Page 28 of My Ex for Christmas
Brooks goes first, throwing his three darts in quick succession. Two of the three hit the bullseye and the third isn’t so far off.
“Show-off,” I mumble.
There’s a twinkle in his eyes as he turns to me. “Your turn, sweetheart.”
I come to stand approximately where Brooks threw from. Widening my stance, I draw my arm back and then let the dart go flying. It dodges the dartboard and impales the wall, joining the pockmarks from others’ failed attempts.
I throw my other two after that, the results much the same.
“Alright, so we’ll need to focus on aim,” he says teasingly.
I turn to glare at him. “You don’t have to enjoy this so much.”
His lips twitch as he tries not to smile. “Sorry.”
Brooks retrieves our darts and again, he throws his almost perfectly. And again, my first throw is utter garbage.
I resist the urge to stomp my foot. “Ugh,howdo you do this so well?”
“Let me show you.”
This time, I do let him. One of his hands lands on my hip to keep me steady and the other covers my grip, guiding it to the proper throwing position. He pulls our arms back, winding up, before I release the dart. It doesn’t quite hit the bullseye, but it’s a lot closer than my other tries have been.
Now that the dart is thrown, I become very aware of our proximity. We’re close.Tooclose. My breath hitches, and I can feel my heart galloping in my chest.
No.
I can’t go down that road again. Not after realizing this morning how much my leaving still affects him. As much as I miss Brooks, he and I want vastly different things. I’ve been too distracted by him to remember that. Once the resort’s grandopening is through and we have our new manager, I won’t be here anymore.
I’ll be leaving.Again. It wouldn’t be fair to him if I started something I won’t be around to finish.
So I take one step back, and then another. His arms fall away, and he clears his throat. A moment of tense silence passes between us, the illusion of our rightness together vanishing.
“Thank you,” I say quietly.
He nods. “Anytime.”
From outside, I hear a rumbling coming down the road. Crossing to the window, I look out just in time to spot my favourite piece of heavy machinery. A snow plow.
Time to make my great escape.
“Looks like the roads are clearing up,” I say.
Brooks stops beside me. “Looks like it.”
“I’ll, uh, go get changed. Thank you for lending me your clothes.”
I hand the remaining darts back to Brooks, and then I scurry up to his apartment like the coward that I am. After I’m dressed, I meet him downstairs. He follows me out to my car, a shovel in tow.
With the heat cranked, I sit behind the wheel as Brooks dutifully digs me out of the snowy turnout. Although the road has been cleared, the parking lot is still covered.
He steps back, leaning against the handle of the shovel. I wave.
And then I drive away.
CHAPTER 11
HADLEY
