Page 24 of The Sweet Spot

Max and Jess walk up behind us after Whit makes her very clean shot. Jess elbows me and gives me a look.

I give her nothing back.

“How you guys doing over there?” she asks.

“We're good,” Whit and I say at the same time.

Jess looks between us. Her grin gets wider. Max says nothing, steps up to the tee, and hits a drive that lands twenty yards past where mine is sitting, easy and unhurried, like he did it in his sleep.

Whit and I stand there, staring at the white ball, both seemingly willing it to roll in the wrong direction.

It doesn't.

“We need to birdie this hole,” she says, coming to stand beside me.

“I know.”

“Both of us.”

“I know, Whit.”

I glance at her, managing a quick, tight smile. “Promise I won’t forget in the next thirty seconds.”

She doesn’t smile back.

Yeah. That tracks. She hates me, and there’s nothing I can do about it except play better.

Not that it’s going to happen when I have her breathing down my neck like this. I’m more of a positive feedback kind of guy.

Disappointed, I turn and head down to the golf cart, not knowing what I can do to make my prickly pro any happier.

Chapter 5

We’ve got this.

I take a deep breath and step onto the fairway, mentally planning my swing.

Nothing else matters except the shot. Not even the fact that I haven’t spoken to my partner since his first hit on the ninth, or that Max bogeyed that hole, leaving it wide open for us to take the lead. The only thing that matters is that I perform.

I line up and hit my tee shot. The ball lands exactly where I planned it to, so I hand my club to Graham and take off my golf gloves to flex my fingers.

JB whistles quietly as he steps up.

I hold my tongue, knowing if I say something I'm going to fuck it all up again. We’ll get in an argument, and it will only make things worse.

He lines up, and I wince.

Don’t do it. Don’t clutch it.

His grip tightens right before impact and he swings.

Thunk.

Disappointment sits heavy in my stomach because even with my eyes closed, I know exactly where that went.

I peek one eye open and blow out a breath.

Yup, it’s in the rough, on the wrong side of the fairway and about fifteen yards short of where it needs to be.