“I’ll bring the new documents.”
His father nodded, gazing at his baby boy . “I trust you.”
Those three words sat heavily between them.
Zaire held the receiver tighter. “You good, though?”
“I’m alright,” Antwan spoke with just enough excitement in his voice to not alarm his son. “Go be something... Foot on necks and never let up.”
The guard tapped the glass. Time was up.
Zaire hung up the phone and stood there for a moment before stepping away. He wanted to break the glass and hug his father. He wanted to tuck Antwan in his pocket and take him with him. But none of it was possible, so he did the only thing he could.
Zaire nodded at Antwan with a salute that just had to be enough. The small nod felt gigantic. It was a son’s promise.
When he walked out into the sunlight, the weight didn’t lift, it settled in deeper. It reminded him that all the luxury in the world didn’t fill that empty space in his chest. It reminded him that peace wasn’t something he could buy. It reminded him that no matter how clean the green looked on TV, his mind wasn’t clear.
Not with his father sitting behind bulletproof glass, telling him to be free when freedom felt like something Zaire couldn’t touch either.
He got in the car and shut the door. The silence wrapped around him. He rested his forehead against the steering wheel and breathed out.
He didn’t cry, break, or fall apart.
He just sat there, trying to breathe like a man who wanted peace, knowing damn well he didn’t have it.
This was why his swing felt weak.
This was why his focus came and went.
This was why the first tournament would be hell for him.
His mind wasn’t on golf…it was on the father he couldn’t save, and the life sentence he’d been carrying right along with his dad.
Meadow satat the dining table with the stack of mail she had been avoiding all week, staring back at her. Her simple notebook was open but she hadn’t written a thing. There was really no need to. She knew what needed to be paid and which bills she could sprinkle a little money on, just enough to keep the driving range running.
She rubbed her thumb across the paper and stared at her handwriting from last month. Same list…same numbers.Nothing changed except the penalties and the monthly usage. Looking at the unopened late notices, she already knew all she could do was spread the money around and hope nothing slipped too far behind.
Between Ray’s check from the military and the couple dollars she made from teaching kids the game of golf, that was all she had. No cushion…no luxury - just enough to keep the lights on at the range and groceries in the house if she was careful. Her Mama’s health declined with each passing day and the insurance didn’t cover everything in full. She was always buying something - pills, wipes, new shoes because Magnolia insisted her old ones weren’t hers. And don’t get her started on food for the house—she was beyond stressed and strapped for cash.
“Another month, not enough money,” she sighed. Her shoulders dropped as she leaned back in the chair. She wanted to bawl her eyes out but that never did anything for her, so no need to do it again now. That and Meadow liked to reserve her tears for her private moments. She wasn’t about to break down in the middle of the kitchen with her parents walking in and out.
She pressed her fingertips against her forehead and exhaled. The kitchen was quiet except for the sound of Magnolia humming something she couldn’t remember and Ray’s boots moving across the porch outside. Every sound reminded her of why she couldn’t fall apart. This land had been in her family for generations. These thirty-nine acres were her family’s pride. Her grandfather worked himself down to nothing to buy the first twenty, then hustled and saved for nineteen more. Her father fought in a war and came home to protect what his father built. And now it was her turn to hold it up.
And Lord knows she was trying even when trying wasn’t good enough.
She picked up the first envelope, opened it slowly, and scanned the numbers. Past due. Penalty added. Balance higherthan last month. She didn’t blink. She didn’t even react. She set it down and opened the next one. Same thing. Last envelope—final notice. She closed her eyes for a breath because she needed that one breath to stay steady.
She wasn’t surprised.
She wasn’t shocked.
She was just tired.
“Meadow Rain?” Magnolia’s voice drifted from the hallway. “Have you seen my purse? I think somebody moved it.”
“It’s on the couch, Mama,” Meadow called back.
“You sure?”
