37. Lila
Chapter thirty-seven
Lila
“The weather is going to be great for your round today,” I say the next morning, looking at my weather app to see what the weather will be like when he tees off at 1:13 p.m. today.
JT grunts a response yet again, and as sad as his lack of conversation makes me, I’m not surprised. JT was a zombie last night, all one-word answers and head nods. As he turned his back to me, curled up on his side, and went to sleep, I’d wanted to lash out, to demand his attention, but I knew I couldn’t. Because I knew his secret, even if he didn’t trust me enough to tell me himself.
Annoyed JT hadn’t taken me with him to meet his parents when they first arrived last night, I’d huffily headed to the bathroom after he abandoned me with Bryn and Jameo. On my way back, I’d heard JT’s voice and had taken a detour, following the sound to a back hallway. I stopped against the wall just before the corner, able to hear everything without them seeing me.
Knowing I should leave but too intrigued by the argument unfolding between the Johnsons, I stayed, listening to JT’s parents confess to spending all their money plus the funds they were able to take from JT as well. At least, that’s how I heard it. JT seemed more concerned about getting his parents the money they needed than correcting the injustice done to him.
As their conversation wrapped up, I slipped in a different door to the event space, meeting JT at the table. I tried to ignore the burning in my chest when he introduced me to his parents as Jameo’s sister Lila, recognizing it wasn’t about me. He’s been on autopilot since then, a pleasant smile plastered to his face, but no other sign of life behind his eyes.
“How are your eggs?” I try again.
“Fine,” he says before shoveling another forkful into his mouth, his eyes focused on his phone. At least when I ask him about his food he takes a bite of it. I’ll just have to figure out how to work it into the conversation about twelve more times. Totally doable.
I’m worried about JT, but I know how important his game is for him today, so I’m doing my best to keep everything positive and lighthearted, knowing I will eventually have to confess to knowing about the situation with JT’s parents.
I sigh and then quickly cover my mouth with my hand. Now is not the time to be melancholic over the fact that JT doesn’t seem to be inclined to tell me about his family’s issues.
JT’s knee is bouncing again, the fingers of his right hand circling and circling the stem of his water glass.
“Hey,” I say, reaching out and squeezing his fingers. “You’re going to do great today.”
“Yeah.”
“These eggs sure are tasty, right?” I ask, letting go of his fingers so he can take another bite.
“Really good.” He scoops up another forkful, and I would find my ability to control his actions highly amusing if I weren’t so worried about him. He’s not okay.
I manipulate him into eating two-thirds of his breakfast before I give up, and we take the elevator back to our room in silence. I stare at JT in the mirror-covered elevator, taking in the dark circles under his eyes and the downward pull to his lips that is so unfamiliar on his normally sunny face.
Don’t say anything, Lila . I’d decided last night it wasn’t the time to admit to JT that I overheard his conversation yesterday, but as the morning wears on, I’m genuinely starting to be worried about JT. He’s not doing okay, and he’s never going to be able to perform like he wants to if he’s in this headspace.
As we enter the room, JT bangs his shoulder against the door, and instead of reacting in any normal way, he just keeps moving inside. Okay, maybe waiting to say something isn’t the right plan. Shit. Why don’t I know what to do here? I’m sure Bryn or Kelsey would, but I can’t get their advice without having to admit that I spied on my boyfriend last night. Sure, it was initially an accident, but I intentionally stood there and listened to their whole conversation, something the Harper sisters would likely find morally repugnant.
Uncertain if it’s an appropriate time for an intervention, I decide to ease into it.
“Are you okay?” I ask.
“Mmhmm,” he replies, his voice monotone as he sits in the brown chair in the corner, endlessly watching videos his dad has sent him about his game.
Okay, then . You tried. Just drop it.
Except I can’t drop it. The man I’m falling in love with is struggling, and I feel like I need to do something to try to make it better.
“Do you want to talk about it?” I ask.
“Nothing to talk about.”
“Is everything okay with your parents?”
“Yep.”
“JT,” I say, exasperation lacing my tone. Is he really going to sit there and lie to me? It’s one thing not to tell me everything going on in his life—even though it hurts knowing he doesn’t want to share with me—but to have him outright lie to my face? My anger is quickly overpowering my sympathy and my reason.
“You’re sure you want to stick with that answer?” I ask, dropping down to sit on the end of the bed across from him.
He doesn’t respond, the sound of his father’s voice critiquing his form filling the space instead.
“JT!” I yell. Great, I’m yelling now.
“What?” he asks, like he just realized someone is in the room with him.
“Look, I didn’t want to do this right now, but you’re kinda scaring me. Can you please talk to me about what’s going on?”
“Nothing,” he lies, his blue eyes meeting mine. They look dull, and my heart aches as I mourn the loss of his normal twinkle.
“That’s not true!” I shout. “I know you fought with your parents last night. I know they lost all their money. I know.”
“You…know?” he asks, his voice barely rising with the question, so it comes out as a statement instead.
“Yes. I accidentally heard you all talking in the hall. And I’m worried about you, JT. You’re not handling it well.”
“Oh, really? And you get to decide that, huh?”
I hold up my hands in a placating gesture. “I’m just worried about you. You’re…despondent.”
His eyes flash at that, and I recognize the signs of JT about to enter battle. As worried as it makes me, I’m also glad to see the flicker of life in him.
“I’m focused , Lila. If you listened in on my conversation, which is a real dick move by the way, you know how important today is to me and my parents.”
“It was an accident,” I defend myself before realizing I’m getting off track. “Look, I’m sorry about invading your privacy, but I’m not sorry I found out. This level of focus is not healthy. You barely touched your food this morning. You ran into the goddamn door and didn’t even flinch. You’re in your head. You’re stressed. That’s not conducive for anyone doing their best work.”
“And what would you know about it, huh? You’ve had a job for all of six weeks now. I’ve been golfing at the highest level for almost a decade. Don’t try to tell me how to do my job, Lila. I’ve been successfully navigating it without you for a long time now.”
“I’m just trying to help,” I say, and I hate how small my voice is. “Jameo always says he plays worse when he tries too hard. I’m just…trying to help. Trying to support you.”
“Well, you’re doing a poor job of it.” He’s leaning forward now, his voice an angry rumble. “And I’m not Jameo. I’ve carried the guilt of my parents’ sacrifice my entire life. I’ve watched my dad’s video commentary, day after day, week after week, year after fucking year since I was nine. It reminds me of all he’s done for me. All the hours he’s poured into my career and my happiness. Don’t act like you know what’s best for me.”
“Okay. Okay. I’m sorry,” I say. “I just wanted you to know I’m here to support you. I can help you.”
“Oh, really? Do you have a few million dollars in your purse I can borrow?”
A tear runs down my cheek, and I wipe it away quickly, embarrassed how poorly this has gone.
“No,” I say, even though it was a hypothetical question, as we both know I have nowhere near the amount of money he needs to help his parents.
“Well, then, I guess the only thing left you can do to help is to let me focus.”
The tears are openly falling down my cheeks as JT turns his attention back to his phone, dismissing me and our conversation. I wipe them with the hem of my shirt as I stand up from the bed and head toward the door.
“I’m going to go get some coffee,” I say, though, as expected, JT doesn’t respond.
I slide to the floor as soon as the door to our room closes, pulling my knees to my chest as I cry. Knowing it’s my fault for pushing when I shouldn’t have, but not knowing what I should’ve done better.