Chapter 26
Chapter Twenty-Six
Beckett
I’m anxious.
Several times this morning, Joey reminded me that if I didn’t want to golf with the guys, she’d take my place.
No offense, but if she plays golf the way she plays putt-putt, the group won’t be home until after dark.
I didn’t mind our lengthy game. It gave me more time to spend with her. If anything, I kept encouraging her to take her time lining up the ball so I could get even more time with her.
I told her I was fine to go golfing. Mostly because she already felt guilty and I didn’t want to make things worse.
Every time she apologizes for a trivial slip-up or perceived misstep, my heart breaks. The urge to scoop her up in my arms is so strong sometimes that my limbs ache. I want to take away every unnecessary apology and every ounce of misplaced guilt she’s ever felt.
Instead, when she thinks she’s upset me and she shrinks back, I reassure her with my words. Gentle, soothing, and uplifting. Hoping that one day, with time, she stops feeling the need to apologize.
I get the sense she’s always apologized for taking up space. And she shouldn’t have to shrink to feel like she fits in—she deserves to take up as much space as she wants.
She deserves to own her fire.
To stop apologizing.
To remain passionate and vibrant.
Joey deserves to be Joey. And no one else.
Ten minutes before the time we’re scheduled to meet, I pull into the course parking lot.
I was nervous about parking and wanted to leave early.
Once my car is in park, I lean back in my seat and use a breathing technique my therapist suggested I try when I’m anxious about a social gathering.
On my third deep breath, my phone pings with a notification.
When I unlock it, I find a selfie of Joey and Barbara.
Joey
I’m getting the vibe you’re anxious and not excited.
So here’s a photo of me holding a very grumpy Barbara.
*Photo of Joey and a very grumpy Barbara*
Laughing to myself, I open the photo and zoom in. Sure enough, Barbara’s eyes are narrowed to slits as Joey presses their faces together.
But Joey? She’s undoubtedly radiant.
Her hair is wild like it always is in the morning, with pieces sticking out in every direction. Her smile, my favorite feature, is bright, and her freckled cheeks are slightly pink.
I click save because this is most definitely a photo I want to keep forever.
Barbara looks displeased, as usual.
My thumbs hover over the keyboard as I push my doubts aside. Then, with a breath in, I type out exactly what I’m thinking.
And you look beautiful, as usual.
Joey
I think you may need new glasses.
Don’t you get an eye exam every year? Our eyesight does get worse the older we get. . .
Joey?
Joey
Yeah?
Take the damn compliment.
Joey
You got it.
Thank you. :)
A knock on my window startles me, making me fumble my phone. I catch it before it can clatter to the floor, then turn and find Finn standing just outside my car, waving and smiling.
Lifting my hand, I give an awkward wave.
“Sorry! I didn’t mean to startle you.” His voice is muffled behind the window. “Joey said you’re a coffee guy. I didn’t know what kind you like, so I brought a variety.” He holds up a full drink carrier.
I appreciate that Finn went out of his way for me, yet it can be so awkward when people go above and beyond to make someone comfortable. Especially for the new guy in the group. Or for the anxious guy. Or in my case, both.
Still, I acknowledge and appreciate the gesture.
I climb out and give him a semi-awkward smile as he holds out the coffee carrier for me.
“Uh. Just black coffee is fine. Thanks.”
Smiling, he hands me a cup, then sets the carrier on top of his car and pulls his clubs out.
Unease unfurls in my chest, making me second-guess my decision to come.
Before long, Jack arrives, followed by a man in his early sixties.
The older gentleman may be close to twice my age, but the dude looks like he could murder a person with a single glare.
He’s about my height, with salt-and-pepper hair and a goatee.
And his biceps look big enough to crush a watermelon.
Like me, he’s covered in tattoos. Except his are colorful rather than all black.
“That’s Marnie’s dad.” Finn slides up next to me.
“Him? The guy who looks like he got kicked out of the military and is banned from at least fifteen countries?” I gape.
“Yep. Now you understand why Marnie is the way she is. Pretty sure the guy has mafia ties, though it’s impossible to tell whether Marnie is lying.”
Eyes wide, I dart a look at him. “Jesus.”
As he chuckles lightly beside me, my muscles relax a fraction and my chest loosens.
Okay, maybe this won’t be so bad. We can bond over our shared fear of Marnie’s dad and hope we aren’t tied to the mafia by association now.
Jack strolls over to us, peering over his shoulder at Marnie’s dad more than once. “I don’t know who’s more terrifying. Him or his daughter,” he says, grabbing a coffee from Finn’s drink carrier.
“If one of us doesn’t make it home tonight, we know who to point the detectives to,” I say, bringing my cup to my lips.
Both guys laugh lightly, the sound putting me even more at ease. Though the nerves are back when Marnie’s dad approaches.
We fall silent, all straightening in his intimidating presence.
Our posture has never been better.
“Gentlemen,” he says with a curt nod.
“Marnie’s dad.” Finn returns the gesture.
Blinking, I eye him, then Marnie’s dad. Does this guy have a death wish or what?
“What?” Finn says, frowning.
Marnie’s dad clears his throat, cocking a single dark eyebrow. “Names? My kid likes to leave out details.”
“Jack,” the lumberjack to my left says, not making direct eye contact.
When Marnie’s dad looks at me, I startle. “Uh. B-Beckett.”
“Finn,” my friend with a death wish blurts out.
With a slow nod, the old guy gives the three of us another once-over. “Victor.”
Definitely has mafia ties.
Victor plucks the final coffee from Finn’s carrier without a word, then heads for the clubhouse.
Finn, Jack, and I look at each other like we’re three kids who’ve just pissed off their dad.
“All right, boys.” Jack peers over his shoulder. “If we want to make it out alive, we need to be on our best behavior.”
As we approach the pro shop, my anxiety spikes again and I pull up short.
Jack and Finn pause and turn, both giving me questioning looks.
I blow out a breath. “We need to play rock, paper, scissors.”
“Huh? Why?” Jack asks.
“Because.” I swallow past the lump in my throat. “One of us has to share a cart with him.” I nod at Victor, who’s standing outside the building, watching us from behind dark sunglasses, his lips pressed into a thin line.
“Fuck,” Jack and Finn say in unison.
Finn chose scissors and lost.
Naturally, we’ve been giving him shit about it all morning. The contrast between the muscled man in his sixties and the lanky nerd is comical.
Jack and I sit in our cart, sipping our coffees while Finn and Victor line up their fairway shots, squinting against the early afternoon sun that glints off the damp grass.
“How’s living with Jo been?” Jack asks quietly. “Does she still leave her socks everywhere? And random coffee mugs on the counter?”
I chuckle, adjusting my sunglasses. “She’s a great roommate. Aside from the whole sock thing.”
He shakes his head, his lips twitching. “Gotta love that kid. She’s always been like that.
A little forgetful here and there. Our parents used to say her head was permanently in the clouds because she liked the view from up there so much better.
” His voice drips with nostalgia and affection as he looks out at the open fairway.
Yep. That description’s apt, though she does seem to enjoy coming down from her dreamy clouds to be with me on the ground, where our worlds collide.
She brings vibrancy into my rather mundane life.
Every day with her is an adventure, and I find myself wanting nothing more than to just exist in her space.
“Fore!” Victor yells. “That damn lanky kid,” he mumbles with annoyance.
Jack and I stifle our laughs as Finn stalks our way. Looming over the cart, he glowers. “I don’t want to be your friend anymore.”
“I didn’t know we were friends,” Jack teases. “I just considered you the dude fearless enough to date my sister.” Smirking, he lifts his coffee to his lips.
Finn narrows his eyes on me next.
“What? I’m not in one place long enough to have friends.” I put my hands up in surrender.
“Fuck off. All of you.” He stalks away, though halfway to his cart, he glances over his shoulder, laughing.
We lift our coffee cups in solidarity. “Good luck, brother,” Jack shouts.
Facing forward again, Finn raises his hand and gives us a well-deserved middle finger.
When we finish the front nine and stop for a quick break, I pull my phone from my back pocket and discover a message from Joey waiting for me.
Joey
I’m dying over here with no updates. How’s it going? Do you need me to rescue you?
The corners of my mouth turn up, probably making me look like a love-struck fool.
I think you should worry more about Finn. Marnie’s dad is having a little too much fun with him.
Joey
Oh my god. I can’t wait to hear more later.
How are YOU, though? Where’s your social battery at? I can make up an excuse and tap you out. . .
I appreciate that. But shockingly, I’m doing okay.
Better than okay.
Joey
Good! Do you think you’ll be up for the barbecue with everyone at Jack’s place after? If not, I’ll make up an excuse.
Will you be there?
Joey
Yes!
Then I’ll be there too.