Page 71 of Kings Don't Break

A confused laugh bursts out of me. “Where are you taking—Blake!”

I’ve barely managed to pull the beanie off when I’m finding myself in front of a game stall. He’s situated me in one lane and himself in the other. The game operator’s already accepted cash in exchange for our turn.

I read the sign.

Shoot Santa’s Reindeer.

A game where we aim fake rifles at the moving reindeer targets and shoot as many of them as possible in under two minutes. A game we’ve played many times in the past.

“How festive,” I say with a disbelieving smile and shake of my head.

Blake winks at me. “We used to love this game. Still think you’re any good?”

“We? You mean you—it was one of the few games you beat me at.”

“There it is,” he says, the slightest twang in his voice. His eyes look over at me, shining a shade of blue more vivid than a sapphire. “There’s that cockiness Korine McKibbens is known for.”

“Cockiness? Me? You must be talking about yourself.”

“You climbed that tree all wrong,” he mimics, making me laugh and roll my eyes. “I can climb it better than you.”

“Well, I did, didn’t I?” I step up to my side of the counter and pick up the rifle that’s not really a rifle but a water gun. “And you did climb that tree all wrong.”

Blake says nothing, focusing on his own lane. He props his rifle up against his sturdy shoulder and takes aim. But even at a quick glance I can tell he’s eating this up; he’s loving how he’s gotten a reaction out of me, making me play along.

An old fire ignites inside me. My competitive edge that normally had us trying our hardest to beat each other. It had been a common thread throughout our childhood. While we became the best of friends, that didn’t mean we didn’t want bragging rights whenever facing off.

As the only girl in our friend group, I always had something to prove. Blake always treated me as an equal, never letting me win, always putting his best game forward like he would any of the boys.

It’s what I wanted—I didn’t want his pity, or for him to let me win. I wanted to earn it myself.

Still do.

Blake welcomes the challenge. He accepts when he loses. He admits when I’ve bested him. Almost like he’s proud I have. It’s not a threat to his masculinity because he’s secure in it, appreciating when I show that spark he says he loves so much.

Ken would be the opposite. If he were here right now, I’d have to lose. Any other result and he’d be pissed. He’d recede into stanch silence for the rest of the day ’til he exploded at night. He’d tell me I was trying to humiliate him like he did that time at a bank where I corrected him about something as small as a miscalculation he’d made. He hadn’t even waited ’til we got home that time—my mouth was throbbing in pain in the front seat of his Escalade after the wallop he’d given me…

When the game operator announces we’re about to begin, I’m still deep in these bad memories. I snap to attention right as the buzzer goes off, and Blake launches into his first round of shots.

Crap, I’m behind!

My competitive spirit pushes me. I focus on the reindeers sliding in and out of my line of vision and squeeze the trigger.

A small crowd gathers behind us. I know because, as I fire away, I can hear their entertained chatter. They cheer at any targets hit whether it’s me or Blake. Luckily, I manage to tune them out as I fire away at the reindeers.

The time’s up before I’m ready for it to be. We lower our rifles with fast-beating hearts and look to the operator for the verdict. He counts up the results and then gestures to Blake’s lane.

“Lane one wins!”

Blake beats a fist in the air in celebration. The audience we’ve acquired applauds him. I feel the sting of loss but a part of me also looks forward to the shit-talking that’s about to happen.

Sure enough, as Blake collects the voucher that’s his prize, he heads straight to me with a triumphant expression on his frustratingly handsome face.

I roll my eyes. “Talk your smack, Blake. You won.”

“Love hearing those two magic words from those pouty lips.”

His tease warms my skin. He catches himself a split second later, clearing his throat and grabbing my hand to lead me to our next stop. The voucher he won buys us brats and Cokes to snack on.