23. JT
Chapter twenty-three
JT
I walk to the bar at the back of the restaurant, a bit more relaxed from the walk over here. The crisp summer night air will do that to a guy. I’ve been sitting at home for the last four hours, a bundle of pissed-off energy. It’s just a bad mood in general, definitely not something to do with Lila, the woman who is sleeping in my bed, my arms, being out on a second date right now.
“JT!”
I hear my name called from a table in the corner and plaster on what I hope is a friendly-looking smile before turning to see who is calling to me. The locals and the staff here mostly leave me alone, but occasionally a member and their friends will be in for the weekend and will ask for an autograph or selfie. I’m typically happy to oblige, but the great outdoors didn’t impact my mood that much.
Spotting motion at one of the tables, I find Izzy Harper waving at me from her seat next to Kelsey. Both women are still in their golf attire, Izzy in a bright pink golf skirt with a black collared tank top and Kelsey in a full black golf dress. It looks like the sisters decided to hit up the restaurant after their round of golf rather than head home like Lila. Though I suppose Lila had her date to get ready for. I feel the irritation start to flare back up inside of me at the thought of Lila out on a date but push it back down as far as I can.
“Hey, Izzy. Kelsey,” I say as I reach their table.
“Hey. Want to join us?” Kelsey nods at the empty seat next to her.
“Oh, no. I don’t want to intrude.”
“It’s not an intrusion, but also, if you’d rather be alone, I completely understand,” Kelsey replies.
I don’t want to be alone with my confusing thoughts right now. If I sit by myself, I know all I’m going to do is stew over the fact that Lila is out on a second date tonight with someone who may or may not be better in bed than I am. Though I’m pretty sure she has no way of knowing that. There definitely wasn’t enough time on their first date for her to sleep with him. Plus, Lila doesn’t strike me as the type that hooks up on a first date with someone she might be serious about. An image of Lila and I in the hallway of the bar sneaks into my mind at the thought, and I feel my hand tighten on the back of the chair I’m standing behind. Shit. I’m not sure if I’m more upset that the memory has reminded me 1. How good Lila feels pressed up against me; 2. That she did, in fact, have enough time for a quick hookup with Matthew; or, 3. That, by my own reasoning, she never saw me as someone to be serious about.
Number three convinces me to sit down with the Harper sisters.
I need something to banish the thought of me not being someone she could be serious about—and the fact that it makes my chest feel like there is a gaping hole in it—from my mind. I do not care that Lila would never be serious about me. I am the one who needs to be focused on his golf game right now, not a serious relationship.
“You okay there, bud?” Izzy asks, her dark eyes full of concern and sympathy.
“Yeah. Just have a lot on my mind.”
“Want to talk about it?” Kelsey asks. I still don’t feel like I know Kelsey all that well, but she’s really growing on me. She’s not as outgoing and loud as Bryn or as openly kind as Izzy, but she says what she means and, while she seems to realize she impacts the emotions of people around her, she doesn’t seem to carry the same feeling of responsibility for others’ emotions like I do. It’s refreshing to see someone who is so loved by their family and friends even though she isn’t always a ray of sunshine. Real black cat energy, that one.
“I’m not even sure where to start,” I reply honestly. “Plus, it’ll just bring you guys down with me.”
Both women shrug in an identical move that is either genetic or has been nurtured in them since a young age.
“We might not be best friends, but I assure you, we can handle listening to you work through whatever you’re dealing with”—Kelsey pauses—“unless it’s murder. I’m not interested in going down as an accessory,” she jokes.
“Don’t listen to negative Nancy over there, JT. I’m sure Kels actually has some really solid tips up her sleeve to help you get away with murder.”
“Luckily, murder is not yet one of my issues.”
We sit in silence for a minute, and I want to fill it, but I’m not sure how to make the transition.
“How about this?” Kelsey says. “We will talk about work, Bryn and Jameson, and the hot town gossip while we get two drinks in you. Then, we’ll go out to the putting green—the course was in decent shape today when we played, and they put up glow-in-the-dark flags at night—and you can tell us what’s going on while we all get a little practice in. That way, you don’t have to look at us while you talk about whatever is going on with you. It’s always harder to unburden yourself when you have to confront the ugly truths staring back at you in someone else’s eyes.”
It does seem like it would be easier to talk through what I’m feeling if I have a golf club in my hand, my head focused on my ball rather than their reaction to my words. Though it is getting pretty late, and the Harpers have been here for a long time now.
“Are you sure? I don’t want to make my problems your problems.”
“If it wasn’t clear you’re an only child before, that statement alone just really did it. Of course you should make your problems our problems. It’s what family does to help lighten the load for everyone. And while you aren’t technically family, we’ll take you in anyway,” Izzy says, and the open look on her face makes it seem like she truly means it.
“Okay,” I say, still not convinced they won’t see the dark side of me and realize they have somewhere else to be. But I suppose it’s worth a try. The Harpers do seem like a family who have each other’s backs. “But drinks are on me.”
“Obviously,” Kelsey replies, signaling for the waitress. “I sure as shit don’t make pro golfer money.”
We sip on whiskeys. All of us. I feel Ken Harper deserves a medal for somehow instilling solid fucking taste in alcohol in his daughters. When I ordered my drink, the women both just requested the same. With Kelsey’s scowly nature, it was almost like I was sitting here with Jameo, but instead of talking golf the entire time, I’m regaled with stories about one of the teens in town who ran face first through a glass door, Jen and Ken’s trip to France last summer, and a possible international security project that Kelsey is working on submitting a proposal for. One I’ve heard quite a bit about from Lila.
Finally, Izzy tips back her glass to get the final drops of her drink, the last of us to finish.
“Putting, then?” she asks, setting the engraved glass down on her coaster.
“Are you sure?” I ask one final time. “I totally understand if you two need to get back to town. It is getting pretty late.”
“Nah. I only had one drink, but I should still burn off a bit more alcohol before we head out. You’re not getting rid of us that easily,” Izzy replies.
I sign the bill for the table, paying for the drinks and the appetizers, and we make our way down the stairs of the restaurant to the putting green. We find our golf bags in the storage area by the clubhouse and grab our putters and a few balls. Izzy is the first on the putting green, so when I join her, she’s already tapped a golf ball toward the hole, missing by a few inches to the right. I’m about to tell her it’s her grip that’s causing her to push the ball, not her read of the green, but I decide to remain silent. No one really wants unsolicited advice, even from a golf professional. She looks up at me when I drop my four balls to the grass a few feet away, and leans her weight on her putter, giving me her full attention.
“I thought you said you weren’t going to look at me while I talk,” I say, uncomfortable with her focus.
“To be clear, Kelsey was the one who said that, and she said you didn’t have to look at us, not the other way around. But, fine.” She takes a half-hearted attempt at her next ball. “Happy?”
“I suppose I’ll take it if it’s the best I can get.”
“Smart man.”
Unsure where to start, I just keep focusing on my putting. When I’ve hit all four of my balls into or very close to the hole, I walk the five steps to pick them up before starting the routine again.
Izzy lets out an impatient sigh, drawing my attention to the silent conversation she seems to be having with her sister. Kelsey shakes her head before returning to her balls. Apparently, the strategy is to let me decide on a conversation. I think through all the things I’m worried about right now, and even though I can’t rationalize it, I ask what’s most pressing right now.
“So tell me about this Matthew guy Lila’s out with tonight.”
I swear I can hear Kelsey’s eye roll, but I keep my focus on my putting. It does help.
Izzy replies, “He’s a local guy who moved back after college and now helps run the family farm. He’s a good guy. And going to the high school games is a good way for Lila to get involved in the community.”
“Not your type, though?”
“What do you mean?”
“Why aren’t one of you two dating him if he’s such a catch?” I know I should be less of a dick about Matthew , but I can’t seem to be able to.
“What do you—” Izzy starts again but is cut off by her sister.
“Lila isn’t dating Matt, JT.”
“What?” I stand up and look at the sisters, the putter dangling from my hand.
“She told me they were.” Right?
“Did she? Because she told us he was going to introduce her to a couple of his single friends.”
“It seemed like a date to me.”
“Well, Matthew ”—Kelsey mocks the snobby way I’ve been saying his name—“is notoriously still hung up on another woman. A fact he told Lila about at the end of their dinner together the other night, so I really doubt either of them would’ve said this was a date.” Shit. I wrack my brain, but I don’t actually remember Lila saying she was going on a date, though she definitely went along with it once I reminded her she couldn’t invite someone over to sleep in our bed.
“Huh.” It’s all I can think of to say. My mind is spinning as it tries to realign everything I’ve been feeling the last few hours to incorporate this new information. I’m not sure what it means, so I drop my focus back to my golf balls.
“Why does it matter if she’s out on a date with him?” Izzy asks gently.
I don’t know. And, damn it, that’s the problem they are supposed to be out here helping me work through. So I give her the easy answer.
“I may have told my mom I was taking her as a date to this golf event I have coming up in a couple of weeks.”
“Why?” Kelsey asks at the same time her sister says, “And?”
“I needed to ask her about it, is all.”
Both sisters chuckle.
“I’m not going to talk to you about it if you’re going to laugh at me,” I say, sounding like a petulant child, even to my own ears.
“Unrelated question,” Kelsey says. “Where has Lila been sleeping this week?”
“What?” This time it’s Izzy and I asking the question at the same time. I can tell Izzy is gaping at her sister, but I remain focused on putting the white ball into the small round hole.
“You heard me. She mentioned her window broke in the storm, but she’s been surprisingly quiet about where she slept. And she hasn’t mentioned anything about her room since that next day when I was talking to her, even though every other person in Wild Bluffs who had a window broken has given me unsolicited, daily updates about the state of getting back in their rooms.” Damn. Kelsey missed her calling as a lawyer. She’s really laying this all out methodically. “The staff in the restaurant told us at dinner that most of the rooms still weren’t ready, since they’d been focused on the public areas. Now, all of this would be circumstantial at best, but then you thought Lila was out on a date with another guy and you are clearly more upset about it than a typical roommate would be.”
Well, shit. “That’s not—”
“Damn, Kels. You nailed that,” Izzy says, the pride in her voice evident.
“Didn’t you give me a speech an hour ago about helping me carry my burden? This feels like adding to it,” I say, giving them my full attention so they can see the disappointment on my face.
Izzy snorts. “I think this is exactly the family treatment you were promised. You know how you have to clean a wound out before you let it heal so the little rocks and shit don’t become ingrained in your skin? Well, imagine this as the antiseptic portion of your journey.”
“Okaaay,” I say, kind of grossed out by the visual, and not at all interested in having my emotional wounds cleansed.
Kelsey crosses her arms, still holding her putter in one hand. “Let’s try this a different way. I’m going to ask you a question, and you answer with the truth—the first thing that pops into your mind, okay?” Kelsey asks.
“Yesss,” Izzy breathes, fist-pumping a little. “I love this strategy. Plus, bonus points for stealing it from a TV show. Bryn would be so pleased.”
Kelsey and I both glare at Izzy, who seems a bit taken aback by our lack of enthusiasm.
“Have you and Lila been sleeping together since her window broke?” Kelsey asks, not waiting for me to agree to her game.
“Yes.” I guess we’re just diving right into it. But to be fair, Kelsey already figured that out. If I wasn’t already slightly scared of her and her “ninja skills” as her sisters call them, I sure would be now.
“Are you sleeping sleeping together?”
“No.”
“Are you more than friends?”
“I’m not even sure I’d call us friends.”
“Do you want to be?”
“Yes.” Shit. I’m surprised by the answer. Maybe this strategy works.
“What’s your favorite color?”
“What?”
“You were overthinking it. I’ll start again. What’s your favorite color?”
“Green.” Like Lila’s eyes. Shit.
“Do you like pizza or ice cream more?”
“Pizza.”
“Boo,” says Izzy, but Kelsey shushes her.
“Do you want to date Lila?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“I have to focus on my golf game and winning the next tournament, and Lila deserves to have the husband and kids that she’s always dreamed of. Plus, she’s Jameson’s sister.”
“Shit,” Izzy says, and it snaps me out of the trance Kelsey somehow put me under with her questions.
“We’re going to come back to the sister thing, but why does focusing on your golf game keep you from being in a relationship? You know lots of golfers who have serious girlfriends and wives, right?” Kelsey asks.
They do have serious girlfriends and wives, but they also don’t have a mom with a scar on her face and a dad who calls five times a day reminding them of the sacrifice they made.
“I owe my parents so much more than the average golfer,” I say.
“Why?” Izzy asks.
“Because my dad gave up his own dream of being a professional golfer to coach me, and my mom had to work two jobs to support the cost of my dad and I traveling everywhere and all my golf equipment. She was working so hard, she fell asleep and drove into a tree when I was younger.”
“Shit.”
“That’s scary.”
“Yeah. She has a big scar on her face from it. She was trying to make it as an actress at the time, and it completely ended that career for her. And now I try to pay them back by offering them everything they’ve ever wanted, on my dime, but since my game has gone downhill lately, my cash flow has been…tight.”
“You know you’re not responsible for the decisions your parents made when you were a kid, right?” Izzy asks.
“They made them for me. They gave up the lives they wanted, for me.”
“I’m not sure I agree, but either way, it doesn’t mean you have to give up the life you want for them,” Kelsey says.
“You hooked up with Lila in Vegas and in Phoenix and played well in those tournaments, didn’t you? You can be in a serious relationship if you want one, JT, with Lila or with someone else. Or you can be in a casual relationship and try it out. Lots of relationships start out casual and go from there. Hell, I even had a friend where she and the guy agreed to a six-week trial period.”
Fuck . Even though I’m annoyed Lila told Izzy about us, her conclusion isn’t wrong. In fact, it’d been staring me in the face this whole time. Being with Lila makes me play better. We are living in the same house. We can casually date while we are in the same place and it’s convenient. I can make the money my parents need to live the lives they want, even if I can never truly pay them back for giving up so much when I was younger.
After a long pause, Kelsey asks, “Why does it matter she’s Jameson’s sister?”
Izzy continues like she’s got a lot to say on the subject. “You’re one of his best friends. You’d think he’d be happy for two of his favorite people to date. I’ve never understood why brothers wouldn’t want their sisters to date their friends. Well, maybe it’d be awkward if they date more than one of their friends—Has Lila dated another of Jameson’s friends?”
“No.”
“Then are you actually a bad dude and Jameo just pretends to be your friend for some weird reason?” Izzy continues.
“No.”
“Then…I don’t understand.”
“Jameson is my best friend. He’s one of the only guys I actually consider to be my friend. Yeah, I’m friendly with a bunch of people and am happy to grab a beer or a bite to eat with almost anyone, but I have a very high bar for the people I consider my friends. Jameo is basically my brother. His family is my family. My parents have given up everything for me, but they are rightfully bitter about it. So they don’t love spending a lot of time with me doing normal family things like Thanksgiving or big Christmas parties. I spend most of my holidays with the Walkers. They’re some of my best memories.”
“And…you see Lila as your sister?”
“God, no. No.” I shake my head for emphasis. “No. She is about as far from my sister as someone can be. The problem is that if I were to date Lila, and we were to break up—which odds say we would—I would lose not only my girlfriend but my best friend and family too. It’s too big of a risk.”
“That seems like a bit of a stretch,” Kelsey says.
“When I was in college, I dated my friend Luke’s cousin . After reading Lila’s romance novels, I understand that I was a pretty mediocre boyfriend, but I tried to give her as much time as I could, despite having a crazy schedule between class and golf. She eventually grew tired of me not being able to go to parties with her on Friday night or walk her to her classes, and she broke up with me. It was fine, I wasn’t heartbroken or anything, but Luke basically broke up with me too. We stopped hanging out, texting. He cut me out when things ended with his cousin . Do you really think it would be less with someone’s sister?”
“It sounds like Luke was kinda a dick, but also, he was a friend in college. Those friend groups change like the fricken wind,” Izzy says.
“I don’t think you’re giving Jameson or the Walkers enough credit,” Kelsey adds. “I think they would be excited you were dating Lila, and I think if you broke up—as long as it wasn’t for like cheating on her or something—they wouldn’t kick you out of their lives. From the conversations I’ve had with Jameo, it seems like you’re just as important to him as he is to you. Plus, it’s not like you and Lila can fight any more than you currently do. Or at least that’s how it sounds from what I’ve been told.”
“That’s the other thing. Lila and I don’t get along. We fight all the time.”
“Do you, though?” Kelsey chuckles. “They say there’s a fine line between love and hate for a reason, JT. It’s the same spark—the same energy—that drives them both. It just depends on which way you decide to let it burn. And it is a decision you make. So I’ll give you the same advice I would give either of my sisters: if you want something, make it happen. Your wildest dreams aren’t going to just fall into your lap. Just don’t overthink it.”
She’s right. I know she’s right. I can focus on winning for my parents and be with Lila. There is a spark between Lila and me that I can’t deny. Jameson is a good guy. He and his parents might be surprised if I date Lila, but they wouldn’t cut me out completely. Lila and I already make every family meal awkward, it’s not like we could make it much worse.
I’ve gotten where I am right now by chasing my goals with everything I have. Lila drives me crazy in all the worst ways, but somehow, I can’t stop looking forward to every infuriating second with her. What would happen if I leaned into the energy between us instead of fighting it? What if I let myself fall for the girl who drives me insane, who challenges me, who makes me want to be someone better every time I look at her?
The thought leaves me rattled, my pulse thrumming with a mix of anticipation and something close to fear. For the first time, the idea of being with Lila isn’t just a distant fantasy I force myself to ignore—it feels real, close, like a door swinging open right in front of me.
Don’t overthink it. It doesn’t have to be a promise of forever. We’ll just set a premeditated end date for when we aren’t living together and things would get messy anyway.