Chapter 27
Chapter
Twenty-Seven
My chest was full to bursting. I’d curled my hair, shaved, and purchased a new dress for this, and it was one-hundred-percent worth it.
I’d helped build this, and it was stunning.
Since it was the press walkthrough and not the official gallery opening, there were still displays in progress. But our featured artist and student artist sections were pristine.
I stopped in front of Bridet’s newest piece. A massive canvas in deep reds and icy blues, layered with palette-knife strokes that carved motion into the abstract outline of a player racing down the ice. The flex of the stick, the angle of the blades. It made my heart race.
Alice Kemp’s paintings hung in the next section.
I’d seen pictures, but standing in front of them was something else.
Oil on rough-textured board. Creams, golds, sage green, streaks of dark umber slashed like wounds.
My heart twisted because I didn’t want to like it, but I did. It was extraordinary.
I forced myself on to inspect the student work I’d helped select. Two pieces stood out under the lights, and there, beside them, was the triptych. Tash’s triptych.
I beamed at the three distorted figures mid-stride.
Bodies blurring into motion. As compulsive and cutting and brilliant as the first moment I saw them.
None of them knew they’d been chosen yet.
They’d find out with the rest of Calgary when their names showed up in the paper.
Norman would send them an email tomorrow, as well, but he did enjoy a dramatic announcement.
“Proud?” a familiar voice said behind me.
I turned to see Alison Kerr standing at the door. “I’m so happy for them.”
Alison stepped into the room. “You had input on these selections.”
“I did.”
She inspected the pieces, then turned to me and handed me a card. “Call me after graduation. And,” she leaned in, “don’t tell Norman we had this conversation.” She winked and stalked back out of the room.
My head spun, and I almost put out a hand to steady myself, but didn’t want to leave any fingerprints. I crouched instead, dropping my head to my knees for a few seconds. Alison Kerr from Glenbow wanted me to call her after graduation.
I stood, hurrying to the main hall. Where was Logan? I needed to—
I pulled to a stop, remembering why I wasn’t already at his side. He was with his team, and I was having a hard time pretending.
I took a moment to pull myself together, then walked into the main reception area. The Blizzard players were already gathered around the charcuterie table.
Davis Rourke waved when he saw me. “Hey, Logan was looking for you.”
I smiled, flattered that he even remembered who I was. “Hi. So glad you all could come.”
He motioned at the spread. “You did this?”
“I helped, but I can’t take all the credit.”
Another player stepped up. “You’re Crystal?” He shook my hand and introduced himself as Jonas, then glanced around the room. “Logan won’t shut up about you.”
My face heated, and I brushed off the comment. “I doubt that.”
He took a bite of salami. “I’m serious. He’s a little whipped, if you know what I mean.”
A thread of warmth braided through my ribs. Rourke laughed, then pointed out another teammate’s plate, and they moved on just as I spotted Logan at the edge of the room.
His suit was black, tailored. His tie was slate grey. His hair was styled, his face clean-shaven. He stood talking to Norman and a few of the people we’d met in Banff. Laughing, his hands gesticulating.
But when he looked up and saw me? His smile softened, his movements slowed. He said something to the others and started toward me.
“Hey,” he murmured, leaning close.
“Hey,” I said.
“You look incredible.” His eyes flicked down my indigo dress, lingering on the deep V cut. Maddie and I found it on clearance at The Bay earlier that week. It was silky and lightweight and combined perfectly with a pair of Jenna’s heels. I’d never felt so sexy in my life.
“I still can’t get over how good you look in suits.”
Logan’s smile was wolfish as he brushed a hand down my arm. “I missed you.”
He’d been gone on another away tour, and I’d watched every game. I was a glutton for punishment.
He glanced around, then slipped his hand into mine and tugged me toward the back hallway, the one that led to the staff break room and storage.
“Logan,” I whispered. “We can’t—”
“We won’t be long.” He pushed open a small utility door and pulled me in with him.
The second the door shut, his hands were on my waist, lifting me onto a low storage table.
He pushed my already short skirt up and pressed in between my legs.
His mouth met mine with a deep, aching hunger that sent shockwaves straight to my middle.
“I missed you,” he breathed. “Missed this. Missed—”
I shivered, pulling him closer by the lapels of his suit jacket. “You can’t do this to me in public.”
“Then stop looking like that in public,” he whispered back, kissing down my jaw.
My breath stuttered. Maybe I didn’t have to have a conversation with him? Maybe things were fine the way they were. If I left it alone and didn’t overthink it, maybe we could—
“Come over tonight.” He slid his hand up my thigh.
I sighed against his mouth. “I can’t. I have to wake up early for my final.”
“But you’re going home for Christmas.”
I nodded, trying to focus. I was leaving on the sixteenth. “I’ll be back on the twenty-sixth.” I’d thought about cutting my time short, but everyone was going to be home this year, and my parents had planned a huge staycation. Ten days were barely enough time to pack in all our favourites.
Logan’s hands pressed into my back. “Not enough time. We’ll only have what, not even two weeks?”
It was as if he’d injected ice water into my veins. “Logan—” He kissed me again, and I pulled back. “Logan, stop. I need to tell you something.”
He panted, pressing his forehead to mine. “What is it?”
My heart climbed into my throat. Was I going to do this? Was I going to tell him the truth? If I said these words, there was no way to take them back. But that’s what Shar meant, wasn’t it? Her heart living outside of her body? If I wasn’t willing to take the risk, then how could I expect Logan to?
“This isn’t working for me anymore, Logan.”
He frowned, pulling back an inch. “Are you . . . did I mix things up? Is this supposed to be our breakup—”
“No, you didn’t mix anything up.” I put my hand on his cheek.
“It’s not working for me because . . .” Every cell in my body screamed for me to stop there.
To hop off the shelf and make a beeline back to the cheese and sausage.
But then I’d be back to sitting at home watching the game and eating a pint of ice cream, drowning in worry and what ifs. I deserved better.
“I care about you,” I blurted. “I know this whole thing was supposed to be for show, and all of the physical stuff was purely educational, but it’s not fake for me anymore.
” Once I opened up the dam, I couldn’t put the walls back up.
“I miss you when I’m not there at your apartment.
I think about you all the time. When something happens in the studio, the first person I want to tell is you.
You make me laugh, and you make me feel .
. . everything.” I sucked in a breath, my heart thrumming like a rabbit’s.
“I don’t want to have a breakup date. I want this—you and me—to be real. ”
Logan’s eyes were dark, his breathing slow and controlled. “I’d be good with that. We can keep things exactly as they are.”
I shook my head. “No. That’s the thing. I don’t want them exactly as they are.”
“What do you mean?”
My hands went cold. “I mean, I want this to be real, Logan. Not just the fun stuff. We’d need to talk about the things that aren’t working.”
He frowned. “What’s not working? I thought this was good for both of us.”
“No, it is, but there are some things we didn’t need to deal with when it was temporary.”
“Like what?” His voice held an edge, and I knew that look in his eye. It was the same one I’d seen when I pulled him aside near the bathrooms at the Palliser.
“Like the way you shut down and refuse to talk about things when they make you uncomfortable.”
He pulled back fully, frustration sparking in his eyes. “So about my mom? You have to let that go.”
“It’s not only that.”
“Pretty sure it is.” I pushed off the shelf and grabbed his hand, but he pulled it away. Logan continued, “It has nothing to do with you. Nothing to do with me, either. They’re my parents, but they can make their own decisions.”
“No, Logan. The decisions they make affect you! When we’re in relationships, when we love people, we should expect them to be honest. We have to talk about the hard things and fix our mistakes. Otherwise—” I shook my head. “What’s the point? It all might as well be fake.”
His mouth flattened. “You don’t know my family.”
“You’re right, but I know what I’ve seen. What you’ve told me.” I drew a deep breath and pressed my hands to my hips. “What they have . . . it’s not what I want. I don’t want to avoid the topics that are hard. I don’t want to leave things alone because they’re going to make someone mad.”
“So that’s what you think? That because I won’t confront my mom, I’d do the same thing to you?”
My mouth went dry. “I don’t know, Logan. You tell me. What did your exes have to say?” It was a low blow, but I wasn’t getting through to him, and this was the honest truth. Right now, here with me, Logan still didn’t want to take the hit.
His jaw worked, and I half-wished he’d lash out. Tell me I had no right to use that against him, and cut me deep like I’d just cut him.
But he didn’t.
Logan turned and stalked toward the door, then paused before exiting. “I care about you, too,” he murmured. Then slipped into the hall.
It took me a few minutes to follow, my limbs shaky. Grief washed over me in waves. Was that the last time I’d talk to him? Be close to him?
. . . and when that’s not good enough, you get over it and move on. End of story.
Tears pricked my eyes as I wove through the patrons, their laughter and clinking wine glasses muted behind the ringing in my ears.
Norman stood at the front near the podium. “Ladies and gentlemen, I just received news.”
The crowd hushed.
“I’m pleased to share that as of this afternoon,” Norman continued, “the Marcus Arts Foundation has officially secured the full matching grant from the Province of Alberta.”
The crowd gasped, then erupted into applause.
The announcement brushed over me, floating behind as I moved faster through the crowd and escaped through the front doors.