You Were Mine (Rosemary Beach #9)(44)

I nodded. She didn’t have to warn me about that. Tripp was moving on. But I had to bite my tongue to keep from defending him. He had been a kid then, too. We’d both been reckless. If he hadn’t left, his parents would have shipped him off to Yale. I would have miscarried the baby regardless. It wasn’t meant to be. Nothing could have stopped that.

I had nothing to blame Tripp for. The wall I’d built to keep out all the memories that came with him finally crumbled and left me completely raw.

Tripp

Woods had texted me last night to meet him at the course at eight this morning to play a round. I hadn’t played golf in years until I moved back to Rosemary Beach. Other than surfing, there wasn’t much else to do here. I sucked at it, especially compared to Woods. He played daily.

The truth was, I needed to talk to someone, and this was a good opportunity. When we got together off the course, Della was normally around, and so were other people.

Bethy’s face as she looked at me the other night at dinner was stuck in my head, and I couldn’t get over it. Either it was wishful thinking, or she looked genuinely upset about London.

Woods was waiting at the clubhouse when I walked up. He didn’t have a caddy with him. He never did. He said he didn’t need another man to carry his shit and tell him what club to use. I had to agree with him.

He was alone, and although I had expected to see Rush or possibly Grant or Thad with him, I was relieved they weren’t there.

“It’s just us. Rush was coming, but apparently, Blaire isn’t feeling well this morning,” he said, tugging the strap of his bag up his arm. “Ready?”

“Lead the way,” I said, waving him on.

“Heads-up. Bethy is working this morning. I saw her loading the drink cart when I arrived,” Woods said as he stopped at the first hole.

She was here. OK, good. That was good. I could get my water from her. No big deal.

“You and London seeing each other again, huh? Wasn’t expecting that,” Woods said as he pulled out the driver he needed.

I set my bag down and glanced around to make sure there were no drink carts in the vicinity. This was not a conversation I wanted Bethy to overhear. “We ran into each other here last week. Been out a few times since. I needed to see if I could move on, but I’m not sure I can. It isn’t working. I think I’m OK, and then I see Bethy and realize I’m still completely f*cked.”

Woods nodded, then focused on his ball before taking a swing. It landed and rolled close to the green. Not surprising. “Didn’t look like Bethy was real thrilled about you having a date, either. I was worried she was going to dump food on someone, she was so distracted by you.”

“That’s the thing that f*cks me up. At the wedding, we made progress. Real good progress, but she put a stop to it out of the blue. Told me there was no chance, even after I told her I loved her.” I lowered my voice for the last part.

Woods’s eyebrows shot up. “You told her you loved her?”

“Yeah. I did. I do. I always have.”

Woods let out a whistle and shook his head. “Damn, dude. I wasn’t going to lie, I had planned on trying to get you to give Bethy one more chance. You seemed so happy the night of my wedding when you came to say good night. Then, watching Bethy ogle you the other night, I figured someone needed to give in. But I didn’t know you pulled out the big guns and she shot you down.”

That wasn’t helping. I jerked a driver out of my bag and walked over to the tee. I didn’t have a reply for that. I focused all my energy on beating the hell out of the ball. Unfortunately, that sent it flying over to the nearest trees.

“The hole is that way. Where the flag is,” Woods said with a chuckle.

I stalked past him and shoved my club back into the bag. We headed to the trees, since my ball was closer to us. Focusing on this game wasn’t going to be possible if I was thinking about the finality of things with Bethy.

“Can I ask you something?” Woods broke into my thoughts.

“Sure, but doesn’t mean I’ll answer.”

“When you think about your future, kids, wife, house, et cetera, who is it you see beside you?”

That was easy. “Bethy. Always has been. Since that summer.”

Woods stopped when we neared my ball. Luckily, it wasn’t blocked by any trees just yet. It was right there on the edge. I could still salvage this shot. “Things worth having don’t come easy,” Woods said. “You have to fight for it until you’re tired of fighting, and then you take a breather and fight some more.” He squeezed my shoulder. “Don’t give up. You’ll regret it.”

I hadn’t known how to reply to Woods’s advice, but it wouldn’t stop replaying in my head. He only beat me by twelve strokes on the front nine, and we were headed into the back nine when the drink cart came over the hill. Woods noticed it, too, and glanced back at me. He didn’t say anything, but I could see him silently reminding me of what he had said.

Bethy slowed down and parked the cart. She glanced at me nervously as she stepped down and walked our way.

“’Morning, Bethy. Heard you felt bad yesterday and Darla sent you home. Hope you’re better today,” Woods said as she approached.

Bethy’s eyes shifted to me again, then quickly back to Woods. “I’m better today. Thanks,” she replied. “Can I get y’all a drink?” Her focus was on Woods.