Chapter 3

Chuck: Yup. Called it. Straight into the rough.

Lou: You mean emotionally or situationally?

Chuck: Both. It’s clear neither one of them are ready for a face-to-face.

Lou: I give it five minutes before one of them falls flat on their face or throws their club across the green.

“Ladies and gentlemen, we have begun our descent into Cypress Lake. Please turn off all portable electronic devices and stow them away until we have arrived at the gate. Don’t forget to secure your carry-on items, stow your tray table, and pass any remaining items and unwanted reading materials to the flight attendants.

Thank you.” The attendant with sweeping long hair puts the communication device into its holder and walks down the aisle, confirming everyone is doing as asked.

I’m surprised being here doesn’t hurt as much.

Seven years is a long time to heal old wounds, but there’s one in particular that hasn’t quite healed yet.

I squeeze my eyes shut, burying the heel of my hand into my eyes to remove the image of long-lost love.

Opening my bag, I stash away my iPad and slide it under my seat before pocketing my phone.

Just in time too, I think to myself as I nod politely at the attendant.

There’s an adorable little boy sitting in front of me, who huffs as his mother tightens his seatbelt.

He’s been talking me up for most of the flight.

Coming back home feels good, but it also makes my chest tight thinking about the one who ran away.

Let’s just say getting my ear talked off rather than getting lost in my mind of what-ifs was the better option.

I think I paused my movie about thirty minutes into the flight as Nathanial filled me in on the last Spider-Man movie and then every other Spider-Man show he could think of.

I could have asked his mother to settle him, but I enjoyed his company.

“Ladies and gentlemen, Sovereign Airline welcomes you to Cypress Lake. The local time is 2:47 in the afternoon, and it’s a lovely warm day. Prepare for landing and enjoy your stay.”

No sweeter words than those.

Walking through the terminal, I pass by the lounge, and the scent of coffee wafts through the air. My eyes linger in the direction of a hot cup of joe, but for only a moment. I continue on, snapping my gaze to the hanging signs before I make a left down the hall.

I’m a grown-ass man, I can handle myself. Being here doesn’t hurt me like it did all those years ago, but nobody enjoys being reminded of one of the worst moments of their life.

I push through the bathroom door and check my pickup time on the rideshare app.

“I still have a few minutes,” I tell myself.

My nerves of being here are more intense than I imagined, and I turn on the faucet, dipping my hands into the cool water before patting my face.

The water calms me a bit, giving me a little break from my nervousness.

I could have gone to another golf club on the outskirts of Cypress Lake, but going back to Mossy Oaks felt like the right move.

I look at my reflection and realize now that I‘m here, everything stings. I rake my still-wet fingers through my short, curly hair and take a deep breath, allowing myself to think of her. Paloma is probably off living her life, far away from Cypress Lake. I pull the paper towel from the dispenser and dry my hands, tossing the sodden ball into the trash. After getting my luggage, I take in my surroundings. The airport isn’t as full as I’ve grown accustomed to.

I’ve traveled all over the world the last seven years and forgot what it’s like being in a small town.

I make my way out of the airport and into the fresh air of a town I’m ready to call home again.

My rideshare drops me off in front of the condo I’m renting; I grab my bags from the trunk, thanking my driver for the ride, and make my way inside.

I check my phone once more, confirming the moving company dropped off the furniture and boxes.

Opening the email, my eyes drift to the already-read confirmation.

Seeing the confirmation settled me knowing everything I packed has made it safe to my new home, especially my record collection and player.

Pocketing my phone, I scan the lush green lawn that spans far beyond the building, and I smile internally, finally being so close to the course.

It doesn’t matter how many times I’ve played, I love being near the green.

Besides, this is the perfect place for me.

The entryway is simple with clean white-and-gray decor and an occasional pop of color.

I walk up to the concierge behind the desk to sign my paperwork.

“It’s good to have you, Mr. Morrison. I’m glad to see you’ve made it in.

My name is Greg Johnson, and I’ll be your concierge here at Oaks Condos.

” When I nod my head and step up to the desk, he hands me an iPad and continues, “What brings you home? Perhaps, bringin’ those pro moves back to Mossy Oaks?

” Greg asks me, his voice holds a gleam of hope.

“A big part of the reason I’m back is because of Mossy Oaks Golf Club.”

He gives me a warm smile. “Well, don’t hold back. I want to know what brought our very own celebrity home”

“Nah, I’m just a guy who loves the game, Mr. Greg.” I chuckle at the thought of being considered a celebrity. “If you really want to know…” When his nod urges me on, I go for it. “Did you hear about the Albatross Charity Tournament that’s being held at Mossy Oaks in a few months?”

He shakes his head, and I continue, “It may still be too early for advertisements, but my hope is to gain support for the golf-oriented community center I’m building now that I’m home.

” I tap on a few signatures. “I really want this facility to be a safe place for kids to come, build skills, and make friends.”

“That sounds lovely,” he responds, as he straightens his desk.

“Albatross Youth Academy will be fully equipped with golf simulator rooms, a space to get fitted properly, all while having a full membership to the Mossy Oaks Golf Club. The center will give the kids an inside perspective of being a golf pro and provide them with everything they need to get started, regardless of cost.”

I keep working through the digital paperwork and continue on with our conversation, “It felt right to bring Albatross home.”

“It sounds like somethin’ really special.”

I nod. “Aside from the golf program, it’s important for all of our kids to feel seen and have a village rallying behind them.

I want to extend myself by connecting them to their village.

I’m just excited for the kids within our community to have a place that’s just theirs, where they can make lasting relationships and maybe even gain a mentor. ”

“That really sounds like somethin’,” he says.

His gray hair is cut low on the sides, military style.

“My grandkids would love somethin’ like that, they like to stay busy.

Sometimes their energy drives their mama nuts.

They just turned twelve, and ever since I started workin’ here, they’ve been all about learnin’ the ropes of the course.

Both kids are pretty good too!” I hand him the iPad, having finished with the contract.

Greg is quick as he presses his finger to the screen and swipes over before he’s handing it back to me. “Just your last signature here, Mr. Morrison.”

“Did the movers give you too much trouble?”

“Oh no, they were great youngins,” he says.

I finish off the last page, and he’s handing me my keys.

“Well, Mr. Greg,” I say, before pulling out my wallet and handing him my card, “you give me a call when you’re ready to talk more about getting those grandkids of yours into Albatross.”

His eyes glimmer with excitement at the prospect of bringing the news to his grandkids. “Are all the prices on this here website?” he asks, his eyes dropping to my business card for only a moment before they’re back on me.

“I fully believe in giving back to the youth, so you don’t worry about the cost, Mr. Greg. It's on me.”

“Oh, I couldn’t. It’d be like stealin’ right from your pocket.” He waves me off.

“It's not, and I offered. I’ll make you a deal. If you can tell me where I can get a good cup of coffee at a local spot, not a major chain where coffee is made up of more milk than espresso, we will call it even.”

“Oh, if it’s coffee you’re wantin’, there’s no better place than Sweet Bean. It’s in the center of town!” He quickly gives me the recommendation and pulls out a little white card from his wallet. “Here! Take my loyalty card and get a coffee on me.”

“Mr. Greg, you are the man!” I take the card as he nods and head to the elevator, giving him a wave as I do. With not a single soul in the elevator, I’m up to my floor in no time and walking into my space.

Opening the front door, I’m met with a view of the lake, which butts up against the lush green of the course. Even from here I can see how sunlight reflects off the ripples in the pond, either from a breeze or a golfer's terrible swing, who knows.

I close the door, hear the click of the lock fall into place, set my bags down, and do a walk-through of the space.

The kitchen has been newly renovated, and with my quick glance of the living space, so has the rest of my new home.

Dark brown cabinetry and stainless steel appliances provide modern touches that I vibe with, including the wood elements in the bar stools and large butcher blocks leaning against the backsplash.

I thumb the stove, excitement pushing me forward at the thought of creating a couple of my favorite meals while having my cousin over for dinner.

I follow the dark wood floors into the living room and grip the back of my navy blue couch.

It may be strange for the first week being back, but taking in a deep inhale I relax, knowing I’ll be able to put down some roots.

I open, from what I remember from the pictures, the bedroom door. I step onto soft carpet to see where the moving team decided was the perfect spot for my massive king bed: in the center of the wall. They flanked it with two nightstands, along with a pile of boxes against a side wall.

I find the ensuite, and my eyes land on the large two person glass shower, fitted with glossy gray tile work.

“A shower bench, huh?” I chuckle, still peeking inside.

Two shower heads rain down from the top while three body jets occupy each side.

The owner believes in cleanliness, that’s for damn sure.

I slide open the doors leading out to the patio when my cell phone dings with a notification.

Selly

Did you make it in yet?

Clinton

Yeah! I just finished checking out the place.

Selly

How is it? You know I’m nosy…

Clinton

It’s great, I just need to get my records up.

You wanna do dinner and catch me up?

Selly

Hell yes! Next week?

I have a few new vinyls for you too.

Clinton

You’re the best! I’ll put it in my calendar.

Selly

Old man!

Clinton

Maybe, but I’ll be on time.

Selly

Hush.

Love you, I’m glad you’re back.

Clinton

Me too Selly.

Now all I need to do is settle in and get ready for the Albatross Charity Tournament.

It's going to be a busy few months, but I know it will pay off.

Especially once we get the first round of kids through Albatross.

A faint smile creeps up my cheeks. Bringing golf to the youth of the neighborhoods I grew up in is a remarkable feeling.

Walking back inside, I walk to the entryway, knowing I saw my box of records there when I first walked into the condo.

I slide one of my keys down the tape of the labeled box and pull out my record player before setting it on the console.

I unpacked my latest obsession from the box, tucking it beneath my arm.

I plug in the necessary cords and before I know it, the deep red vinyl of MUTT Deluxe: HEEL by Leon Thomas is playing through the speakers.

Time to get a few things unpacked and get settled into life back in Cypress Lake.

Back home.

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