The Best Mistake

by O'Gorman, Cookie

  The next sound I heard was nothing but dial tone.

  “Love you, too,” I said, even though she was already gone. Incredible, I thought. Throughout the span of that short conversation, I’d gone from an accused thief to a lifesaver all because of a stupid sweater. Nice to know Mom thought so highly of me.

  I was still stewing when another text came through.

  Walter: URGENT, contact me ASAP. It’s a newsroom emergency!

  Seemed there were a lot of “emergencies” today. As I was reading it again, a second text joined the first.

  Walter: Honor? Did you get my text? I have news. It concerns you, and it’s important. Please call me immediately!

  I hit the call button, and Walter picked up on the first ring.

  “Did you see?” he said, his voice full of barely repressed excitement. “Have you been on The Howler site yet?”

  “No,” I said, already reaching for my computer, “I haven’t had a chance. Was something wrong with the article? I triple-checked to make sure I had all of my facts correct.”

  Walter laughed. “Something wrong? Goodness no! Your article is a revelation, a Godsend to this tiny paper. Everyone’s raving about it!”

  “Walter,” I laughed, “be serious. It was just a small 500-word piece. And who’s everyone? Our 10 loyal readers don’t usually rave—unless it’s about the crappy campus parking situation.”

  He sighed. “It really is a travesty how much you kids pay in tuition only to never find a decent parking space.”

  “Hey, preaching to choir.”

  “But Honor, focus please. Have you seen the page yet?”

  The Howler site was finally done loading. “I’m on there now, but I really don’t know why…you…”

  My words trailed off because I’d just seen the visitor count and had to do a double take. The counter on the main page was now at 91,502.

  “Wow,” I breathed. “Weren’t we sitting at something like 800 a few days ago?”

  Walter sounded smug. “It was at 804 two days ago. Since you posted your article on the O’Briens, the count has risen by astronomical proportions. This is all thanks to you and that wonderful family, my girl.”

  “This can’t be because of my article,” I said, clicking on the picture I’d paired with the story. It was a great shot I’d managed to get before leaving the practice field. Archer, Baylor, Chase and Dex had their backs to the camera, and I’d captured the moment when one of them (Baylor, I think) had made a joke, and they’d turned, all smiling to each other. Well, Archer had just been frowning less than usual, but still. “It has to be something else.”

  “Have you looked at the comments?” he said.

  “Doing that now.” I began scrolling, getting all the way to the bottom and finding…a crap ton of comments. They were mostly from students, but there were some left by alumni, professors and just people in the community as well. Walter was right. They loved the story. If I needed something to erase the crappy convo with my mom, this was the perfect pick-me-up. “That’s…that’s…incredible! Walter, your idea about covering the team and family was a definite winner. Congratulations!”

  “Thank you, my dear, but you’re the one who wrote it,” he said. “And you did a brilliant job at giving people a taste of what The Howler has to offer. Bravo!”

  “Aw thank you, I—”

  “Now, for your follow-up,” he cut in, “I was thinking of delving even deeper. People can’t get enough of the O’Briens. They are salivating for more.”

  “More?” I said faintly.

  “Well, of course,” he said. “I was thinking to start we’d do a series of profiles, one for each brother.”

  I swallowed. “You really think people would like those?”

  “Honor, did you even read the comments? These guys are like a boy band, only instead of music, they play baseball. Each one has their own fangirls and fanboys. The O’Brien brothers are talented ball players, and it certainly doesn’t hurt that they’re easy on the eyes.”

  “I hadn’t noticed,” I lied.

  “Hmm, well, that’s probably because you are such a professional and would never let a pretty face turn your head.” Walter was a fantastic investigative journalist, and I was sure he could smell my lie from a mile away, but he didn’t call me on it. Bless his heart. “This would obviously require more time spent with the team, more in-depth interviews. For all intents and purposes, you’d be living and breathing all things O’Brien. I know it will be a lot, but I think you’re up to the task.”

  He sounded so confident, but my pulse rate was rising at the thought of spending more time with the O’Briens. One O’Brien in particular if I was being honest.

  “I don’t know,” I said. “The idea is wonderful, Walter. And I’d hate to let you down, but—”

  “Honor, I know this is your senior year, and you’ve got a lot going on. But there’s a big story here. I want my best reporter on it.”

  I took a deep breath.

  “In case you didn’t know, that’s you,” he said with complete sincerity. “So, will you do it?”

  As if I could say no to him?

  “Of course,” I sighed. “Just let me know what you need.”

  “I knew I could count on you.”

  Walter sounded like he was smiling, but I didn’t know what he was so dang happy about.

  His faith in me was totally misplaced. I’d been this close to chickening out, still wasn’t sure I’d made the right decision.

  But the deed was done. Right or wrong, I was in this for the long haul. I just hoped it wasn’t the dumbest decision I’d ever made.

  When the call ended 20 minutes later, I had my first follow-up interview scheduled for Tuesday at 2:00 PM.

  With the Head Coach of the Wolves, Daisy O’Brien.

  AKA Archer’s mom.

  Not that that would be strange or anything. It wasn’t like I’d propositioned her son at a party then turned him down when he’d asked me out for a proper date. I mean, what kind of person does that?

  I sighed as I stood, walked to my door and opened it.

  The scene that greeted me was completely different than the one I’d left earlier. First, there were no O’Brien men around—for which I was grateful. Second, Charlie and Emmy were on the couch together watching the Hallmark Channel, not looking like they were seconds away from an impromptu catfight. Definitely a good thing. Rose was there as well, making herself a coffee, looking like she’d just woken up at two in the afternoon—which was actually early for her.

  “Shouldn’t you still be in bed?” I asked.

  Rose shrugged. “Couldn’t get back to sleep. Too much excitement going on out here.”

  “You can say that again.”

  “So Archer.” She smiled. “Charlie said he stopped by.”

  “Him and every other O’Brien on the planet,” Charlie piped up from the couch—to which Emmy rolled her eyes.

  “Hey,” she said, “it wasn’t that bad.”

  Charlie scoffed. “They were everywhere, Rose. Men in our sacred lady space. Can you imagine? I know you were half-asleep, but you must’ve noticed the difference.”

  Rose shot me a smile. “I thought I sensed a disturbance in the Force.”

  “A manly disturbance,” I said. “There were tan muscles and chiseled jaws as far as the eye could see.”

  “And tight butts,” Charlie added.

  Emmy scrunched her nose. “Ew, those are my brothers you’re talking about.”

  “Exactly,” Charlie said. “Our new roomie has a plethora of brothers, and apparently, none of them have girlfriends.”

  “Not for a lack of trying, I hear,” Rose put in as she and Charlie cut their eyes at me, but I ignored them and walked over to the couch.

  “Where did June go?” I asked and took a seat. “She seemed really nice.”

  “She is nice, probably too nice sometimes,” Emmy said, still staring at the TV. “June had to go home and help her dad at the garage. They own o
ne about 15 minutes from here. It’s a good place if you need any work done on your car.”

  “Hmm, I’ll keep that in mind,” I said.

  “So, what’s going on with you and my brother?”

  The question caught me off guard. “Nothing,” I said quickly.

  Emmy looked away from the TV and straight into my eyes.

  “It didn’t seem that way to me,” she said.

  “Me either,” Charlie agreed, and she smiled as I shot her a glare. “It seemed like a whole lot of something in my humble opinion.”

  “Humble?” Rose laughed. “Yeah, right. But really Honor, what’s up with you and this Archer guy? Did he ask you out? And did you seriously turn him down?”

  “Yes to both,” Charlie said.

  I didn’t know where to look, so I ducked my head with a shrug. “It wasn’t a big deal. He’s a baseball superstar whose final season in college is about to start. He’s probably forgotten all about me.”

  “Hmm, doubtful,” Emmy said. “Just so you know, Archer never acts like that.”

  “Like what?”

  “He doesn’t usually go after girls,” she said. “They pursue him.”

  I nodded, feeling a slight pang in my chest. “Got it. I’m just another girl he met at a party, nothing special. I suspected as much.”

  Emmy’s brows furrowed. “That’s not what I meant.”

  Rose shook her head at me sadly, and Charlie said, “Honor, I love you, but why are you being so dense? He’s totally into you. The guy looked like he’d got punched in the stomach after you turned him down and left.”

  “Hey, it’s cool,” I said. “Besides, it’s not like it could’ve gone anywhere anyway. This will actually make spending more time with him easier.”

  “Ooh, and the plot thickens,” Charlie said, her eyes bright as she and the other two girls leaned forward. “What do you mean more time?”

  “I got an assignment from Walter,” I said. “He wants me to do interviews with the team, follow them around, write an entire series.”

  “On my family?” Emmy asked.

  “Yeah,” I said, “which means—”

  “More time with Archer,” Rose said, fighting back a smile.

  “More time with the hot baseball player who’s into you and rocked your world at that party,” Charlie said. “It’s a sign.”

  I tilted my head. “Of what?”

  She shrugged. “Fun, sexy times ahead?”

  “Charlie, be serious.”

  “I don’t know, okay? But it has to mean something.”

  Yeah, I thought, it meant I needed to get all these feelings locked down, stop thinking like a girl with a crush. Getting to my feet, I shook my head and walked into the kitchen for some water, not realizing Emmy had followed me until she spoke.

  “Listen Honor,” she said, “I don’t know you, and you don’t know me. I have no idea what kind of person you are, why you said no or what your game is.”

  She held up a hand as I started to speak.

  “But Archer’s my brother. He may be older than me; he may be bigger and a guy, but I’ve never subscribed to any of that females-are-weaker B.S. My brothers can be annoying and way too over-protective, but they’re the best.” Emmy narrowed her eyes. “If you hurt Archer, you’ll have me to answer to. Understand?”

  “Yes,” I said after she was done. It was so refreshing to see a sister standing up for her big brother that I had to smile. “But you’ve got nothing to worry about. At least not from me. I like Archer.” Probably more than I should, I added mentally. “I don’t want to hurt him, Emmy. I don’t want anything from him.”

  She nodded as she searched my face. “I believe you…but I don’t think you know what you want.”

  Truer words had never been spoken, I thought.

  “Just know, you’d be lucky to have him,” she added before walking away.

  Actually, on second thought, those were the truest words ever spoken.

  Too bad I wasn’t brave—or stupid—enough to try my luck where Archer was concerned.

  Honor’s hands in my hair, her lips sliding against mine, the feel of her as she moved in my lap. I remembered it all like it was yesterday. And yeah, I couldn’t stop thinking about that either. How surprised she was to see me at her house, her smile from the other day—and the look of distress that crossed her face before she turned me down cold.

  “O’Brien, get your head in the game!”

  Bear’s shout pulled me right back to the practice field.

  Which was where my focus should’ve been in the first place.

  Heat raced up my neck as I looked around at my team. All eyes were on me, but I had no idea what had already been said. Had we been discussing defensive strategy? Offensive? The lineup? How important it was to not make stupid mistakes like the one Declan made on the other play by bobbling the ball on what should’ve been a perfectly easy grounder? I tried to keep my comment as vague as possible.

  “Guys, we can’t afford to make any errors,” I said, pulling my cap lower. “Like Coach says, perfection is impossible, but that’s what we’re shooting for. Our first game is next week. Let’s practice like champions.”

  Bear nodded to me, and my brothers all looked amused.

  “You heard your Captain,” he said. “Get back to work.”

  “Nice save,” Chase mumbled next to me as we all dispersed.

  “Thanks,” I said, handing him the ball and then walking behind the plate.

  Parker Graves was doing practice swings just outside the batter’s box. “Okay, so who is she?” he said.

  “Who’s who?” I asked.

  “The girl in your head.”

  As Honor’s face flashed across my mind, I cleared my throat. “Man, you have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  “Think I do,” he said, digging his cleats into the dirt, turning once in a circle like he did before every at bat. “Only one thing distracts a guy like that, and it’s a female. So, what’s her name?”

  I just shook my head and pulled down my mask before dropping into a squat.

  “Fine,” Graves said, assuming his stance. “Don’t tell me. Just know this: once you let a girl in, it’s hard to get ‘em out of your thoughts.”

  “Maybe you should concentrate more on your swing,” I said. “Probably get more hits that way.”

  “Just trying to be friendly, Captain,” he laughed. “The others aren’t going to take it so easy on you.”

  And he was right.

  Graves hit a pop fly to left field that was caught, no problem. Automatic out. Next up to bat was T.J. Perez, a sophomore who seemed to a have a love of women that rivaled even Baylor’s. Actually, the two liked to hang out a lot.

  “So, I hear you’ve got your eye on someone,” T.J. said as he stepped up to the plate.

  I frowned behind my mask. “And who’d you hear that from?”

  “From your loudmouth brother. Who do you think?”

  I cursed underneath my breath.

  “She pretty?” he said, throwing me a grin. “Baylor said she was. Rejection always hurts worse when they’re pretty.”

  “And you would know, wouldn’t you Perez?” I said and got down into position.

  “Hey, I’m on your side, Captain. Bros before hoes, am I right?”

  God bless Chase for striking out that fool.

  Hunter Bly came up next and just said, “T.J. told me. Sorry man, her loss.”

  He got on base with a single down the middle, but I couldn’t even be mad about it. Did everyone know Honor had turned me down?

  Chase struck out the next batter, and I went to the dugout, stripping out of my catcher’s gear as we changed up positions. It wasn’t like I hadn’t expected something to leak. I swear, these guys gossiped worse than any girls I’d ever met. But I hadn’t thought my whole team would be jawing at me the entire practice. I was fifth in the batting lineup, so I closed my eyes and leaned back against the bench. My mind usually blanked when I tried
to relax.

  But this time was different.

  She was right there, unbidden, floating just in front of me. I could picture Honor’s face, down to the little dimple on her left cheek. Her smile was like the sun, and it immediately warmed and set me at ease. Somehow, I had to figure out a way to spend more time with her. I could definitely start hanging around her house. Emmy was her roommate, my excuse if I ever needed one for why I was there so much. But I didn’t want to come off as desperate. Plus, her other roommate/best friend, Charlie, might have something to say about it.

  Still, it was the best plan I had.

  Maybe I could invite her to a game? I thought.

  “Hey,” Dex said, and my eyes flipped open. “Let’s go, Archer. You’re up.”

  “Thanks,” I said, taking the bat he held out to me, and slipped on my helmet. Quickly taking stock, I noticed we had a man on first and second with two outs. Time to get my head in the game.

  I was loosening up my shoulders when Mitch Snider had a go at me.

  “Word is you got rejected,” he laughed. “Can’t say I’m surprised. The ladies don’t seem to like you much, O’Brien.”

  As Captain, I got along with most of the guys on the team. But Mitch had always had a chip on his shoulder. He was a senior like me, and he thought my brothers and I got special treatment since we were the coach’s kids. He couldn’t see the truth, that he just wasn’t as great as his big head lead him to believe, and that was a problem for two reasons. 1) It made him an arrogant player without the talent to back it up, and 2) It made him say and do stupid things.

  “She probably wanted a real baller,” he added. “Not one that’s all hype.”

  “You’ll have to do better than that,” I said.

  “What?”

  “You heard me, Snider,” I said, warming up my arms, practicing my swing a couple times as I looked down at him. “The insults only hurt if they’re true, and I’ve got the stats to back up my game.”

  That shut him up—for about a second.

  I had just assumed my stance when he said, “I bet I could’ve bagged her.”

  I froze. “Excuse me?”

  “You heard me,” he said, throwing my words back at me. I looked down, and he was smirking. “Girl in the red dress, right?”