Page 84 of Sweet Spot
“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.
