Chapter 24
“I gotta say”—Petewipes the sweat from his brow as we walk from the eighteenth hole to the resort—“you surprised me today.”
“Yeah?” I eye him with a smile.
“Yeah.” He laughs, and it’s a nice change to see him so relaxed. “I thought you’d show up with a bad attitude and sulk through every hole.”
“Glad to see you think so highly of me,” I tease.
“Come on. You know what I mean.”
“I know. If you would’ve asked me last Thursday how I thought I’d play the day after the U.S. Open, I would’ve said the same thing.”
But when I got home this morning from being stranded with Jane, I didn’t feel anxious about looking up the winner of the tournament. I was happy for Chuck Rector when I saw the replay of him holding up the champions’ trophy. It was his first Major win, and you could see how much it meant to him. It was nice, for once, not to feel the pit of jealousy deep inside.
I push the strap of my golf bag farther up on my shoulder. “I’m just as surprised by my score today as you.”
For the first time since I arrived in Sunset Harbor, I actually played well. And not just well. I ended the day at twenty-one under par—a course record that beats out the old course record from when I was eighteen years old.
“The way those shots were falling today”—Pete shakes his head—“you could’ve played with anyone and won.”
“I’m glad for the improvement, but I don’t want to get too ahead of myself. I have to figure out a way to replicate it again and again.”
“Well, what changed?”
I nudge him with my shoulder. “You tell me. You’re the coach.”
“Alright, I’ll tell you. I think you were relaxed out there. You played with your heart, not your head.”
“I felt relaxed.”
“So the question is, what got you to loosen up?”
Jane immediately comes to mind, but I shake the thought away. “I don’t know.”
“Well, you better figure that out, because if you don’t know what’s centering you, you’re not going to be able to repeat it.”
That’s exactly why it can’t be Jane. I can’t take her influence with me when I leave this island.
“You know, maybe I’ll try going home to Jupiter for a few days. Golf a few different courses”—away from Jane—“and see how I do.”
“I think that’s a great idea.”
“I can call Mick and have him caddie for me. Kind of like a soft test run for the British Open and see how it goes.”
“It can’t hurt.”
“And…”—I bob my head back and forth, unsure if I really want to say this next thought out loud—“what if I entered the Rocket Mortgage Classic in Detroit next week? It would be my first tournament since the PGA Championship earlier this year. I don’t expect to do well. I just want something before the British Open next month.”
“I think that’s a great idea. You have to work your way up to the British Open. You can’t just show up cold turkey. And the Rocket Mortgage is a great tournament on the PGA Tour.”
“I don’t want to make a big deal out of it, you know?” In case I fail or chicken out. “So maybe let’s just keep my entering that tournament on the down low.”
Pete laughs, slapping me on the shoulder. “The second the media sees your name on the players’ list, it won’t be on the down low.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of.” I draw in a quick breath. “I just don’t want everyone talking about my swing or if my mechanics are back to where they should be.”
“Walker, the head messes up more shots than the body. So just keep your head in a good place, like you did today, and you’ll be fine.”
Keep my head in a good place? I’m worried Jane is the reason I played better and more relaxed. And if that’s true, then both my head and my heart are in trouble.