Chapter 19
Lou: Their putts just don’t connect, much like their chances at a smooth comeback.
Chuck: Regret’s piling up on that green like stubborn, untrimmed grass.
Lou: Maybe they need to switch clubs—maturity might do the trick.
Chuck: Or just drop the bag and run.
Opening the audiobook of a thrillermance I’ve been listening to, a scream of pleasure or fear plays through my noise canceling headphones.
I get a good stretch in before I start my run.
This is exactly what I need, I think to myself as my feet push off the pavement.
The leaves have slowly begun to turn into those beautiful autumn colors I love so much.
When I first bought my house, I came here often for a casual stroll.
I simply wanted to get out and explore my neighborhood.
But what became a stroll, turned into a walk, which changed to a morning run on the days I could get out of bed.
There’s this burn that comes from running. It somehow frees me of my internal thoughts. I’ve been so focused this past week between ramen with Clint and then the dumbass move of kissing him, I haven’t had the time to prepare for the tournament. What the fuck was I thinking kissing him?
I felt like such an idiot after propositioning him, but what he did was right.
I’m not ready, but I’m beginning to think about what it could look like to be with a man like Clint, someone so sure and confident.
But how can he be so sure of me when I don’t know what the hell I want?
How can he…No. See, this is why I came out for a run in the first place, to get out of my head.
A cool autumn breeze presses against my skin as I push myself harder.
The higher my heart rate is, the less I’ll think about his annoyingly gorgeous face.
I crack my neck as I come around the bend of the trail in an attempt to relieve some more stress from my body.
I push a little harder, wanting to feel the welcoming burn in my legs as I run.
Abruptly, my entire body comes to a stop as I slam into a large wall.
Hands reach out and grip my forearms, stopping me from ending up on my ass, which I could do all by myself without running into anyone, if I’m honest. I pull off my headphones, resting them on my neck to see what or who I ran into.
“We almost went down. Are you okay—oh shit! Paloma?” The warmth in his voice surprises me, because what are the odds I would run into the only person I consider a true ex-boyfriend.
Danny and I dated for about ten months a few years back.
I still wasn't ready for a commitment, and I don't think he was either, but we knew whatever it was we were doing, we were better off as friends. He moved out of the state, and I’m surprised to see him back.
“Dios mio, Danny!” I wrap my arms around his waist, giving him a squeeze and appreciating the one I receive back. “How are you?”
“I’m doing great! Sometimes you just have to come back home, you know?
Didn’t even cross my mind about your house being over here.
Man, it's good to see you. What’s been going on with you?
How’s the bar?” His questions are rapid fire.
Same old Danny, I chuckle to myself. We catch up, ending on Cassidy’s love life and the man she is totally head over heels for. “And you? Dating anyone?”
I bark out a laugh at the thought, and it sours in my mouth because there is someone I want so badly it hurts. “Oh no, I’m not dating.”
“Still won’t touch dating with a ten-foot pole, hm?” he jokes, bumping my shoulder with his side. “Don’t look so glum. I’m sorry. I promise I didn't mean anything by it.”
“No, no, it's okay. I, um…” I take in a breath thinking if anyone would be honest with me about my dating life, it would be Danny. Plus, he has direct experience in my lack of commitment. “Actually, are you busy?”
His eyebrows rise, and he shakes his head. “What do you have in mind?”
“I need to ask you something,” I say.
“Cool. But first, you want to run up to your mom’s shop and grab some coffee? I was on my way there.”
“Hell yes, I do.” And with that we take off running.
Well, I take off running. Danny slows his strides so I can keep up with him.
We joke as we run, laughing through ragged breaths as he pats my head, bringing attention to just how short I am in comparison to him.
We make it to Sweet Bean in a few minutes, and I pull at the door.
“Why don’t we grab a seat out here so I can pick your brain? Coffee’s on me.”
“You don't have to tell me twice. Make it extra sweet!” he shouts as I make my way inside. The door doesn't even ding before I see Mami peeking from behind the espresso maker.
“Ooh, so the handsome man never called, huh? New guy?” She sneers.
“Mami, hush!” I laugh. “He’s just an old friend.
Stop meddling.” I hear her hum at the sentiment before handing me two large café con leches.
I pull out twenty dollars and slide it on the counter.
Her eyes are slivers, and I know she won't take my money, so I quickly stuff it in the tip jar before snatching up the café and walk to the front door.
“Love you too!” she yells as the door shuts behind me, and I make my way to where Danny is sitting. I set the large, white Styrofoam cups down and sit in the chair across from him.
“So what is it you want to pick my brain about?” he asks, peeling back the coffee lid and blowing before taking a small, tentative sip.
“You know it's going to be hot. I don't even know why you bother blowing on it.” I chuff a laugh through my nose and take my own sip.
“Your mom’s café con leches are the best. I can’t help myself.” He smiles through another scalding sip and blows a breath to cool what I’m sure is a scorched tongue.
I flick my gaze to him, knowing the turn I’m going to take in the conversation. “I know we ended things as friends but...well…” I stutter over my words, fiddling with the plastic lid of my cup, not really sure how I want to ask this question.
He levels his gaze with mine. “You’ve never been one to hold back, Lo. Just spit it out.”
“Was I really that bad?” I rush to ask the question, and then quickly take a sip of my café, needing to focus on something.
“What do you mean by ‘that bad’?” He grimaces as he follows my question with one of his own.
I blow a breath and watch a couple walk into Sweet Bean. My chest burns with the thought, That could be Clint and me. When I face Danny again, I sigh before asking, “Was I really so terrible to date? Was I unreasonable?”
A soft smile climbs up his mouth, and he leans onto his elbows. “No, you weren’t unreasonable unless it was about your waffles. But that isn't what you are really asking me.”
“Was I unlovable?” Finally, the real question pours out of me like acid.
“No. You weren't, and aren't, unlovable. You just never let your walls down low enough for me to climb. You were always so fearful of being hurt. You kept your heart locked behind that impenetrable fortress of yours.” His voice is confident, and I know he is telling me the truth.
I could always count on Danny to be truthful, honest, and real. “Look, Lo. If there is someone—”
But I cut him off, frustrated with myself. “I just…I don’t know how to get past this fucking feeling.”
“It’s something only you can figure out, but I’ll challenge you with this: love yourself enough to be loved in return, Paloma.
Because no one else can do that for you.
Believe you’re worth it, because you are, and everything will fall into place.
” He has a goofy grin on his face as he tips his cup my way.
A small amount of piping hot coffee drips onto his hand, and he snatches his cup back before licking his finger and shaking his head.
“Come on. We can walk back to the park while we sip.”
I wave my hand at Mami through the glass windows of the coffee shop because I know she’s watching.
If Jesus himself came down and told her to stop her meddling, she would still lean over to the side to see if I was on a date with a man.
I’ll make it a point to stop by again before the end of the week.
Danny and I walk back through the park before parting ways, and we promise to stay in touch since he’s back in town.
His words on the fact that I’m not unlovable, just scared of love, stick with me.
The way my parents ended things has stuck in the back of my mind for my entire life.
The past twenty years of my life, I’ve been sabotaging my own future.
My hand clutches the knob of my front door, and I lean into it as the realization takes root.
“You know, when you said we should get together on the green, I didn’t take you seriously,” I say, tapping the club against my sneaker.
“Why’s that?” Clinton asks, pulling out a driver from the golf bag. “We haven’t played together in years. Besides, we can plan out which holes are the best for the tournament games.”
I hadn’t even considered the games we planned out.
“Here.” His deep voice is so close behind me, and when I turn, he’s holding a white Styrofoam cup. It has the Sweet Bean logo on it, and I smile.
“Thank you,” I say, accepting the cup from his hand and taking a tentative sip. A hum of satisfaction sounds from his chest, and I imagine what those vibrations would feel like pressing against my back.
I spin on my heels, almost spilling the coffee on both of us. “You’re up first, Golf Daddy.”
When Clinton presses a tee into the ground and tops it with a ball, his strong lean thighs flex as his hoochie-daddy shorts stretch around those muscles, and I squeeze my legs together as I watch. Why did he have to wear those? Something about men in tiny shorts really does it for me.