Ex-Con Billionaire

The sun hung lazily in the afternoon sky, stretching long, golden fingers across the well-worn green of Petey’s Mini Golf Course. The air carried a hint of fresh-cut grass mixed with the sweet scent of kettle corn from the stand near the entrance. Laughter and the occasional clink of putters against golf balls filled the air, blending with the distant shrieks of kids riding the carousel in the adjacent amusement park.

Angela stepped back from the sixth hole, gripping her putter loosely as she watched Carson line up his shot. His brows furrowed in concentration, his lips pressed together in a tight, determined line. The wind ruffled his dark hair, and for a second, he looked more boyish than she was used to seeing him—less the rough-edged survivor, more the kid who once believed in dreams.

Carson took his swing. The ball glided over the artificial green, spun a little too wide on the curve, and bounced off the edge of the hole. Angela stifled a laugh as he groaned in frustration.

“I hate this hole,” he muttered, raking a hand through his thick hair.

Angela grinned, stepping closer. “I think you just love complaining.”

His lips twitched, a smirk forming as he leaned on his putter. “Maybe. But I’d still come here every day if I could.”

Angela tilted her head. “Yeah?”

Carson’s eyes flickered with something softer, a rare kind of vulnerability. He let out a breath and shrugged. “After my dad left, my mom used to take me and my brother here all the time.”

Angela felt something inside her tighten. She could picture it—two boys, just kids, lost in a game of mini golf while their mother watched, smiling through whatever pain she was carrying.

“I love this place,” Angela said, glancing around.

Carson nodded, his gaze distant. “Yeah. I bet my mom was tired of it, but almost every Saturday, she’d wake us up and say, ‘Wanna play a round?’” His voice softened on the last part, almost as if he were saying it to himself rather than to her.

Angela smiled, squeezing his arm lightly. “I bet she loved spending time with you two.”

A moment passed between them, heavy with unspoken words. Then Carson gave a small nod. “Yeah.”

She let the silence settle before nudging him with her shoulder. “Come on. Let’s get some ice cream.”

Carson hesitated, just barely. He shifted his weight, glancing toward the ice cream stand, then back at the mini-golf course. His jaw tensed. He didn’t have the extra money for it.

Angela caught his hand before he could protest. “Don’t worry, it’s on me. Come on.”

She tugged him forward, their fingers tangling together as she led the way.

Carson let out a breathy chuckle and shook his head. “You know, after tomorrow’s job, you won’t have to pay for me no more.”

Angela’s steps faltered just slightly. She knew exactly what he meant—the job he was talking about. And she hated it.

“There’s still time to tell Hank you can’t do it,” she said, her voice gentle but firm. “I make enough money. I can take care of us.”

Carson stopped walking, turning to face her fully. His dark eyes met hers, filled with something both warm and heavy. “Baby,” he murmured, “you deserve a man that can give you the world.”

Angela’s throat tightened, but before she could respond, he gestured toward the amusement park just beyond the course. “One day soon, we’re gonna have one of these in our backyard,” he said, a small, boyish grin creeping onto his face. “I promise.”

Angela exhaled softly, shaking her head. She wanted to believe him. Maybe a part of her even did.

Carson’s grip on her hand tightened, his voice dropping as he added, “And trust me, you don’t have to worry about Hank. He’s got this job planned out to the second.”

Angela swallowed, forcing down the fear that curled in her stomach. She wanted to fight him on it, to make him see what she saw—that no plan was ever foolproof, that no amount of money was worth risking everything.

But Carson wasn’t just fighting for money. He was fighting for dignity, for something he felt like he owed her. And that was harder to argue with.

So she took a breath, let the worry slip from her face, and squeezed his hand instead. “I just worry about—” She stopped herself. There was no point in saying it, not now.

Instead, she forced a smile and tugged him toward the ice cream stand. “Never mind. Let’s get that ice cream.”

Carson hesitated only a second before following, their fingers still entwined. The sun dipped lower, casting long shadows over the course as they walked.

And though neither of them said it, both knew the weight of the promise that hung between them.