Chapter 26
Chapter
Twenty-Six
We crossed onto the Douglas University campus, and I had to work to keep up with Rob's long strides. We passed the bookstore and arts centre, then stopped in front of a brick building I didn’t recognize. He used his keys to open the door, and I stepped into a long corridor.
The air smelled faintly of concrete and cleaning solution. The place was deserted.
"Why does this feel like the beginning of a horror movie?" I asked.
Rob glanced over his shoulder. "At least it’s not the climax."
That word sent a shiver through me. Boyfriend. Logan. I hammered that into my head. He was going to be home in two weeks.
We walked farther into the dark with only the emergency lights glowing at equal intervals along the hall. “You have to admit, this would be a perfect place to?—”
Rob turned sharply to face me, his expression shifting from sarcastic amusement to something more sincere. More intense. “To what?”
I swallowed hard. “To murder me.” My breath caught, and I felt my skin prickle beneath my jacket. "I was kidding.”
His jaw flexed. "Hurting you isn’t a joke to me."
I couldn't move. My limbs were frozen in place as I stared into his eyes. His skin was darker than Logan's, and in the dim light, he looked like a sculpture, shadows drawing out the lines of his cheekbones, the curve of his bottom lip.
My mouth went dry. "I think it’s easier to joke about it than accept that it could happen." Rob knew better than most since he’d come to my rescue in the square.
“I would never hurt you.”
"I know."
He stood still for a moment, then nodded once. “Good.”
Rob led me into the room at the end of the hall. "Janitorial perks," he said, pushing the door open.
He flicked on the light, and I was hit with sensory overload. The room was packed to the brim with junk. Not just any junk, though. It was like a graveyard of university history. Costumes, banners, float pieces, and decorations from events past.
I stepped inside, accosted by the smell of old fabric, paint, and dust.
The first thing that caught my attention was a mangy mascot costume. It looked like it used to be a bear, but now it was more of a sad, matted rug. The head was propped up on a shelf, its eyes staring blankly at me. "Wow. Not creepy at all.”
Rob grinned. "We used that for a prank once. On one of our coaches."
“Okay, speaking of coaches, who’s the new guy?”
He thought for a moment. “Coach Wilson?”
“Is that his name?” I moved past the nightmare bear and saw a piece of a float that had clearly seen better days. It was painted to look like a giant slice of pizza, but the colours were faded, and there were chunks of foam missing. "Please tell me that was for a parade and not some weird engineering project."
Rob shook his head. "I have no idea." He lifted an old sign and inspected the lettering.
“So Coach Wilson, what’s his job?” I tried to be nonchalant even though I was dying to get something juicy for Maddie. We’d seen him a few times during the invitational, but she still hadn’t gathered the courage to talk to him.
“Defence. But mostly compliance.”
I frowned. “Like academics?”
Logan nodded. “A lot of guys are failing.”
“Hmm. Is he married?”
Rob raised an eyebrow. “Why, you interested?”
I scoffed. “No, I just wondered if he had a family here. If he’d be sticking around.”
I unrolled what looked like an old concert poster. It was from a musical production put on by the university's drama department. The edges were tattered, and the signatures from the cast were faded, but I could still make out a few names.
“He hasn’t mentioned anyone, but it’s not like I interview my coaches about their relationship status.”
I shot him a look. “I don’t know why not.”
Rob flipped me off, and I gave him a cheesy grin.
I walked to a clothing rack with hangers full of costumes. "This room is like a time capsule. I feel like there has to be a magical wardrobe.”
“Doubtful, but come over here.”
I crossed the room to find the Mecca of holiday cheer. Over the next twenty minutes, we dug through the clutter, unearthing plastic bins filled with garlands, ornaments, and wreaths. Rob found a bag, and we started filling it with our finds.
"Check this out." He held up a string of old-fashioned lights, the kind with huge bulbs.
"Retro chic." I laughed. "Perfect. Now all we need is a Charlie Brown Christmas tree."
Rob's eyes lit up. "Hold on." He disappeared behind a stack of boxes and emerged a moment later, holding a four-foot pink tree.
"No. Way." I clapped my hands. "That’s amazing."
He grinned. "It’s either this or a fig tree I spotted over there." He pointed to the far corner.
“This’ll do.” We loaded up our bag, then hauled everything back to the house. By the time we were done decorating, the living room looked like Christmas had exploded. Garlands draped over the mantle, ornaments hung from the tree, and the retro lights made it all look a little bit like a festive patio cafe.
I stood back and admired our handiwork, a smile tugging at my lips. "It's perfect."
Rob didn’t say anything. I turned to find him watching me. I clapped my hands behind my back. “Well, I should get to bed."
"Yeah, me too." He started to turn, then paused. “Wait, can I—?” He pointed to my room.
I started nodding, then did a double take toward Rob’s room. “Wait, I slept through the plumber action. Is it not fixed?”
Rob stepped past me. “It’s fixed. Which is why—” He stopped mid-sentence and ducked into my room, then returned a few moments later with his hands full. “I needed to grab these.”
He held all his toiletries. His body wash, shampoo and conditioner, and his toothbrush and toothpaste. “I’ll officially be out of your hair.”
“Hmm. Finally.”
Rob gave a half smile, then walked to his room. I waited until his door was closed to release the breath I was holding.
_____
For the week before Christmas, I assisted Rob on his janitorial shifts just for something to do. He had optional conditioning for hockey a few times a week, and on his off days he hit the gym. He invited me once, and when I laughed in his face, he didn’t bother bringing it up a second time. I wasn’t opposed to a good workout, but doing it in front of Rob? Hell, no.
I used my free time to learn some music I’d always wanted to try, but had never made time to do it. Rob would sometimes come to the practice rooms with me and read. It was nice to have an audience. To feel like he actually enjoyed listening and wasn’t just there to flatter me.
I also started going to Outlaws practices. I'd bring a book and sit in the stands, but I never got much reading done. It was too hard to concentrate.
On the twentieth, I got an email from Logan. My heart skipped a beat when I saw his name in my inbox along with the constant strings of messages I sent with Crystal and Maddie. I clicked on it, then waited for it to load.
Shar! I’ve been having a blast here. We just visited the arc of triumph (not sure how to spell it in french) and the view from the top was insane. We hiked up a million stairs to get there, but it was worth it. Also, I tried snails. They were slimy, but when in France, right? Next, we're heading to Switzerland for a week, four bracket tourney. You’d love it here. The food is incredible. The teams play a little different here but it’s been good to mix up our defensive strat. I scored two goals in our game last night. Pumped about that! Hope you’re loving time with your family. Merry Christmas.
L
I stared at the screen. That was it? One paragraph after radio silence since the third? It had been fifteen days since I’d heard from him.
I pressed the button to reply. My fingers hovered over the keyboard.
That’s awesome!
I deleted that sentence.
Logan, hey
Delete.
Logan,
Okay. Starting point.
Thank you for sending a note! I’m so happy to hear that you’re having fun in Europe!
I paused, biting my lip. I should tell him about my decision to stay at the house for Christmas. He deserved to know. But how much should I tell him? I didn’t want to unload everything on him, but I also didn’t want to keep him in the dark.
I’ve decided to stay at the house for Christmas. I can explain more when you get home.
I deleted that sentence, guilt snagging my middle like a fingernail on pantyhose. I’d spilled my guts to Rob, and Logan was my boyfriend.
I’m actually spending Christmas here at our house. My cousin is staying with my parents right now. The one I told you about. I still feel so angry with my mom for allowing him to be there over the holidays. I tried to talk with her about it, but she doesn’t understand why I can’t be there with him. I can’t do it. So, we decorated for Christmas and I’m going to make the best of it. Sorry. Don’t mean to be a downer.
On a better note, I can’t wait to hear more about your trip! When do you get back? Do you have your flights? I’ll be watching the news for anything World Juniors related!
Sharla
I hesitated, my finger hovering over the send button. Did I really want to send that?
Yes. I exhaled through my nose. I did. If I wanted this to work when he got back, I had to be willing to open up to him. Even if it felt like trying to finish the Saturday crossword.
I hit send, my heart pounding in my chest. It was done.
_____
I loved mornings over break, especially when they smelled like pancakes. My stomach grumbled. It was a Pavlovian response.
The last time I had pancakes, Logan made them. My heart picked up speed. Why was Rob making pancakes? I kicked off my covers and walked into the washroom. My eyes were still not quite back to normal. I had a new crease showing up between my brows.
I washed my face and brushed my teeth, then threw on a sweatshirt and joggers and walked out to the kitchen.
Rob stood at the stove, flipping the last pancake onto a plate. He looked up. “Morning.”
I took in the carton of blueberries and the zested lemon next to the cutting board. “You made . . .” I trailed off, my eyes shifting to the stack of pancakes. They were perfect. Golden brown. “Did Logan give you the recipe?”
Rob’s brow furrowed. “Recipe? I didn’t use a recipe. I just made them the way I always do.”
I stared at him, my brain trying to process the information. Rob made blueberry pancakes? The same blueberry pancakes that Logan had made for me the morning before he left?
I sat down on a stool, my thoughts swirling. “What else?”
Rob moved the pan from the burner and turned off the stove. “There’s butter in the fridge?—”
“No.” I placed my hands on the countertop. “What else did you do that I thought was Logan?”
Rob put a pancake on his plate, his brow furrowed. “Logan wanted that morning to be special for you. He asked me to make these?—”
“But he never told me you made them. He let me believe it was him.”
Rob shrugged. “I’m sure he wanted to impress you.”
“Taking credit for something you didn’t do isn’t impressive.” I took a pancake and drizzled it with maple syrup, then picked up the fork next to my plate and cut a piece. I didn’t take a bite. Instead, I let the fork rest on the edge of the plate and stared at the table.
My chest tightened. I didn’t want to think about it. I didn’t want to believe that the things I’d thought were special between me and Logan were just . . . orchestrated.
“You were the one washing out my water bottles.”
Rob reached for the syrup. He cleared his throat. “I was doing dishes anyway.”
“Yeah, but it meant a lot more to me than that,” I murmured, finally putting the pillowy soft bite into my mouth. I sighed, the lemon and blueberry exploding over my tongue. So good.
I wanted it to be Logan. All of it. Because if it was Logan, then the last year of my life made sense. And if it wasn’t . . .
I took another bite. “You might as well just tell me now.”
Rob shrugged. "He asked for a favour, and I did it. No big deal."
No big deal. I looked up at him, my mind racing. "How many other ‘favours’ have you done for him?"
Rob set his fork down, crossing his arms over his chest. "You're making it sound like some kind of conspiracy."
"Why would you do it? Just help him like that? When you knew you wouldn’t get the recognition?” I stabbed another piece of pancake. “I’ve been thanking him for the water bottle for the last six months, and he didn’t say a word.”
Rob swirled a piece of pancake in the syrup, leaving trails of bruised indigo in the maple. "You know why.”
I slowly chewed and swallowed. “No, I don’t.” My eyes landed on the letter again. Still sitting on the counter. New Year’s.
“He gave me a place to live. Pretty sure I can live with no recognition for my dishwashing.”
I considered this, but the twist in my gut didn’t go away. Logan wasn’t honest with me . . . or was he? I didn’t exactly thank him out loud. It had all been in my head, and the one time I did bring the water bottles up, he didn’t know what I was talking about.
Maybe he was just that clueless. Or maybe I was making up stories in my head?
I slumped over my plate. "Am I going to find out that Logan doesn’t do his own laundry? Or that you would give me a ski lesson, not him?”
Rob chuckled. “I don’t do his dirty-ass laundry. But the skiing.” He looked up. “You don’t know how?”
I waved my hand, dismissing the thought. "Not really. I went once when I was a kid. School field trip. He said he would take me for a lesson this winter." I chewed on the inside of my cheek. "Maybe he still will when he gets back."
Rob’s expression said, “Good luck with that.”
I leaned back in my chair. "You know something I don't?"
Rob shook his head. "No, but you know what his schedule is like. We’ll be up to our necks in practices and games, and Logan has some catching up to do with his classes.” He took his last bite of pancake. “Maybe just don’t get your hopes up.”
Hopes. That word was laughable. They had slowly been crushed one by one over the past month. Add this one to the list.
Rob picked up another pancake. "I don't have any plans today."
I looked up from my plate. "And?"
He poured a bit more syrup on his plate. "I used to be a ski instructor. We could go to COP. It's not Banff, but it's close, and they have rentals. Douglas students get a free one-day lift ticket every semester." He set the jug down and met my eyes. “You could still give Logan credit.”