I finish another set, dropping the weight to the mat with more force than necessary. “If you’re here to bust my balls, you—”
“You missed your tee time at Desert Mountain.” He meets my eyes in the mirror, arms crossed. “When’s the last time you skipped a practice round?”
Never. The answer is never, but I’m not giving him the satisfaction. I reach for my towel, swiping my face again.
“Alright, talk to me.” Rory leans against the squat rack. “What’s going on?”
I move to the bench press, lying back and gripping the barbell. “Nothing to talk about.”
“Bullshit. You’ve been a walking storm cloud since the press conference. And don’t tell me it’s about your tie for nineteenth last week, because we both know you’ve bounced back from worse.”
He’s right, damn it. My game’s been solid lately, not spectacular but consistent. It’s everything else eating me alive. I press the weight up, muscles burning. “Don’t.”
“Look, anyone who watched that press conference could tell you were shooting straight.” His voice softens as he moves behind the bench to spot me. “The rumors will die down. And the foundation will get the attention it deserves. Give it time.”
He sounds like my mom when I told her I was learning to be patient. What a joke. I’ve been about as patient as a kid on Christmas morning. If this is me learning patience, I’m failing spectacularly.
“You know what the worst part is?” I grumble, lowering the bar to my chest before pressing it back up. “The foundation is actually making a difference. We’ve got twelve kids lined up for the first round of scholarships. Twelve kids who wouldn’t have had a shot otherwise.”
I finish my reps, rack the bar, and remember the applications the staff sent me last week to review. “There’s this kid in Detroit whose mom works three jobs just to keep him in junior tournaments. Another one in rural Georgia whose grandfather drives him four hours each way to get decent instruction. Real kids with real talent who just need someone to believe in them.”
Rory opens his mouth, but I’m on a roll.
“And instead of talking about that, instead of getting people excited about changing lives, those assholes want to gossip about who I’m supposedly sleeping with.”
“Jenna’s feature came out. Obviously, the people who need to hear about it are listening if applications are coming in.”
I grip the bar again.
“Seems like what you’re actually sore about is the fact Leah might think the rumors are true.”
I grit my teeth through another set, my chest burning. “If you were her, wouldn’t you think there might be a grain of truth to them?”
“You don’t know what she’s thinking because she’s sticking to the rules you agreed to.”
“Rules went out the window when I started sending birthday presents.”
“Did they? Because from where I’m standing, it looks like she’s keeping her end of the bargain.”
The possibility she’s still holding to our agreement, still waiting for me to win that major, sends a different kind of ache through my chest. Hope mixed with something that feels dangerously close to desperation.
I rack the weights and jump up, pacing by the windows. “I can’t stop thinking about her, Rory. It’s been forever, and I still wake up dreaming about kissing her. Craving the way she felt in my arms. How she looked at me like she could see right through me.”
“Which is exactly why you need to get your head back in the game.” Rory moves closer, his tone shifting. “Speaking of which, I came by because next year’s schedule just came out.”
“And?”
“The U.S. Open’s going to be interesting.”
I barely glance at him. “When isn’t it? It’s a major.”
“Except, next June, it’s being held at Starlight Bay Country Club.”
The words punch the air from my lungs. I spin to face him so fast I nearly lose my balance. “What?”
“Harbor course.” Rory’s grin is slow and knowing. “Father’s Day weekend.”
My heart hammers against my ribs as if it wants to escape. Father’s Day Weekend. Starlight Bay. The place where this allstarted, when I met the love of my life on a dinner cruise in the harbor that’s visible from the eighteenth fairway.
