Dad chuckled. “Don’t sweat it.” Then he tipped my chin back up. “We all fall for pimply, odd-statured people with arrogant attitudes.”

I giggled. “You’re crazy. Go swing!”

He put on a smile, walking forward and getting into position. When he tipped the ball into the hole with the flat edge, he went to take it out, and I jotted his score down.

“I’m guessing he isn’t your type then, huh?” Dad looked at me as we started towards the golf cart. I peered up at him, my hat shielding my face from the sun. There was gentleness in his eyes, his curiosity burning. I guess I didn’t expect him to know anything about this—my relationship life, that is. I never talked about boys with my father. Like, ever.

“He’s… way too simple-minded for me.” I glanced back, watching the Hunts struggle with which club to start with.

“Yeah, that I can see. You’re a smart girl. You need someone on your level—or even a little higher.”

“Mm-hmm.”

“So what is it that peaks your interest?”

“Ya know…” I hesitated, unsure as I started the cart and drove to the next course. “I don’t really have a type, but for some reason I always end up with a football player at my side. I don’t get it.”

“Hot bods,” he mused, grinning.

I choked on a laugh, twisting my lips and putting the cart in park. “It feels weird talking to you about this.”

“You might as well get it out now. I’m sure I won’t be able to remember it by tomorrow… maybe even tonight.”

I swallowed thickly, but Dad acted as if his comment wasn’t meant to be damaging. For some reason, that comment brought me right back to reality. The fact that he had Alzheimer’s. The fact that he most likely wouldn’t remember my first name by the following morning, maybe even the same evening.

Hopping out of the cart, Dad pulled out one of the tees and stuck it in the grass. I stepped out and dropped the bag, watching as he stood there for a while with the golf ball in hand and a confused expression now on his face.

I realized what was happening before he could ask, “Where’d I get this ball from?”

Picking up the bag of clubs, I walked towards him and took the ball away, pulling out the tee from the grass. “We’ve been out her for about two hours now, Dad. I think we should head back home.”

“Uh… yeah. I guess.” He said nothing more as I collected the clubs and tossed them in the back of the cart. Dad climbed inside, sitting forward, eyes ahead. He was disappointed. I pretended his forgetfulness didn’t bother me by mentioning how great his swing was—how he still had it. It made him feel somewhat better, but not entirely.

The car ride was quiet on the way back home. We arrived in fifteen minutes, catching Margie in the kitchen, whipping up some lunch. “Well, look who’s back!” she chimed, turning around with a pink apron tied at her waist. “How was it?” she asked as I shut the garage door behind me.

“A disaster,” Dad grumbled.

“Was not,” I argued. “It was great, Margie. He still has his swing.”

“That’s wonderful!” Her chubby cheeks spread as she looked from me to my dad. “Are you hungry, Mr. Knight?”

“No, no.” He waved a hand. “I just want to rest.” He said this while he was already walking out of the kitchen. Margie quickly turned the stove off, following after him but giving me a wink before disappearing. She had it from here.

Blowing out a deep breath, I sat at the counter and ran my fingers across my face. It was getting worse for him. I didn’t know how much more I could handle.

Slipping off the stool, I tiptoed upstairs and took a shower, ridding myself of the ninety-degree heat. Once I finished, I got dressed and heard my phone buzz in the pocket of my shorts.

I figured it was Izzy or even Mariah. I was wrong.

It was Theo.

Theo: Plans tonight?

Me: …not sure yet.

Theo: Can we meet?

Me: What if I end up having plans?

Theo: I asked first.

Me: Actually, no. Someone already beat you to the punch.

I just haven’t confirmed or anything yet.

Theo: A guy??

I frowned, but then I smiled, pleased to know he even cared.

Me: No. My roommate is coming to Bristle.

Wants me to hang with her.

Theo: A specific place?

Me: At stupid Brix.

Me: I’ll be free after the club…

Theo: Well if u get bored u should come to Dane’s.

Only a block away from Brix.

Drinks on me if you decide to come, LK. No pressure.

Little Knight.

My cheeks blazed like a furnace. If Theo was coming to the city, that meant I needed to dress accordingly—look too hot to touch. I called Mariah and told her I’d show. She was beyond thrilled.

After setting a time, I relaxed during the rest of my day, taking up the idea of reading a book by the pool and wondering just how I would make it through a night that ended with Theo Black. I didn’t confirm with him on purpose. I didn’t need him thinking I was too eager to see him, even though I was.

I thought of every bad scenario—someone knowing he was Izzy’s dad, seeing us put on a display of affection in public or quite possibly catching us making googly eyes at one another. That person would then inform Izzy or someone that knew her, leaving us both fucked and left to drown.

But then I thought of the good.

I could drink with him… again.

I could have a good time with him beneath dim lights. Dane’s, a place where no one worried about what anyone else was doing. A place where alcoholics could drink without limits and women didn’t have to worry about being harassed because the alcoholics cared more for the bottles than various amounts of ass flouncing around.

I could smell him again… taste him again… hold him again.

There were way too many possibilities, and although I had those bad scenarios in the back of my mind, nothing could top the excitement I felt coursing through me when I thought of him.

I was ready. I needed to see Theo.

And I needed him immediately, in every way possible.

Eleven

Dane’s was just like how it used to be during my worst times—dim lights, a weird peanut smell, and annoying alternative music that was, fortunately, easy to ignore with the flat screens plastered on every cement wall, streaming ESPN. The waitresses still dressed like they had no mother to raise them. Short leather skirts or short black shorts and tank tops that showcased a large pair of tits.

I picked up the whiskey Marcel slid across the bar, giving him a quick bob of my head as I lifted the glass to my lips. He returned the gesture before turning his back to me with a rag and a wet glass in hand, clearing it of soap and droplets.

After taking a long sip, allowing the burn to further relax me, I flicked my wrist, checking the time. It was nearing midnight. I thought for sure she’d make an appearance before now, but I guess I was wrong.

My leg bounced, my shoe pressing into the metal bar of the chair.

I looked around, thinking maybe she was somewhere else. Maybe looking for me? Shit, who was I kidding?

She knew better.

Maybe it was a good thing she didn’t show.

We needed to get over each other. Though I hated rejection and being stood up, I could understand a no-show. And the worst part? I couldn’t be upset about it. She was young. I was twenty years older than her. She was in college with her whole life ahead of her, and I’d already established mine. I owned a car shop and had settled my party-going ways a long time ago.