“Me too. It’s better that way.”
We start our first game, and in three consecutive turns, Luke hits a bullseye each time. He doesn’t gloat, but a smug smile tips his lips when he hits a fourth one, and he’s down to only nine points to knock off.
“Why are you so good at this?” I grumble as he marks his score.
He adjusts the sleeves of his jacket nonchalantly. “I’m good at everything.”
I snort. “Whatever.” With my next turn, I knock off thirty-four points but am still only down to seventy-nine. I collect the darts and hand them back over to Luke. “So I know why I didn’t have any plans tonight, but why didn’t you?”
Luke takes a shot and busts. He curses softly before retrieving it from the board. “I don’t know. I’m kind of old to be celebrating New Year’s.”
“Is there an age limit on having fun?” I tease.
“Yep. You’ll hit it soon enough.”
“Seriously,” I say, leaning back against the high top. “Why didn’t you have plans?”
He takes a swig of his soda but looks like he wishes it was something stronger. “I don’t have many friends here. Most everyone I know is still in New York, and it’s not like I’m married anymore and have obligations to go where she would want to.”
That’s the second time he’s mentioned being married before. I eye him curiously, and he reads exactly where my mind is going.
“It’s not some sordid tale.” He perches on a barstool, bringing us eye level. “We were high school sweethearts. She stuck by me through everything and never complained about being second to my love of hockey.”
“So what happened?” I ask carefully.
He sighs heavily and cracks his neck. “I was always so wrapped up in hockey, and she made sure everything else in our life ran smoothly. But when I kept putting off starting a family, I could tell she was growing restless. So when she decided to go back to school to get her marketing degree, I fully supported it. I wanted her to have something she enjoyed doing while I was away doing what I loved.”
“But then I got hurt, and she told me she was going to drop out of her classes so she could help me full time through my recovery. Selfless,” he muses. “The most selfless woman I’ve ever met besides my mom. She was willing to do anything for me, even if that meant giving up something important to her. And I realized that not only was I never going to be the same player I once was, but that I also was never willing in the many years we were together, to do the same thing for her. She spent our entire relationship putting me first, and never once did I do that for her.”
Luke looks down at his feet in shame.
“So after she told me she was going to drop out, I asked for a divorce. I couldn’t let her do it. I couldn’t continue to drain her.”
“Did she see it coming?” I ask.
“No. Not at all. It blindsided her.” He grits his teeth. “I’ll never forget the look on her face.”
“Did you try going to counseling?”
He shakes his head. “She wanted to. I didn’t. It’s like after the incident, I got clarity that I never knew I was searching for. We worked well together, but there was something always…missing I guess, between us. And when I had hockey to focus on, it glossed over those cracks. Without it in my life, I just couldn’t ignore that I didn’t want the future with her that I should.”
I’m not sure what to say, but Luke seems content to sit in silence for a moment.
“We’re on better terms,” he finally says. “I mean, we don’t keep in contact, but I know she’s remarried and sounds like she’s doing well.”
I like the way he speaks about her with nothing but clear respect in his tone. “You clearly loved her very much. To be selfless like that to let her go.” I’ve never been in love before, but I can imagine how hard that must’ve been for him when he realized that love wasn’t enough of a reason to keep them together.
“I did love her, but I’ll always regret wasting so many years of her life when I knew deep down I’d never be able to give her what she wanted.”
“A family?”
“A priority.” He scratches the back of his neck. “I mean, now that I’m officially retired and know there’s no going back to the sport again for me, maybe it could’ve changed things. But I needed time to process it on my own. It still feels like I’mprocessing it sometimes. It wouldn’t have been fair to either of us to drag things along when it wasn’t right.”
“That makes sense.” I take a sip of my drinks and twirl a dart around in my fingers. What a serious turn this night has taken.
Sensing the same thing, Luke nods toward my hands. “That’s enough of that right now. Less talking, more playing.”
“Fair enough.” We reset for another game and each time we change turns, some part of him always brushes against me. His knuckles against the back of my hand, his chest against my back, his shoulder against mine. Each point of contact burns a little brighter than the last, setting me further on edge.
