Chapter 2 #2
“You’re a brave kid, you know. Staying here and waiting for your mommy is the best thing you can do.”
The girl smiled through her tears. “Thank you, lady.”
A strange sensation came over Calista. She dissociated from her body, pulled down a long tunnel, and witnessed herself—not just as a child, but as the person she had become—still searching for something, still terrified of losing what little remained.
She brushed a tear from her cheek, surprised by the surge of emotion.
“Emily!” A frantic woman rushed toward them. “There you are!”
Emily’s face lit up, and she hopped off the bench. “Mommy!”
Calista got to her feet as the mom scooped up her daughter and rained kisses on her precious face. “You scared me half to death, pumpkin doodle. Please never wander off like that again.”
Emily buried her face against her mother’s neck and clung on for dear life.
The mother’s eyes met Calista’s. “Thank you so much,” she said, her voice choked with relief. “I turned around and poof, she was gone.”
“It’s okay.” Calista sent her a soft smile. “She’s safe.”
“Thank heavens for kind souls like you!”
“Anyone else would have done the same,” Calista said.
The mother set Emily on the ground and took her hand. “Tell the nice lady goodbye.”
“Bye!” Emily beamed, her traumatic moment forgotten, waving as she and her mother walked away.
Calista exhaled. That minor blip had distracted her from her problems for a few minutes, a welcome respite.
“Bang-up job with that kid. You’re a natural mother,” a masculine voice said.
Calista startled. She didn’t even want kids. Kids made you far too vulnerable. Plus, that voice sounded familiar, and it wasn’t a good recognition.
Pulse bumping, she turned to find a drop-dead handsome man her age standing there, and her stomach sank to the soles of her ankle boots. No forgetting that smug, gorgeous mug. Her most egregious nemesis . . . and onetime lover.
Reid Thornton. It had been five years since he turned her world upside down, and even longer since he’d broken her heart as a teenager.
He’d always had a knack for showing up at the worst possible times.
First love, first heartbreak, and the one person who had told her the truth about her father’s ultimate betrayal.
She’d thought she’d buried all those memories deep, but now they were bubbling up like a geyser.
Reid. The YouTube sports vlogger who covered her infamous meltdown at the Chevron Championship, writing about the humiliating incident that ended her career and shot her older sister to stardom. Oh, and with nary a mention that he caused said meltdown.
He’d been relentless after she left the LPGA, texting and sending emails she never answered, spurring him to show up at her condo. She hadn’t answered the door, either, and finally he’d gone away.
At the time, she thought he was just chasing a story—a way to milk her fall from grace for clicks and views. Now, seeing him here, she wasn’t so sure. Could there have been something more to his persistence? Either way, it was no coincidence he was here on the event of her mother’s death.
But why?
“I thought that was you!” Reid said, shifting his weight as if uncertain of his welcome. “Are you headed to Hobby Island for the golf tournament honoring your mother?” He glanced at her suitcase, then back to her face with what looked like genuine concern. “Did you bring your clubs?”
“Golf tournament?” Calista blinked.
What was he yammering about? No one had mentioned a golf tournament to her, and it wasn’t on the travel itinerary Eloisa Hobby sent her. She read through the paperwork a dozen times because, hey, yes, anxiety was her middle name.
Did they even have a golf course on Hobby Island? From what she’d learned when she googled the place, the location seemed restricted, with outsiders allowed to visit only if they’d received a golden ticket from the island’s owner.
Could he be right? Was she expected to play in a memorial golf tournament?
Her mouth went chalky, and the old wounds split wide open.
Calista loosened her jaw to respond, but the words stuck in her throat like a thick jam.
She’d spent so much energy running from her greatest shame on that green in the Woodlands five years ago.
The last thing she wanted was a memory lane frolic.
Her ugly past stared her in the face in the guise of those familiar blue eyes that once made her feel like she could conquer the world.
“Is Athena with you?” he asked, hesitation in his voice. Something flickered across his face—was that guilt?
Calista refused to engage. She waved at the docking ferry, ducked her head, picked up her luggage, and started around him. “Excuse me.”
Reid moved to block her way. His dark eyes sparked, but gently, not aggressively as they had when he’d dogged her after she left the LPGA. “Wait, please. I know I handled everything wrong back then. Your fans—the real ones—they’ve missed you. Not because of the drama, but because of who you are.”
How could he say that straight-faced? As if he hadn’t toppled the dominoes that day in the clubhouse . . . well, she would not dignify that memory with a response.
“Your fans—”
“My fans?” A hot flash of anger passed through her like a blowtorch set on scorch. “Are you talking about the same people who kicked me when I was down?”
Reid flinched, genuine remorse crossing his features.
When she moved left, he stepped aside but spoke quickly.
“People make mistakes, Calista. God knows I did. It’s not the fall that counts.
It’s how you bounce back that defines you, and you .
. . you’ve always been stronger than anyone I’ve known. ”
He stared at her with an intensity that made her uncomfortable, as if trying to convey something beyond his words, but Calista wasn’t ready to hear it. She had spent too long letting others define her, letting their opinions and judgments shape the way she saw herself.
“Your sister bulleted to the top of the LPGA in your absence,” he said, filling in the silent pause for her.
“That’s life.” She shrugged as if she didn’t care.
“You’re a better golfer than Athena.” Something in his expression reminded her of younger days, of shared dreams and stolen kisses behind the clubhouse. “I never understood what really happened that day. I should have tried harder to . . .”
Stunned, she stared at him. Did the man honestly not remember what he did to dismantle her entire world? Or had he convinced himself that he wasn’t behind her downfall?
“You know what, Reid?” She kept her voice steady, even as memories overwhelmed her. “I don’t owe you or anyone else an explanation. What happened back then is between me, Athena, and our father. Right now, the only thing that matters is honoring my mother’s memory.”
“So you are planning to play in the memorial tournament.” He pulled out his phone as if to record her but stopped himself.
“Out of my way. I have a ferry to catch.” She brushed past him, nudging him aside with her shoulder.
“Calista,” he called after her, his voice carrying a note of desperation she’d never heard before. “Please. You could inspire so many people—but that’s not the only reason I’m here. I want to make things right between us.”
She halted, then spun around, and he was following so closely he almost plowed into her. She shooed him back with both hands. “You just don’t get it, do you?”
His eyes softened with concern. “I know you’re working as an event planner now. Seems like you’re good at it, from what I saw on the internet.”
She gritted her teeth. “This isn’t about some feel-good story or inspirational message. This trip is about a daughter grieving her mother, struggling to say goodbye to a complicated history. Please respect that if nothing else.”
“Calista, I . . .” Raw remorse etched his features. “I never meant to hurt you. Back then, I was young and stupid, trying to prove myself in the industry, and I lost sight of what really mattered. Who really mattered.”
“What you meant is of no consequence. What matters is what you did.”
The ferry tooted, and a surge of passengers streamed around them to board the boat. Calista took a step closer, shoved her face in his, and locked eyes.
He stared right back, but this time without the old arrogance, just a complicated mix of regret and something else she couldn’t name.
Oh, little did he know she was the master of the stare-down. Just ask Athena.
“Why don’t you do us both a favor and leave me alone? Go find your story for your little vlog somewhere else.” Okay, she knew he had over two million subscribers, but she didn’t want him to know she knew.
“That’s not what this is about, but if you prefer I talk to Athena . . .”
Just then, as if on cue, a white limousine pulled up to the pier, and Calista didn’t have to ask who it was. Besides Benjamin Dempsey, she knew only one other person who traveled in limos to make a grand entrance.
Athena.