff. If you want. Seems silly to have to take it in and out all the time.”

His mouth quirked. “Worried I’m using Logan’s?”

“No.” I rolled my eyes and yanked the dishwasher open. I knew he wasn’t. Because Rob’s scent was permanently branded in my mind and it was nothing like my boyfriend’s.