Page 77 of Golden Days

I bite my tongue and lie, “A few days.”

She stops massaging the tight muscles and looks down at me with her no-bullshit expression. Her dark blond eyebrows are raised, thin lips pursed.

I squirm and sigh a frustrated breath. “A couple weeks,” I say.

The glare she gives me makes me want to shrink further into the massage table.

“What the hell?” she says, digging her thumb into a particularly tight spot.

I wince and breathe deeply through my mouth. “Fuck.”

“We’re done,” she says, motioning me to stand.

I do, rubbing my shoulder and trying not mask the disappointment I feel with myself.

“Why wouldn’t you say something sooner?” she asks.

“I’m fine,” I bite out. “I haven’t been sleeping well. I’m not injured or anything like that, I’m fine. Just stressed.”

“Rest, and plenty of water. If I catch you leaving your hotel room at all during this tournament, I will personally kick you in the nuts,” she scolds.

It’s at that moment that Hazel enters the room. Her eyes widen as she takes in the scene. Lauren pissed and scolding me, and me rubbing my shoulder.

“Everything okay?” she squeaks.

“Peachy,” I grumble, walking around her.

It’s been two weeks of constantly walking on eggshells. I’ll walk into the kitchen as she’s finishing dinner, and she hands me a plate but takes hers to her room. I’m in the simulator and she makes some excuse about needing to take a call with Bryan. And it’s not just her avoiding me, I’ve been doing the same. Murray was right, I can’t be distracted.

Except I’ve felt like shit this whole time. I overthink every single conversation and interaction I have with her. Every look, every accidental touch. It’s driving me fucking crazy. I can’t even sleep well most nights.

She catches up with me as we head to the car. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Not really but now is not the time. We’re leaving for New York first thing in the morning.” I say, wincing as I open the car door with a little too much force.

Hazel frowns and stops me with a hand on my bicep, brown eyes looking up at me with concern. “I know things have been a little strained, but you can talk to me.”

I clench my jaw and look up towards the dark sky. How I wish that were true. “I appreciate it. But I’m fine,” I say, gently shaking off her grip. A drop of rain lands on my forehead. “We should go.”

I try not to dwell too much on the way her face falls, disappointed that I’m not opening up. But I don’t think I can, not about this.

“Okay,” she says, rounding the car for the passenger seat.

Two weeks. We’ve been keeping each other at arm’s length through dinners, car rides, and everything in between. But when it comes to training, she’s been giving it one hundred and ten percent.

In a short amount of time, she’s learned so much from Bryan, while also giving her own suggestions and input to the short game and green approach. She’s proven herself to be quite invaluable to my team.

To me.

The awkward silence stretches as she avoids my gaze, looking out the window. I feel the tension in the air. It’s so thick, I could probably slice it with a knife. The more speed we pick up, the more the rain intensifies, pouring down, and yet all I can think about is how I’ve hurt her feelings by shutting down the conversation between us.

“Hazel,” I say, glancing at her in the passenger seat.

She briefly meets my eye and raises an eyebrow.

“I swear I’m not always like this before a tournament.” I chuckle awkwardly.

“What? Uptight?” she teases, the corners of her lips twitching.