“What’s going on today, man?” Matt asks, his voice calmer. “This isn’t you.”
What’s going on? I almost laugh. Where do I start? I’m afraid I’ll never be good at golf again. I’m scared Brookes Devereaux was only ever at his best when he was drunk, or fucking high. I’m terrified I’ve lost whatever it is I used to have. I really thought I’d be back to normal by now. But now, I don’t even remember what normal is. I truly am starting to worry that the old Brookes is gone for good.
“Brookes?” Matt presses, pulling me from my thoughts.
“Looks like a case of blue balls to me!”
I spear Jonesy with a warning glower and he just shrugs and goes back to the newspaper he’s reading from the golf cart where he’s been watching and adding his two cents every now and again like he always does during my coaching.
“Jonesy,” Matt warns.
Stifling a pained groan, I drag a hand down my face. “Sorry, I’m just… tired. Didn’t sleep much last night.”
Matt checks his watch. “Why don’t we call it for the day. I’ll send you the session recording and my notes, you can study it tonight, and we’ll reconvene in the morning.”
I nod once, looking away.
“Take it easy on yourself, Brookes.” Matt slaps my shoulder. “You’re entitled to have a bad day every now and again.”
A bad day, sure. But a bad fucking year? Grinding my molars, I nod again and offer him a forced smile before walking over to retrieve my driver from the deep rough.
When I return, I walk back up toward the cart, untangling the reeds from my club, when I’m startled by a sing-song, “Good morning, fellas!”
I glance over my shoulder to see Poppy and her beverage cart puttering up the cart path toward us, and immediately my gaze flits to Jonesy to find him already grinning at me in that way that makes my stomach drop down into the bottom of my ass.
“Good morning, love of my life,” Jonesy bellows.
“Can I interest either of you in a coffee before I head back to the club house?”
“Not for me, sweetie,” Jonesy says, patting his rounded belly. “Doc’s put me on a one-cup a day rule. Says the old bowels don’t work the way they used to.”
I wince, spearing him with awhat-the-fucklook as I make my way to my golf bag.
Poppy bites back a smile. “How about you, Brookes?”
Glancing over my shoulder, I meet her midnight-blue eyes.
“Can I interest you in anything?” She arches a brow, her smile sweet.
“Yeah, Brookes,” Jonesy says from the cart with a teasing tone, low enough so only I can hear him. “Can she interest you in anything?”
My jaw clenches and I shake my head, looking back at Poppy with a forced smile. “No. Thanks.”
“Okay, well y’all have a good rest of your day!” Poppy calls before carefully easing her cart around mine.
“Hey, Sweetheart?” Jonesy yells out after her, causing me to stiffen because what the hell is he doing?
“What is it, Jonesy?” Poppy stops her cart, turning to look back at him.
“You got a boyfriend?”
“Fuck’s sake,” I mutter under my breath, shaking my head.
“Why?” Her eyebrows dance up and down as she says, “You looking for wife number three?”
Jonesy throws his head back on a roaring laugh, scaring the flock of ibis scrounging around off to the side of the cart path. “Oh, no, honey. My Lori would have my balls cut off and mounted above the fireplace before she agrees on a divorce.”
Poppy giggles. “No, I don’t have a boyfriend. Not anymore, at least…”
