Page 20

Chapter

Twenty

My fingers clutched the pen as I stared down at the jazz composition study guide, the scribbled intervals blurring before my tired eyes. Just one more practice test, then I could pack up and meet Crystal and Maddie for Christmas shopping.

After the twenty-four-seven rehearsals preparing for the winter showcase performance, I was drowning in neglected coursework and final projects. Who knew music majors actually had to study?

"Girl, you've been hunched over that desk for hours!" Crystal leaned over the library desk, a bundle of red and green with jangling bracelets. "Time for some retail therapy."

Maddie stopped next to her, planting a hand on her hip. "Get your butt up, Shar. You already know this stuff."

Groaning, I stood and stretched. Crystal was right, I desperately needed a break. Plus, my stress level would significantly decrease once I bought presents for the last few people on my list.

Maddie drove us to the mall, and it was bustling with holiday shoppers. I picked up a soft flannel shirt in hunter green for my dad. I figured he could use something cozy as he recovered from his procedure. For my violin-loving mom, I found an elegant music journal to record her compositions and a set of artisan rosin from the specialty shop.

"Let's split up for a bit. Meet at the food court in an hour?" Maddie suggested with a conspiratorial wink. Damn, I was so grateful for her. I was positive Crystal had already gotten our gifts, and I didn’t want to look like the loser who waited ‘til last minute. Now Maddie and I could at least look like losers together.

We parted ways, and I wandered into a funky boutique, drawn to their quirky and slightly inappropriate window display. I browsed, grinning to myself. Mugs shaped like boobs. A frying pan with a penis handle.

I almost laughed out loud when I saw a Chrétien toilet bowl cleaner. I reached for it, immediately thinking of Rob, then pulled my hand back. Would it be weird for me to get him something? It wasn’t like it was a serious gift. It was a joke. He’d think it was hilarious, and I wouldn’t care if Logan saw I bought it for him.

I picked it up and kept shopping, eventually finding a sweatshirt that said “Sometimes I go off on a tangent” for Maddie and a “Staff Meeting” T-shirt for Crystal, complete with a treble clef and animated music notes. Thoughtful and funny, plus I had the soaps to go with them.

I’d already gotten Logan the perfect present last month. A signed hockey puck from Doug Gilmore. Caleb had a friend whose sister married his cousin. He got one for me when he went back home for Thanksgiving, and I was still forever in his debt.

I had the store double wrap everything, and the toilet bowl cleaner was strangely shaped enough, it threw Crystal and Maddie off the scent. I had gift bags at home that I’d saved from parties over the summer. Not Christmasy, but neither of them would care.

We went for cheap, happy hour sushi and headed back to campus. I wrapped and stashed the presents under my bed, all except the toilet bowl cleaner since that was unwrappable and only got a sticky bow.

I slept and woke on Saturday to find that a mammoth blizzard slammed into Alberta, blanketing everything in white. Crystal, Maddie, and I treated our emails like a chat board, messages flying every two seconds.

The Outlaws were in Leduc for their away game, and we hadn’t heard a thing from them. Deerfoot Trail was closed between Airdrie and Red Deer, which didn’t bode well for the highway further north.

Maddie:

I’m worried about them. They have finals and then the invitational.

Crystal:

Are they going to make it back in time for finals? The storm isn’t supposed to let up until Sunday afternoon.

I peeked out my window but couldn’t see anything. Wind and snow swirled past the glass, making it look like I lived in a snow globe. I sat on the couch, my leg bouncing. Had they tried driving home? Were they stuck near Edmonton for the night?

There was a way I could get answers . . .

I turned and looked at the phone, the numbers already scrolling through my head. This was logistical, wasn’t it?

Before I could second guess myself, I stood and punched Rob’s pager number into the phone, then typed in our home phone and hung up. I leaned back against the island counter, staring at the receiver in the cradle. All the expressions about pots not boiling and patience being a virtue flooded my thoughts, and after what felt like ten minutes, I was about to force myself back to the computer.

And then the phone rang.

I nearly dropped the receiver as I snatched it up. "Hello?" My voice wavered, and I coughed to cover it up.

"Hey. Is everything okay?" Rob sounded tense.

I could read his tone like notes on the treble clef. It was automatic. Intuitive. "Yeah. No. Everything's fine. I was worried about you—the team, I mean."

"Oh, right." Disappointment? Relief? Maybe a little of both? "We're fine. We just can't get back on the road until the plows come out."

"Plows? They have more than one in Leduc?"

Rob chuckled, his breath crackling in the speaker. "You should take that show on the road."

I stretched the cord across the hall and plopped down on the couch. “How was the game? A little embarrassing for you?"

The grin on his face was audible. "No. We were playing Leduc. Remember?"

"Hey. They make 'em tough up there."

"No, that's fair.” He exhaled. "They've got a new team this year. Young. Not much experience."

"Well, no match for the wise and weathered Outlaws.”

“Do I sound like I'm trying to be cocky here? You asked me a question. I gave you the truth."

I laughed, my skin starting to tingle. "Sorry.” It was so much easier to tease. That was what Rob and I had always done. Mess with each other. Mock each other. I didn't quite know how to talk to him normally.

"Don't apologize." His voice was low, rough. No grin anymore.

My heart thudded so loud, I wondered if he could hear it. "Soooo, you guys are staying at the hotel for the night? They had enough rooms?"

"Yep. Surprisingly not a tourist destination.”

A voice cut in. “Who are you talking to, Thompson?"

“Hey—”

Something scuffed over the speaker, and then another voice came on the line. "Hello?”

“Hello. Who am I speaking with?"

"Shit, it's Sharla?" Axel crowed. "Since when do you phone Rob?"

"Since he's the only one on the team with a pager. It's not like I had your hotel number."

"I mean, you could've looked it up. It’s not like there are that many of ‘em.”

"Just what I always wanted to do on the weekend—phone a string of random hotels."

"Alright, alright. You're off the hook. What are you guys jabbering about?"

I worked to make my voice sound casual. "Uh, I was just about to ask if there was anything Crystal, Maddie, and I could do for you guys. I know you were planning to be back by tonight, and with the invitational this weekend?—"

"Oh, actually, you would save my ass if you went and got me a bottle of wine." Axel breathed heavily like he was getting up from the couch.

"A bottle of wine for the invitational?"

"No. I'm supposed to meet Pam's parents tomorrow night. I was planning to go get something to take as a housewarming gift, you know, make a good impression and all that. But I don't know when I'm gonna get home. I won't have time to go to the store if I wanna shower."

"Yeah. Showering is a must to meet the parents." I got up from the couch and walked back to the kitchen, grabbing my Post-it notes and pen. "What kind of wine do you want, and how much do you want to spend?"

"Keep it around, like, forty bucks, but nothing that looks cheap. Make sure it has a nice label."

I scribbled down the note. "Alright. Got it. Anything else?"

Axel pulled the receiver away from his mouth and polled the group. Were they all in Rob's hotel room?

"No, I think that's it. Here, I'll pass you back to Thompson. Thanks, Sharla. You're the best."

Rob got back on the line, and I could've sworn I heard a muttered "asshole." "Hey, sorry about that."

"No, it's all good. I called to see if there was anything we could do to help." I paused, my mouth suddenly feeling like I was chewing cotton balls. "Is there anything you need?"

Rob drew in a breath. "No, I think I'm good."

Hesitation. His voice had lifted a little too energetic. "What is it?" I pressed.

"No, it's nothing."

I leaned back on the counter. "You're a terrible liar."

He blew out a small puff of air. "There's nothing I want you to help me with."

I scoffed. "What? I'm not good enough to run your errands?"

"No, I didn't mean that."

"What is it, Thompson?" Heat lifted to my cheeks.

Another pause, another breath. "I need to wash my home jersey." My pulse quickened.

His jersey. I blinked, then turned my head. That would probably be in his bedroom.

I thought about pushing his door open, walking in and looking around at where he kept his clothes. Where he slept.

I swallowed hard. "Okay. No problem. Where can I find it?”

“I'll probably have time if we get back Sunday night.”

“Rob. I'm about to throw in a white load anyway. Where is it?"

"In my room. I think it's in the closet on top of my laundry bin."

"Okay. I'll take care of it. Anything else?"

Rob grunted. "It's kind of a mess in there."

I grinned. "Well, that's embarrassing because my room is always spotless." I meant it as a joke, but he didn’t laugh.

He was quiet a moment. "Thank you."

"Yeah. What are friends for, right?"

Silence.

Rob was quiet long enough, I wondered if the call had disconnected.

“I’m not your friend.” His voice was so low, I barely heard it.

When my brain caught up, it felt as if someone had their hand over my stomach, and they were starting to squeeze. “Okay, I?—”

“See you tomorrow.”

The dial tone made me jump. I’m not your friend? I pulled the receiver from my ear and stared at it. What the hell did he mean by that?

Just as I set it down, the phone started to ring, and I yanked it back to the side of my face. “What the hell did you mean by that?” I snapped.

“Uhh, hello to you, too.”

Logan. It was Logan’s voice on the other end of the line. My face burned. “Oh, hi! Sorry, I—I thought you were someone else.”

“Who?”

“Oh, just someone from orchestra.”

Logan blew out a puff of air. “That explains why your line was busy forever. I've been trying to call."

Guilt streaked through me. "Sorry, the Outlaws got snowed in at Leduc. I was on the phone with them, trying to help get things sorted for next week's invitational."

“And then the orchestra asshole?”

I laughed a little too brightly. “Yep, exactly.”

Logan drew a breath. It was quiet. There weren’t a hundred other voices sounding off in the background. "Man, I miss the Outlaws. It's great here, don't get me wrong, but there's nothing like your hometown team, you know?"

"Totally." I wedged the phone between my ear and shoulder, stretching the cord so I could plop down on the couch. “You’re getting close to leaving the country.” I braced myself, waiting for him to break down and tell me he didn’t make it. Was I a terrible girlfriend for hoping he would get cut? I didn’t want him to fail, but I wanted things to go back to how they were. Where Logan and I were joined at the hip. When I looked forward to him coming home every day like it was Christmas morning. Where I didn’t get annoyed with him when he surprised me by showing up in the house. Where I didn’t think about Rob Thompson . . .

"Three days." Pride and excitement crept into his voice. "It's unreal. I can't wait to get out there and show what I can do."

So. Not coming home, then. "You're going to be amazing.”

"Thanks, babe." He paused. "How are your exams going? You must be swamped."

I made a face, zipping up my jacket. "Ugh, don't remind me. I have two papers and a test this week. It's brutal."

"That sucks." Logan actually sounded sympathetic for once. "I'm really lucky—most of my profs postponed my finals until I get back in January. I don't even have to take one of them."

Of course he didn't. The bitter thought flashed through my mind before I could stop it. Logan Kemp. Gets whatever he wants.

Immediately, I felt awful. He worked incredibly hard. He deserved the accommodations and opportunities coming his way. What the hell was my problem? "So, tell me about your week.”

I settled back as Logan happily dove into every play, every moment he had on the ice. Just like when we did this at home, my mind wandered.

A year ago, Logan and I got together at the invitational. We’d been crossing paths all semester, but I didn’t think he was interested in me. Not until we were talking, all bundled up at the bonfire, and he handed me a mix tape.

Unbeknownst to me, he’d been paying attention. When we were at parties with the Outlaws, he noticed my favorite songs. Almost all of them were ballads. Love songs. I got the message loud and clear.

“Mhmm.” I validated at all the right spots in his story, closing my eyes and letting his voice wash through me.

Wine for Axel.

Jersey for Rob.

I pursed my lips at the flash of nervous energy down my spine. It was just laundry.

“Mm, and what happened then?”