Total pages in book: 118
Estimated words: 111959 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 560(@200wpm)___ 448(@250wpm)___ 373(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 111959 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 560(@200wpm)___ 448(@250wpm)___ 373(@300wpm)
God, now that the whole news story was sinking in, embarrassment scaled the insides of her throat, drying out her mouth.
She fought between the impulse to rant and the voice of reason in her head, reminding her that without caddying, she’d never be able to rebuild the shop. Wells had done her a huge favor—and he couldn’t control the press. Still, she’d asked him that day in the Golden Tee, standing in a foot of flood water, to please not make her a charity case. But here they were—and it was so much worse than she could have predicted.
Wells caught up with Josephine right as she reached an outdoor patio and they emerged from the lobby together, striding in silence until they hit the edge of the golf course, as if by some tacit agreement that the green was where they would have it out.
“Josephine, you need to let me explain.”
She took off her shoe and threw it at his head. “I don’t need to do anything.”
Wells ducked, watching the footwear sail over his right shoulder. “You’re right. Let me start over.” His silence extended longer than she expected. “First off, the fact that you stood up for me in there even after seeing and hearing . . . that bullshit. God, belle. I don’t fucking deserve you. Okay? Can we just get that part out of the way?”
Her whole face felt as though it welled up. “And? Keep going.”
Wells looked like a man walking on a tightrope tied between two skyscrapers. “When I called Buck for help, I just wanted to get back on the tour by any means necessary. I never thought it would go this far. Never thought you’d become some kind of ridiculous narrative.”
“I’m not a charity case,” she said in a strangled whisper.
“Damn right you’re not.” He slammed a fist to his chest. “I’m the charity case here. It’s me. You’re the one bringing me back from extinction.”
Listening to Wells put himself down wasn’t making Josephine feel any better. “What are they saying about the shop? Are my parents going to find out the insurance had lapsed? That needing the money for repairs and oh God, insulin is the reason I’m caddying for you?”
He closed his eyes. “Yes.”
“Wells.” She covered her face with her hands. “This isn’t happening. Do you know how hard I had to work to make them trust me? To believe they could let go and let me handle the shop and my condition? Now they know I’m a fraud.”
“You. Are not. A fraud. Don’t you dare. You can’t control hurricanes and a fucked-up health-care system, Josephine. You are the furthest thing from a fraud I’ve ever met in my life.” He ripped at his hair. “I’m going to take care of this. I’m going to fix their misconceptions about you, about us, the first chance I get. Tonight.”
“Leave it alone, Wells. Please. You’re only going to draw more attention to the story.”
He stared at her hard for a moment, before pacing away and shouting a curse up at the sky. “This is my fault. I shouldn’t have trusted Buck. But you have to believe me, I never thought it would go further than the tour directors. I’m sorry, Josephine.”
She exhaled sharply. “I know.”
A heavy pause ensued. “I’m afraid to ask where this leaves us.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean . . .” He turned around again, but his eyes were a lot more haunted this time. “You’d be well within your rights to tell me to fuck off.”
“I’m not going to do that. I might be mad right now, but I know . . . I know some parts of that story are correct. You are helping me.”
“That pales in comparison to what you’ve already done for me, Josephine. You make anything feel possible. You woke me up again.”
She took several deep breaths, trying to comb through her scattered pride—her optimism that had been shot full of bullet holes—and find a way forward. Taking some time to sit and think privately might have done her a lot of good, but this wasn’t the kind of frustration that could be slept on. His words were beautiful, but they didn’t change the situation—and it wouldn’t look different in the morning.
Earning respect meant taking her job seriously now. Earning respect meant convincing people within the sport to take her seriously. Other caddies, golfers, officials, spectators. A romance with her boss could preclude her from that. In addition to the angle already taken by the media, being in a public relationship with Wells would only diminish her capabilities more.
Josephine could hear the speculation now.
She landed that job only because she’s his girlfriend.
What a stand-up guy, taking care of her like that.
“I’ll be at the tournament in California, but I think it’s probably a good idea if we just back off on . . . whatever was happening between us. Okay?”