Page 69 of Sweet Spot
I fake a yawn and look away from the screen. “Eh.”
When I glance back, he’s pulling his shirt over his head.
I sit forward, and he grins. “More interested now, huh?”
“Show them to me again.”
He does, and this time, at the end of them, he adds another, something he calls man on the flying trapeze.
“Why do you know all these?”
“My pop taught me. He kept it in his truck, and when I’d go with him to the golf course, he’d teach me a trick and then tell me to master it before I did anything else. Mostly, I think he was just trying to get me out of his hair for a while. A bucket of balls only kept me occupied for so long, and he spent four or five hours at a time with clients.” He stops and looks at the yo-yo in his hand. “I’d actually forgotten about this thing until I found it in some of his stuff.”
“Well, I never thought I’d say this about yo-yoing, but that was hot. Take your pants off and do it again.”
He shakes his head, and a deep chuckle makes my insides turn to mush. Lincoln happy and laughing makes everything seem better. Well, almost everything.
He must sense my mood shifting back because his voice changes. “Get some sleep, Keira. You worked hard today. Tomorrow will be better.”
25
Keira
It rainson and off all week. Practices are inside, and by Thursday, we’re all sick of being cooped up inside the small, indoor practice room and ready to get outside and take some real swings outside.
Coach dismisses us, telling us to get over to the driving range either tonight or early in the morning. Teams will begin showing up tomorrow afternoon for our weekend tournament.
“Are you going over?” Abby asks at the same time Coach says my name.
“Not sure. Go ahead. I’ll text you when I’m done.”
Coach talks to Brittany, and I approach slowly. He and I have been getting along just fine since he mostly ignores me, sometimes muttering under his breath when I do things to annoy him, but I’ve stopped letting him rile me. He isn’t worth it, and I don’t need him now that I have Lincoln.
“You wanted to see me?” I ask when I reach him.
He nods, and Brittany opens her stance to include me instead of leaving. My gut twists with the look of apprehension on her face.
She drops her eyes to the ground as Coach speaks. “Brittany’s been cleared to play at the tournament this weekend.”
“But—” I glance between them. “How?”
“My wrist is better.” She lifts her arm and smiles.
“But she hasn’t practiced in weeks. I’m a better choice to play this weekend.” I look to Brittany with what I hope is an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry, but it’s true.”
“You don’t get to make the decision.” Coach Potter yanks at his belt, hitching it higher on his hip. “I make the call, and I’m including Brittany in the lineup. I’m sorry, Keira. You’re just not consistent enough in your tournament play.”
I ball my fists in irritation. I don’t know if I’m angrier with him or myself. I text Abby that I’m not going to the driving range, and I do something I haven’t done in a long time, I crawl into bed before dark.
Lincoln texts around our usual time, but I tell him I’m exhausted and going to sleep early and turn off my phone. I need to tell him that I’m not playing this weekend so he doesn’t bother trying to make it, but I don’t want his, or anyone else’s, pity or empty words of encouragement. I want to wallow.
I’m surprised when Abby shows up at our dorm, but one look at her face tells me it’s solely for my benefit.
“You heard?”
She nods. “Brittany was over at the guys’ house. Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I just wanted to be alone.”
