Page 17 of Serenity at Seagrove
"Yeah, you do. You agreed because, for the first time since you got injured, somebody is offering to help you without making you feel like a broken man."
"What's that supposed to mean?" Archer asked, looking up sharply.
"It means Luna sees you as a person. She refuses to see you as a tragedy, which is what you see when you think of yourself. Maybe that scares you more than any amount of physical pain."
Archer stood up and walked to the window. "You're starting to sound just like her, you know. All this talk of feelings and seeing people for who they are."
"Well, maybe that's because she's right," Dawson said. "When was the last time you did something just because it might help, not because you were trying to prove something or be the best?"
The question hit harder than Archer wanted to admit. His whole life had been about proving things—proving he was good enough, proving he deserved his spot on the tour, proving he would come back from every single setback, no matter how big it was. Until this one. This one had taken him out. If not physically forever, then definitely mentally. He knew his professional career was over.
"Her tea was different," he suddenly said, surprising himself.
"Her what?"
"Her tea. She gave me some blend that her grandmother in Puerto Rico made. It was..." He struggled to find the right words. "It was like nothing I've ever tasted before. Then she talked about her grandmother and about finding peace in certain places. I don't know, it all made sense at the time somehow."
Dawson was quiet for a moment. "You know what I think?"
"I'm one-hundred percent sure you're going to tell me."
"I think you've spent so long being Archer Hawk, the golf pro, that you've forgotten how to just be Archer. And maybe that's what really scares you about going to these classes. It's not the breathing or the movement or any of that stuff. It's the fact that, for an hour, you'll just have to be yourself."
Archer turned to him. “When did you become so philosophical?"
"Probably around the time I married a bookstore owner," Dawson said, laughing. "I guess Julie's rubbing off on me."
"God help us all," Archer muttered.
"Well, either way, I stand by what I said. I remember the guy you were when we were growing up. And this isn't him."
"Well, there's a lot of water under the bridge as we get older," Archer said, shrugging.
"I know you're still in there. And I liked that guy."
"Are you saying you don't likethisguy?"
"He's okay," Dawson said, smiling. "But I know he can be better. You need to get back to who you were as a person, without all the other stuff. I think that's the only way you're ever going to be happy."
"Well, the problem is, I have no idea how to do that."
"Speaking of Julie," Dawson said, changing the subject, "she mentioned SuAnn invited you to Sunday dinner?”
Archer groaned. "Does everybody in town know my business?"
"Pretty much. Small town. You remember that. Besides, SuAnn's Sunday dinners are legendary around here. And she's apparently going to try her hand at Puerto Rican cuisine."
"Ah, so let me guess. Luna's going to be there."
Dawson's grin widened. "Now why would that matter?"
"It absolutely doesn't matter," Archer said a little too quickly. "I just don't need the whole town watching me like I'm some kind of project they need to fix."
"Nobody's trying to fix you, man. They're trying to include you. There's a difference. Stop being so defensive."
Archer looked back at the workout clothes on the bed. He'd laid out a simple gray T-shirt and black shorts, but today they were mocking him. How many times had he gotten dressed for practice without a second thought? And now, all of a sudden, this felt very complicated.
"You know what Luna said? She said sometimes the bravest thing we can do is try something new."
