Page 32 of Summer Ever After
“So he won’t be here long,” Pete says.
“Well, I’m in and out at the hotel, but hopefully, I’ll see you around. Maybe we could even golf the front nine together.”
Yeah, I don’t think so.The entire reason why I’m on this island is so that I can golf alone without anyone watching or judging me. That includes Noah Belacourt.
“That would be fun. Let’s do it,” I say what he wants to hear.
“Sounds good.” Noah taps me on the back. “I’ll let you guys get back to work.”
When he’s out of earshot, Pete looks at me. “Let’s do it?”
“Oh, shut up.” I bite back my smile.
Even Pete knows I have no intention of hanging out with anyone while I’m on this island.
I finishedseven over the course rating.
Seven.
And that was with a few mulligans that no one needs to know about.
Eighteen-year-old Walker would’ve destroyed me today.
I was worse than a toddler playing mini-golf, needing nine putts just to get the ball six inches into the hole.
Luckily, Pete hasn’t disowned me yet. We have another session scheduled for tomorrow and Friday.
A slow, drawn-out breath trickles out of me as I sit in the resort parking lot with my hands on the steering wheel of Stan’s golf cart.
I want to be numb and feel nothing—dead inside—but instead, I feel too much. The disappointment inside weighs me down.
The last time I felt this way was when my dad died, and my mom moved us to Sunset Harbor to live with my grandma. To a fourteen-year-old, my life was over. Not only had I lost my dad, but now I had to start over with friends. I wasn’t mature enough back then to realize my mom had no other choices. I blamed my family for my unhappiness, bottling up my anger in public and projecting it onto my family in private.
Golf helped, though.
It was the one place in my life where I could control things.
My preparation.
My study of a course.
My commitment.
My reaction.
All my control paid off. I was good. No, actually, I wasgreat.
And the better I got at golf, the happier I became.
It wasn’t just a fake show of happiness, either. Golf gave me an outlet I couldn’t find at home.
Now that outlet is gone. I can’t control anything anymore—even my reaction to losing. All I want is to get that kind of happiness back and ease the constant ache in my chest.
A horn honks, rattling me a bit. I glance in the rearview mirror and realize I’m blocking another cart from exiting the parking lot. I push the gas and pull to the side, letting the other golf cart pass. I give a little wave and a forced smile as they go by, even though I’m not in the mood for friendliness.
Belacourt Resort is on the tip of the island, so once I pull out on the main road, I head south back to Stan’s house. Warm wind whips through my hair, gently lifting the visor of my baseball hat.
I’ve always felt more comfortable in a golf cart than in a car. The openness makes it easy to watch the pinkish-purple sky fade into dark navy as the moon takes over.
