Page 61 of The Perfect Putt

Maybe he’s nervous. Yes, that’s why he’s so tense. Plus, it’s not like I’ve been very touchy-feely with him in the past. It could have caught him off guard.

He turns to face me and the expression on his face confuses me. His jaw is tight, and his mouth is set in a hard line. Even his eyes are different. They aren’t sparkling or playful. They’re dark and unyielding.

“Is everything okay?” I ask him and for a second his expression softens, but it’s quickly back to stone right after.

“I need to tell you something, and it’s not easy for me.”

I reach out and touch his arm in an attempt to soothe him.

“It’s okay,” I say with a small smile. “You can tell me anything.”

A pained expression overtakes his face.

“No, it’s not like that.” He pushes both his hands through his hair. “Why is this so hard?” he mutters under his breath.

My heart melts. He must be so nervous he doesn’t know how to act.

“Miles, it’s okay, I feel the same way.” I didn’t want to be the first to say it, but maybe if I take the risk he’ll feel comfortable taking it too. “I have feelings for you too. I know it’s hard for you but–”

He shakes his head and the words die in my mouth. His eyes are lined with pain, as dark and tumultuous as the sea.

“No,” he grits out and I feel my heart crack. “That’s not what I came to tell you.”

“What?” My voice breaks.

“I came to say I’m sorry, but I think we need some space.” I swallow, trying to fight the stinging in my eyes as he continues. “You’ve become a distraction, and I-I think it would be best if you didn’t come to the tournament.”

“Is this about your dad? Did he force you into this?”

“No, this is my decision. I need to focus on winning.”

His words feel like a physical blow. I take a step back and shake my head.

“This doesn’t make any sense. You’ve been flirting with me, and we’ve spent so much time together lately. At the golf course and here at the beach.” My words are tumbling out of me. I’m not sure if I’m even coherent because I can’t think. None of this is adding up.

“I’m sorry if you misinterpreted–”

“No.” I cut him off, anger shooting up like a flare gun within me. “Do not try to make me think this wasn’t what I thought. You took care of me, my favorite drinks are in your fridge, you gave me your sweatshirt. We shared our dreams,” I whisper the last line, feeling hollow and broken.

He looks as broken as I feel, which makes everything worse. Why is he doing this if it’s hurting him too?

“This is for the best, Ellie. You’ll see.”

I meet his gaze, tears streaming down my face, the harsh winds drying them quickly. “Is this what you really want?”

He looks off toward the waves. His throat bobs as he swallows. “Yes.”

“Then consider this my two weeks' notice.”

His head whips back toward me. “What about saving for the shop?” His question feels like salt in a fresh wound.

“It’s none of your concern anymore,” I tell him, trying to keep my voice level. “I’ll write an official resignation email tomorrow.” After I finish crying until I’m out of tears.

“Red–” he stops, corrects himself, “Ellie. You don’t have to quit.”

“I do. You know I do.” I take another step back. His eyes are shining and I think I see a tear fall before I turn around. “Good luck at the tournament, Miles. You gave up everything–and everyone–to win. I hope it was worth it.”

He doesn’t call out, doesn’t grab my hand to stop me. With each step away from him my tears come faster. By the time I get to the sidewalk on Wave Way my neck is wet from my trail of tears. I pull out my phone and dial Naomi’s number.

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