Page 71 of Sweet Spot
Coach Potter waits at the first par three, but his words don’t even register. Part of not letting him negatively impact me anymore means I can’t let him positively impact me either. So, I tune him out and focus on everything Lincoln’s been telling me for weeks.
On the tenth hole, I hit a beautiful stinger that gets a lot of cheers. The girl I’m paired with steps up to take her turn, obviously shaken and in her head. I’m intimidating, who knew?
My heart beats wildly, and every step closer to the final hole feels a little more like I’m walking on a cloud. As I walk to eighteen, the crowd follows alongside me, and it sinks in. I’m leading. It’s early, there are still a few groups to finish today and I have to get through tomorrow, but I’m freaking on top. Byfive.
A pang of something hits me. Lincoln. Lincoln knew. I glance over at the sidelines, hoping to see his dark head among the spectators. It’s silly. I know he isn’t here, but I wish he were anyway.
Abby catches my eye and waves. Her other hand is linked with Smith’s, and they are wearing matching smiles that tell me they’re proud of me. Keith and the rest of the guys are here too. I wait for it to fill me with the same burst of pride I get when Lincoln smiles at me, but it doesn’t come.
It isn’t just because of how much I respect him; though, that certainly helps, it’s because I know he gets it. This hunger inside me to succeed. He’s been in my shoes, and he knows what this feels like and what it’s going to take to make it.
With my final putt on eighteen, I stand, ball in hand, and wave. Coach Potter grins like he’s suddenly a proud and involved member of my success. I walk right past him and hug Abby hard. If it weren’t for her, I wouldn’t have this moment. We may not want the same things, but she’s here and she believes in me.
My dad didn’t want to try to crutch his way through so it’s a little bittersweet playing in Valley without him here, but I know he’ll be proud too.
“Oh my God, that was amazing.” Abby refuses to let me go, squeezing me so hard I have to hold my breath.
“All right, babe, let her go, she’s gonna pass out from lack of oxygen,” Smith says.
“Sorry.” She steps back. “I’m so proud of you.”
“Thank you.” I’m grinning so widely that my cheeks hurt.
“Congrats,” Keith says and offers his fist for me to bump. The rest of the guys offer their similar praise.
“Thanks, guys.”
Abby links her arm through mine. “Celebratory dinner, or are you planning to go back to the room to work with your hottie swing coach all night?”
“Hottie?” Smith questions with enough jealousy in his tone that we all laugh.
“We’ll celebrate tomorrowifI win,” I say, nerves already ramping back up. “I wanna swing by my dad’s and tell him all about it. I’m sure he’s going crazy not being here.”
Abby hugs me one last time, and I say bye to the guys and thank them all for coming. I text Lincoln when I get to my car, but by the time I get a pizza and take it to dad’s house, he still hasn’t responded.
“Nice job, sweet pea.” Dad hugs me in the doorway with one arm, the other holding on to his cane. He’s getting around better, but I can tell by the way he hobbles that his knee still bugs him.
I babble on through an entire pizza, excitedly telling him every detail. He listens intently, smiling proudly.
“Did you call your mom? She’ll be dying to hear all about it too.”
“No, not yet. I came straight here. I haven’t even showered yet.”
“I thought I smelled something.” He winks. “Go, call her, and then get some rest. Tomorrow is a big day.”
“Thanks for reminding me. No pressure, right?”
He chuckles softly as I kiss him on the cheek. “Good luck tomorrow, kiddo, not that you need it.”
26
Lincoln
“It was amazing.I was in a zone like I’ve never been before. I hope I didn’t use all my awesomeness today.”
I smile as I lie back on the bed in Kenton’s spare room while Keira tells me about her day. She holds the phone out in front of her face, free hand waving wildly and smile so big it’s contagious. Getting to listen as she relives it is almost as good as it would have been to be there. Almost.
“Did your dad go?”
