Sweet Spot

by Rebecca Jenshak

  He lowers his voice and walks closer. “Then what is it?”

  I shrug one shoulder. “Things are good between us, or at least they are for me. We’re spending lots of time together, and I really like you. I guess I’m wondering what happens when we’re done working together?”

  He rakes a hand through his hair and doesn’t quite meet my gaze. “I’m not sure.”

  The pit in my stomach grows.

  “Come on,” he says, “let’s get you through the qualifier and then you can start thinking about the day you’re gonna be free of me.” He says it teasingly, but I’m hurt that he is so easy to dismiss whatever is going on between us.

  I nod my agreement, and we get started. It’s painful working together the rest of the morning. I go through the motions while Lincoln stands back, seemingly unaffected. Though I know he can tell the difference in me. I’m not exactly subtle about my dark mood.

  “Nice. That looks really good,” he says after my first drive off the back nine. Smiling, he raises his hand to give me a high-five, and I slap my palm against his softly. He captures my fingers, and I meet his gaze. “How’d that feel?”

  Numb is what I think, but I say, “Okay.”

  He doesn’t bring up my sour attitude until I miss the fairway on fifteen. “What’s going on in your head? You’re getting sloppier with each swing. If this is about anything but golf, push it away for later. Next week is it—everything you’ve worked for.”

  “Maybe you can compartmentalize your life like that, but I can’t.”

  “Damn it, Keira, I won’t let you sabotage yourself like this. You can do this, but you can’t break down now. This is it.”

  “And then what? I go pro and live a lonely existence where I never let anyone get close like you do?” I brush past him and put my driver into my bag. I know I’ve gone too far when I turn and see the pain in his eyes. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that.”

  He faces off with me, keeping a few feet between us. “I’ve never lied to you about who I am or what I want.”

  “I know. I just thought somewhere along the way things changed. I guess they only changed for me.” I feel foolish. Not because of my feelings but because I never expected him to not be able to own up to his.

  “Keira—”

  “No. It’s okay. You’re right. This is my fault. I’m days away from the biggest event of my life, and I need to focus. Nothing else matters right now.”

  He nods. “Okay, let’s get back to work then.”

  I unbuckle my golf bag from the cart and sling it over my shoulder. Acceptance, defeat, determination—they each take their turn forcing one foot in front of the other as I realize I’m responsible for what I allow or don’t allow to mess with my head.

  Lincoln was right about one thing; I have to push everything else aside and focus on golf.

  “I think I need to do this on my own.”

  He looks as if he wants to argue, so I say the only thing I can think of to stop him and protect myself. “You’re fired.”

  30

  Lincoln

  “Did you hear what I said?” Kenton asks, and I glance at my laptop.

  “No, sorry, what?”

  He chuckles. “Jesus. What in the hell is going on with you? I’ve never known you to be so disinterested in talking business before. You watching porn or something?”

  “Sorry. Sorry.” I shake my head and force myself to focus on the report we’re supposed to be reviewing. “What was the question?”

  “Doesn’t matter. You don’t really need me to review the business shit. Any questions I come up with are ones you probably already asked.”

  That is usually true, but today I’m not so sure about that, which is why I’d forced him on the phone to talk it out.

  “Keira’s qualifier is coming up, right?”

  “How do you know about that?”

  “Gram.”

  “Ah.” I nod. “Yeah, it’s on Thursday.” I fiddle with the yo-yo on my desk.

  “That’s awesome. If she qualifies, it’ll be great publicity for the company.”

  “That isn’t gonna happen.”

  “Wow, bro, way to have confidence in your mad coaching skills.”

  “Not that. Keira’s fantastic and has a good chance of qualifying, but we aren’t working together anymore.”

  “Oooooh. Shit. I’m sorry. That’s why you look like someone told you golf is for pussies.”

  “She’ll be all right. She’s ready.”

  “Yeah, but what about you?”

  “There’s no shortage of clients. In fact, I might have to hire another golf coach to handle the overflow.”

  “Come on, Linc, you and I both know she wasn’t just some client. Even you aren’t that much of a dumbass to believe that. You like her. She’s different. Gram said you’ve brought her over a few times. The last person you brought to Gram’s was Lacey.”

  “And you know how well that worked out,” I say dryly.

  “Fix it. Whatever you did.”

  “There’s nothing to fix, so drop it, okay? It’s for the best. I’m not looking to get involved beyond a certain point, and I passed that point with her a month ago. She wants things I can’t give her.” Every word burns like acid.

  “Can but don’t want to because Lacey was a giant bitch.”

  “I gave her a lot of reasons to be a bitch. The divorce was my fault. I’m not capable of shutting off work. When I was playing, it was all I thought about. Same with work. Lacey was a distant second. It wasn’t fair, and I won’t do it to Keira.”

  “So, don’t. I’m not telling you to be a selfish prick. I’m telling you to get your shit together and do better. You’re clearly upset about losing her, so do something about it.”

  “I have to jump on another call.”

  He shakes his head slowly. “I just wanna see you happy, bro. So does Gram. It’s why she’s always setting you up on dates. Since you brought Keira around, she moved on to me, and I’m loving it. I don’t even have to leave my house anymore to find chicks.”

  “Oh yeah? She sending you dates in Los Angeles?”

  “Sort of. One of her friends has a granddaughter out here, and they’ve been badgering us to meet up. Anyway, the point is, I’m happy with the setups. Someone else is doing all the work and I just get to date awesome women. Don’t screw this up for me.”

  I laugh. “Good luck with that.” My phone beeps with my next call. “Gotta go.”

  “Later, bro.”

  I click over to Heath. “Hey.”

  “Hey, old man, what’s up?”

  “The usual. What about you? Managing to fill your time since the season’s over?”

  “Eh.” His response is about what I’d expect for bringing up their season ending. They finished with a brutal loss in the conference championship.

  “I have a couple of camps looking for coaches again this summer, including Deerwood. You did a great job for them last year.”

  “When would I have to decide? I’m hoping to get invited to the Coyotes developmental camp in July.”

  I sit up straighter. “Yeah? Wow, Heath, that’s awesome.”

  “Well, I haven’t been invited yet, but Coach Meyers thinks it’s likely.”

  “That’s really cool. Best news I’ve had all week.” I make a note to look for some other guys I can recommend to the camp should Heath not be available. “I can probably hold Deerwood off on finalizing staff until the end of the month.”

  “’Preciate it.”

  I can usually count on Heath to carry our conversations with his usual antics, but he seems to have as much on his mind as I do, and we wade through the usual business stuff in less than ten minutes.

  “What else is new?” I ask before he can push me off the phone. “Still managing to show up to class?”

  “They haven’t kicked me out yet, so I guess I’m doing okay.”

  “That’s encouraging.”

  “I’m kidding. Geez. Yes, grades are good. Eve
rything is good. Next year, are you and Nathan gonna get off my case?”

  “Not likely.”

  “Didn’t think so. Well, on that note, I gotta go. I’m going to a party where there’ll be booze . . . lots and lots of booze and opportunities for all sorts of shady decisions.”

  “Stay out of trouble.” I can’t help but add the one last order. “Where are you heading tonight?”

  He hesitates a second, probably because I never ask specifics. “Why? Are you planning to stop by to check in on me, old man?”

  “Just making polite conversation.” And wondering if he’s going somewhere that he might run into Keira, but I’m certainly not telling him that. I don’t even want to admit it out loud to myself.

  He laughs and disconnects without answering, and I spend the next few hours taking one call after another. When I’m finally able to toss my phone onto the desk and breathe a sigh of relief, I look up at the boxes from the storage unit lining the far wall in my office.

  I’m tempted to throw all of it into the dumpster just to be rid of it, but I know there are probably a few mementos from my childhood I’d be sad to lose.

  I stand and cross the room. I can’t feel any worse, right?

  Wrong. I pull back the flaps on the closest box and stare down at an eleven by fourteen framed photo of my wedding day. A young, happy couple stares back at me. Lacey’s smile is big and genuine as I bend her backward in a kiss-the-bride pose. God, we look so happy and totally unaware of the shitstorm that lies ahead.

  And that’s why I need to let Keira stay pissed at me. She has her whole life ahead of her, a golf career and love. I choke on the last word, already bitter picturing her with someone else. She deserves it all.

  My phone vibrates on the desk and I ignore it as I let the flaps fall closed and walk out of the office. I don’t let my mind wander to what other treasures might be waiting for me in those boxes. I don’t answer clients. I don’t beat myself up over the work I should be doing instead of crawling into bed. I don’t question it when I close my eyes and inhale her faint scent.

  And I don’t call Keira, though that one is much harder than all the others.

  31

  Keira

  After our practice on Tuesday, a local reporter stops by the campus course to talk with Cassidy. Erica stands beside me as we watch Coach beam with pride next to Cass as she’s being interviewed about her invitation to the amateur championship.

  “You’d think they were recognizing him.” I don’t have to look at her to know she’s rolling her eyes.

  “Yep. I’m sure he’s figuring out a way to make it all about him.”

  We grab our bags to head out. “Are you coming over tonight for Cass’s party?”

  “I can’t. I’m heading up to Scottsdale as soon as I pack.”

  “Oh, right. The sectional qualifier is this week.”

  “Yep. It’s Thursday, but I have an early morning practice round on the course tomorrow.”

  “I wish I could come watch. You’re gonna kill it, you know that, right?”

  “I wish I had your confidence. Practice this week has sucked.”

  “You’re just in your head. When you get there and your handsome coach is by your side, you’ll get your confidence back.”

  Thinking of Lincoln makes my heart hurt. I haven’t told the girls we aren’t working together anymore. If I did, they’d want to talk about it, and I definitely don’t want to talk about it—at least not this week. Next week, I’ll let them take me out, and I’ll word vomit all my feelings. But not yet.

  “Keira Brooks?”

  I turn to find the reporter walking toward me.

  “Um, yeah, that’s me.”

  “I’m Ernie with the Valley Daily Newspaper. Do you have a few minutes? I’d love to talk to you about your season.”

  “Sure.” I look from him to Erica.

  “See ya later, superstar.” She nudges my side and shoots me a big smile.

  Ernie goes straight into his questions. “Congrats on your season. You’ve had a great showing recently with the win last month and a second place finish two weeks ago in Texas, how are you feeling?”

  “I feel . . .” Heartbroken. Annoyed that I’m heartbroken. Determined. “I feel good.”

  “Rumor has it you’re heading to the sectional qualifier in Scottsdale this week. Any truth to that?”

  “Yes, I am.” I force a big, excited smile.

  “How have you been preparing for an event of this magnitude?”

  “Wow. I don’t know.” My heart thumps wildly as I scramble for something coherent to say. “I’ve been focusing on taking each moment as it comes. Lots of practice and visualization to think through different scenarios.”

  Coach Potter walks up as I’m finishing my answer.

  Ernie looks to him. “Keira was just telling me how she’s preparing for this weekend. You must be pretty proud to have so many talented girls on your team this year. One headed to the amateur championship and another making a run for the US Open. Pretty exciting for Valley U golf.”

  “Yeah, of course. I’m extremely proud of Cassidy and of Keira too. It’s brave of her to enter and get the experience. People are going to see a real difference in how far she’s come this year.”

  My face heats at his wording. The pseudo compliment is his way of trying to take credit for Lincoln’s work, which is total bullshit. He might as well tell this reporter I don’t have a shot in hell of winning.

  “You’ve done great work with them, Coach.” He extends a hand, and I bite my tongue as they shake and say goodbye.

  After Ernie leaves, Coach walks off without so much as a good luck to me. Screw him. I don’t need him or his support.

  I’m still seething as I get back to my dorm. Abby left a note wishing me good luck on my desk with a new box of Pop-Tarts. I dig into them as I pack my bag and that lifts my mood some.

  I’m on autopilot as I drive up to Scottsdale and nearly make the turn to Lincoln’s apartment without thinking. I miss him and I’m so freaking mad at him.

  The hotel near the course is busy when I arrive. I spot a few golfers I know and others I just recognize as I make my way through the lobby and up to my room.

  Once I’m settled, I call my mom.

  “Hey, honey,” she answers. “How are you?”

  “Fine. Nervous. I’m playing the course tomorrow morning to get a feel for it.”

  “I know. Well, it slipped my mind but it’s on the calendar and your dad sent me a text a little bit ago to make sure I remembered. The man doesn’t have an organized bone in his body except when it comes to tracking your golf schedule. We’re really proud of you, honey.”

  “Thanks, Mom.”

  I expel a breath and a little of the tension.

  “Want me to sing to you like I did when you were little and scared to sleep in your own room? Do you remember that? I’d sing Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star.”

  “And then I’d make you do it over and over again in different funny voices.”

  We both laugh into the phone.

  “Good luck tomorrow, Keira. I love you.”

  After we hang up, I order room service and turn on the television for noise. I’m too scatterbrained to focus on anything for long. The time passes as I alternate scrolling through my phone and flipping through channels. I ignore the part of me that wants to call Lincoln knowing he’d be able to soothe and comfort me in that way only he can.

  I go to bed at eight, but I see every hour, dozing only in short increments before waking in a panic that I’d somehow overslept.

  Needless to say, I’m tired during Wednesday’s practice round. I take the course at a slow pace, trying to figure out the best way to play each hole. My anxiety grows with each swing, and by the time I make it back to my room, I’m a mess.

  My phone rings, and Lincoln’s name on the screen makes my weak heart race. I’m too tired to be angry.

  I take a deep breath and force myself to wait until the third r
ing to answer. “Hello?”

  “Hey.” His deep voice rumbles, and I close my eyes, trying to fight off the emotions it stirs in me. One word, and it all comes crashing back. I want to be mad, but it’s really a deep hurt and sadness I feel without him.

  “How are you feeling?” he asks sounding upbeat and optimistic. “Ready for tomorrow?”

  “I think so.”

  The awkwardness that hangs between us is unfamiliar and painful.

  “You’re gonna be great. Just go out there and have fun.”

  Fun.

  I haven’t had a lot of that over the last few days. For a guy who’s so serious and work-focused, Lincoln became a big part of the joy and excitement I’ve had playing recently. Loving golf and having fun while playing haven’t always gone together for me.

  It’s silent again while I struggle with what to say. I don’t want there to be this weirdness between us. I respect him too much, and he gave me a lot. Too much and not enough.

  “Thank you for everything. I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for you. I hope I can do your coaching justice.”

  “You already have. It was my absolute pleasure, Keira.” He sighs into the phone, and I can picture him running his fingers through his dark hair. “I just wanted to wish you luck and let you know that I’ll be rooting for you. Gram too. She asked me to bookmark the live scoring website so she can follow along.”

  “She did?”

  “Yeah, you made quite an impression on her. Keira, I . . .” He curses lightly away from the phone and then clears his throat. “I should let you get some sleep.”

  Disappointment and resolution center me, and I finally feel like sleeping. “Yeah, okay. Thanks for calling, Lincoln.”

  Ending the call, I curl into a ball on top of the scratchy comforter and fall asleep, wishing Lincoln’s arms were wrapped around me. When my alarm goes off early the next morning, I rise like the dead, shower, and get ready.

  Conditions aren’t great today. It’s sunny, but dark clouds in the distance threaten rain. It’s also hot and muggy, making it hard to breathe. But I can’t let that stop me. I’ve done all the work. Today is about battling my head. There’s no room to wish or hope for any aspect of my life to be different.