Page 15 of Fangirl Down

Wells swiped a gym towel down his sweaty face, tossed it onto the bench press, and took another lap around his home gym. All week, he’d been subjecting himself to grueling workouts. Seven days later, the alcohol was still seeping out of his pores. Apart from the overall need to get himself back into playing condition, he’d been using exercise as a means of distraction. A way to stall. It was now or never, though.

The tournament started in two days and Wells wasn’t yet back on the roster.

He needed to call Buck.

Otherwise, he’d hired Josephine as his caddie for no reason and his new set of clubs had been shipped to the resort in San Antonio in advance of nothing.

“Quit being a coward,” he commanded himself, picking up the towel once more to wipe away the perspiration on his chest. “Make the damn call. What’s the worst that could happen?”

Buck could tell him to fuck off.

Technically, his mentor had already done that. There was nothing to lose here. Nothing but his pride.

Wells stared at his reflection in the wall mirror for long moments, caught off guard by the trepidation in his face. When had he become so indecisive? Before he’d been lauded as the next Tiger Woods, he’d never second-guessed himself. He’d made every decision, even the bad ones, with full confidence.What the hell happened to me?

Wells didn’t know. But apparently when he’d told Josephine that golf had stolen his soul, it wasn’t an exaggeration.

Josephine.

His other reason for distracting himself with exercise.

Women didn’t usually get under his skin. It was fucking annoying, was what it was. Last night, while in the shower, he’d had an imaginary conversation with her. Out loud. Defending his backswing. When he thought of the tournament, she was the first thing that popped up in his mind. How she’d be wearing a caddie uniform with his name on it in big, block letters. And how he liked that image a little too much.

Wells had no time for romantic bullshit. Occasional, casual hookups were part of his bachelor lifestyle, but anything beyond that only led to making plans, enduring long-winded phone calls, and taking on responsibilities he’d never asked for. He’d learned that early on in his career after threeveryshort-term relationships. Being on television, making millions of dollars, had made him something of a magnet for people with a single motive: get a slice of that money pie. Relationships tended to move very quickly in the golf world. Because players were on the road so often, they were pressured into making commitments. To offset the doubt.

Not Wells. Not ever.

The fact that Josephine had been more than happy to wash her hands of Wells altogether—and seemed to kind ofdislikehim—was somewhat... reassuring. Hell, she’d tried to throw him out of her pro shop. She wouldn’t even take his money without working for it. Hedefinitelywouldn’t have to worry that she had some secret plan to make a rich, devoted husband out of him.

Cool.

Great.

Wells realized he was staring at his own thunderous frown in the mirror and shook himself, snatching the phone out of his pocket and pulling up the contact for Buck Lee.

One deep breath and he dialed, hating the way his pulse raced.

Buck answered on the third ring, the older man’s voice as distinct as ever. A soft boom.

“Wells.”

“Buck.”

“I suppose if you’re calling me, you must be alive,” drawled the legend. “The question iswhyare you calling, Wells? We’ve got nothing to say to each other.”

Two years had passed since his mentor had washed his hands of Wells, but the memory still had the ability to sting. “I had no other choice but to call you. I’m asking you to hear me out.”

“Son, if you wanted to quit, you should have gone through the proper channels, instead of lighting on out of there without showing an ounce of respect. There is nothing anyone can do for you now.”

“Now that’s a lie, Buck. You could cancel the tour with a phone call, if you were so inclined.”

His mentor scoffed. “If you think flattery is going to get you anywhere—”

“We both know I don’t flatter anyone. It’s the truth.”

A long sigh on the other end. “What do you want from me? Hurry up, so I can tell you no.”

Panic moved like an ice cube slipping down his spine. “I want back on the tour.”

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