Page 18 of Delayed Penalty

The bar is exactlythe same as it was when I was here with Kelly, only this time instead of a million hockey fans it’s more filled with baseball fans. Except, the table in the back corner has the man I’m looking for, surrounded by a couple of his buddies I remember from the first night.

I think one of the guys’ names is Miles, and the other twoI thinkare Rex and Max sitting across the table from Harris. The second I see he’s here, I want to walk over to him, but I’m not sure why exactly. To drink? To hang out? To tell him I broke it off with Peter?

I have no idea, but the next thing I know is I’m walking past the girls standing there ogling them, directly to his table. I can’t think of a single thing to say other than “Still wanna play darts?”

Harris, who’s currently mid-conversation with Rex, stops at the sound of my voice, his eyes immediately snapping to me. I probably look like a wreck carrying my backpack and purse around, but the smile on his face makes me feel like a million bucks.

This is why I came here. Because even when my world is on fire, he makes me feel calm. Unless he’s the one holding the match.

“Sure, but did you take out an insurance policy this time?” he asks with a smirk before standing up. “Or are you just going to make me get into another bar fight?”

“A fucking bar fight?” the guy across from him asks, eyebrows raised in question.

“That’s what the mark was on your cheek. I didn’t believe that you kneed yourself in the chin doing a pull up,” Miles grumbles—at least, I’m pretty sure he’s Miles.

“Yeah.” Harris smirks and points at me. “This one hit a Bandits fan with a dart, and he got a bit mouthy. He didn’t exactly realize who we were and started shit talking hockey… and her, in general.”

“You two are trouble,” Rex says on a laugh.

“It’s just this one, she’s the troublemaker,” Harris says as he stands up and makes his way over to me. “So, what are you actually doing here, because I know damn well it’s not to play darts. Not that I mind or anything, you can use whatever excuse you want to see me. Or don’t use one, I don’t really care either way,” Harris says as he grabs my hand and walks me toward the back where the dart boards are. Grabbing the darts, he offers them to me first, but I just stand there.

“I’m not really sure why I’m here,” I tell him honestly, my eyes falling to my feet.

What am I doing here? I guess I just don’t want to be sad. And now that I just left Peter, I guess I just want someone to make me feel good. The one thing I remember clear as day about Harris is that healwaysmade sure I felt good.

Looking up, I meet his eyes, immediately seeing the concern in them. I mean I’d be concerned too if my ex showed up at a bar and randomly asked to play darts and then proceeds to forget how to communicate like a civilized human being.

“I guess I’m just confused,” he says with a shrug. “It seems like since the last time I’ve seen you that you’ve wanted nothing to do with me. In fact, you’ve made it pretty clear. But you’re here right now, seemingly by yourself and you want to spend time with me? Why?”

“Harris, I… I don’t know how to answer your question because I don’t know myself,” I tell him then turn and face the board and raise my hand to make my first throw.

“Where’s your ring, Avery?” His voice growls as he steps closer to me, and I’m immediately wet from his gravely, possessive tone. Unable to move now that he’s so close, I freeze.

“I took it off,” I whisper.

“That doesn’t answer my question. Where. Is. Your. Ring?”

He’s even closer now, the warmth of his breath on my neck and my hands start shaking.

“I put it on his dresser when I left.”

“Left as in… you went out to get a drink and will be back home soon… or left as in you left him?”

“Option B.”

“Does that mean you’re…” he starts, his voice trailing off.

“Single? Yep. The asshole stood me up then came home drunk and covered in hickies and made me out to be the problem. He can kick rocks.”

“It’s about time. But I guess that still leaves me with my first question,” he whispers. “Why are you here, Avery?”

“I’m tired of being unhappy and for just one night… I want to forget.”

“So, you came here to forget… with me?”

“That’s what it’s looking like.”

“That’s not how this works, Avery, and you know it. If you want something from me… I need you to use your words,” Harris says, his voice almost trembling, his control on the verge of snapping.

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