The first pitch blazed past me without my even seeing it.
“Strike one!” called Bear, but I was hardly listening.
Mitch threw the ball back then said, “I saw her at the party. Girls like that are so easy.”
“What?” I said softly.
The ball whizzed past again. I didn’t swing, heard the muffled “strike two” being called, but I was too blinded by his next words to care.
“I bet I could’ve had her on her back in 10 seconds flat.”
One moment, I was standing there frozen. The next I was up in his face.
“Asshole,” I said, pushing him back, hard. “What did you just say?” Another push. “You stay away from her.”
Bear blew his whistle and tried to get between the two of us.
“Break it up,” he said, pushing Mitch back as Dex pulled me from behind. “What the hell was that all about?”
Mitch shook his head. “I was just joking, and he came at me out of the blue.”
“Out of the blue, huh?” Bear turned his scowl on me next, his voice a mix of anger and frustration. “You’re supposed to be the captain of this team, Archer. You know you can’t go around pushing your teammates. What’s gotten into you?”
Glaring at Mitch, I said, “I don’t know, but you’re right. It won’t happen again.”
Bear grunted then walked away, shaking his head, and I noticed Coach/my mom standing there on the sidelines watching the whole thing. She hadn’t come over. She hardly ever intervened in scuffles like this, tried not to get in the middle of fights when it was one of us and another player to avoid talk of favoritism. I could see her disappointment from across the field. But I couldn’t regret it.
What Mitch said had been out of line, and captain or not, I just couldn’t let it stand.
“You okay?” Dex said. “Don’t let Snider get to you. You know he’s an ass.”
“Yeah, easier said than done,” I muttered.
“This girl, Honor,” he said. “You really like her, don’t you?”
I just gave him frown in answer, but apparently it was enough.
Dex nodded. “That’s what I thought.”
Before I could respond, Snider came up next to me.
“Sorry man,” he said, placing a hand on my shoulder. “It was just a joke.”
I shrugged his hand off. “It’s cool. Let’s just play ball.”
“And you know I lied.” He smiled again. “Girl like that? She would’ve been begging for it in five seconds, not ten. Virgins never stand a chance with me.”
My vision went red, but before I could do anything—possibly kill the SOB—Dex had already delivered a solid left hook to the guy’s jaw, knocking him out cold.
I looked to him, and he just shrugged.
“Hey, it’s not like I’m Captain,” Dex said, the scar on his face pulling up as he grinned. “And come on, the douche was just asking for a punch to the face.”
“That he was,” I said, giving him a pat on the back.
Bear’s whistle shrilled through the air, his bellow following soon after. “Laps!” he shouted. “Ten of them around the field. If you can’t play like a team, you’ll run like one. And if I need to add more to get you hotheads to cool down, I will!”
The running was great conditioning, and we were all in good shape. That’s a lie. We were all in the best shape of our lives. But the heat made it a challenge. By the time we were done, everyone was panting—this included Mitch who had recovered in time to run, his eye now swollen, the color purple like the inside of a grapefruit—and my mother was waiting for us on the pitcher’s mound. We gathered around her, taking a knee like we always did when she gave one of her speeches, which she usually waited to do until the end of practice. There’d been a lot going on today, though, so I didn’t think much of it.
“Guys,” she said, looking around at each of us, her blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail, catching in the breeze, “I’m not going to lie. You’re looking pretty good out there.”
Some of the newbies puffed up at that. But I’d heard one too many of Coach’s talks, so I knew where this was headed.
“But pretty good unfortunately isn’t good enough.”
They deflated just as quickly.
“Now, I’m not saying this to discourage you,” she said, walking around in a small circle, making sure everyone was listening. “You are Southern. You represent one of the winningest teams in collegiate baseball history. There’s been blood, sweat and tears spilled on this field, and the results are indisputable. Three consecutive championships. All of them belonging to the Wolves. You should be dang proud of that.”
Finally, her eyes landed on me.
“And you’ve done all that as a team. But I am not seeing a team playing out here today, and that’s a crying shame.”
Her words hit me right in the solar plexus. Man, that hurt.
“These past seasons you’ve won together. You’ve lost together. And now, I need you to buck up and start acting like a team together. Am I understood?”
Everyone nodded.
“I know about last practice,” she went on, and out of the corner of my eye I saw Baylor wince. “A lot of you like to party, stay out late and have fun with your friends. It’s college after all, right? That’s what you’re supposed to be doing. Having fun.”
Her hands went to her hips.
“But you’re not just here for that. Are you gentlemen?” She didn’t wait for an answer. “No sir, you signed up to come here and play ball for the Wolves. This is where you get to use your God-given talent to show everyone what you’re capable of. This is where you get to be Sandy Koufax on the mound, Willie Mays in the outfield, Babe Ruth at bat, and Johnny Bench behind the plate. This baseball diamond is my church, guys, so you better treat it with respect. You treat yourself and your bodies with respect, too, you hear? And we will win.”
All was silent as Mom nodded, the sureness in her voice filling everyone in that circle with confidence. This was why she was such a good coach, I thought. Break us down, only to build us back up, better and stronger than before. We all had talent as individuals. She was why we were such a great team.
“This is our season, gentlemen. Everyone is gunning for us. Everyone wants to take the Wolves out of contention. But we work hard now. We focus. We practice harder than everybody else, so that no one can defeat us on the field. And if they do, they’re going to have to work like hell for it. We go out there knowing this is ours.” She nodded to herself. “That’s how we’re going to bring another championship home to Southern.”
Coach looked around at the group again, and though no one else probably saw it, I noticed how her eyes lingered on her sons. There was so much pride there. It made me ashamed of how I’d acted earlier in practice. Made me want to do better.
“Now,” she said, clapping her hands, “I’ve got a meeting to get to, but I know you’ll do me proud. Get some water, guys, and then get back out there. Let’s practice like champions.”
Cheers went up, and when we went to our bags, Chase and Dex came over to me.
“What’s up with that?” Dex said.
“Don’t know,” Chase said, “but I’m definitely curious.”
“What do you mean?” I asked, squirting some water into my mouth and over my head. Shoot, it was hot out here.
“Arch,” Chase said, “when’s the last time you remember mom missing two practices in a row?”
I thought back but couldn’t think of one.
“Never,” Dex cut in. “She’s always here, especially this close to the season. Something’s got to be up.”
“Last week, she had a dentist appointment,” I said.
Chase nodded. “Nothing suspicious about that.”
“But this meeting? Who do you think it’s with?”
Nobody had an answer for that.
“I know who Mom’s meeting with,” Baylor said, tossing his water bottle from one hand to the other, looking like the freaking cat that ca
ught the canary. “Got it out of Bear. Took some prodding, but in the end, he told me everything.”
Dex gestured to him to go on. “Well?” he said. “You going to tell us who it is or what?”
“Hmm,” Baylor said, pretending to think about it, “I’m not sure if I should. Arch is already distracted enough as it is.”
“Me?” I started. “What’s this got to do with me?”
“Nothing,” Baylor said. “Just a piece of info you might be interested in. Snider had it coming by the way. He’s got a big mouth, talks way too much trash, which I think says a lot coming from me.”
Chase rolled his eyes. “Just tell us, Bay.”
“Yeah,” Dex said, “cut the crap, and get on with it already.”
“Okay, okay,” he said, “but only since you asked so nicely.”
We waited.
“Mom is meeting…with a reporter at 2:00 pm,” Baylor said. I didn’t understand the grin on his face—Mom met with a lot of reporters—until he added, “She’s actually been to the field once before, works for the school paper.”
My heart pounded in my chest.
“Bear wasn’t a big fan of how much of our captain’s time she took up,” he added.
“No way,” Chase said. “You mean—”
“Mom’s got an interview with Honor”—Baylor checked the time on his phone—”in about 10 minutes. Too bad practice lasts another forty. It’s kind of cool if you think about it, Arch,” he said. “Your almost-girlfriend is about to meet our mother for the first time.”
I shook my head. “She’s not my girlfriend.”
“But you’d like her to be,” Dex said.
Couldn’t argue with that.
“Like Bay said, your concentration was shot before this. Think you can snap out of it?”
Chase crossed his arms. “Bear isn’t going to take any more crap. He’s already breathing down your throat.”
“Hey, no worries,” Baylor said. “She’s just a distraction. Right, Arch?”
“I’ll be fine,” I said, my focus more concentrated than it had been all day.
First, I’d get through practice. Then after rushing through a shower, I’d be on my way to Mom’s office, hopefully, to catch the end of that interview. I was quick, one of the fastest on the team. I could make it.
Knowing Honor was about to meet my mom probably should’ve made me nervous, but it didn’t. Getting to see her again. That’s what drove me through the rest of practice.
Baylor was right. Honor was a distraction.
But she was also my motivation.
I couldn’t wait to be with her again. And as it turned out, my mind loved being distracted by her.
I was out of breath.
And nearly late for my meeting.
Ugh, and I’d wanted to make such a good impression.
Taking a moment—but only one—to breathe, I knocked twice on a closed door with the words Head Coach Daisy O’Brien sprawled across it. The answer was immediate. A strong female voice from the other side said, “Come in.”
With one last breath, I opened the door and stepped inside.
The woman’s head had been down as she worked on a few papers, but her eyes met mine as I entered.
“Hi,” she said, smiling, “you must be Honor.”
“Yes.” I noticed her lips and high cheekbones looked just like Archer’s. Unfortunately, this did nothing to calm my racing heart. “Nice to meet you, Mrs. O’Brien. I’m sorry I was almost late. My British Lit class usually ends at 1:45, but it ran over today.”
She gestured to the seat in front of her, which I gladly took. “So you came all the way from the Browning Building? That’s clear across campus.”
I nodded.
“Nice cardio,” she said. “Do you run a lot?”
“Not unless you count running to the bookstore when a new release from one of my favorite authors comes out,” I said.
She laughed, thank goodness. “I’m the same way, and so is my older sister, Genevieve. When a new Patterson book releases, I’m one of the first in line.”
Okay, this I was more comfortable with. I could talk books all day, every day. “I’m more of a romance person myself.”
“Nothing like a good romance,” she said.
“I like happy endings.”
“Who doesn’t? There’s so much sadness in the world.”
“Exactly. Real life has too many tragedies. Happily-ever-after is something to strive for not scoff at. Being happy is one of the bravest things you can be.”
“Amen to that,” she said.
I flushed, knowing I’d gotten carried away—book talk tended to do that to me—but I liked her already. I just hoped the feeling was mutual.
“I hear you have some questions for me.”
“Yes, of course,” I said, giving myself a mental slap. Come on, Honor. Be professional. Just because you’ve got a woman crush on the guy-you-like’s mom is no reason to drop the ball. “It’s just a few interview questions. My boss asked me to profile you and your sons.”
“Well, that should be interesting,” she murmured, more to herself than me. “Bear said you came to one of the practices. What did you think?”
“I was very impressed,” I said, looking around at her walls. She had tons of pictures, most featuring either her family, baseball or both. “You have a talented team, Mrs. O’Brien.”
“Hmm. And have you met my boys?”
Archer’s eyes, the intense focus in them as he leaned forward just before pressing his lips to mine, the feeling of his hands as they brushed the sides of my hips.
I cleared my throat as heat rose to my cheeks. “Yeah, I mean, yes. I met them. Just briefly though, we don’t know each other well or anything.”
Her brows rose at my reaction. “No?”
I shook my head, tried to change the subject. Grabbing my notebook, with my pen in hand, I asked, “So, have you always known you wanted to be a coach?”
“Pretty much,” she said. “There’s magic in this game, a romance about it that no other sport can touch. Before I met my husband, baseball was my first love. Luckily, the kids love it, too.”
“Was that because of you or your husband?”
“Both, I’d imagine. Tyler and I met at a baseball game.”
I smiled. “Oh really? Was it love at first sight?”
“More like hate.” She laughed. “We were rooting for opposite teams. I love my Mets, but he was a Yankees fan. Can you believe that? There are actual people who like the Yankees.”
I smiled, taking notes, as she faked a shiver of disgust.
“Anyway, we met through friends, and he and I had it out, arguing most of the night about which team was better, who would win the game. The loser had to buy the other drinks at the end.”
“And who ended up buying?” I asked.
“He did, of course. My Mets took that game in awesome fashion. It was a beautiful sight. Tyler, though, didn’t seem half as sad as he should’ve been to see his team lose. He was downright happy about it.” She sighed. “He told me later that his Yanks did him a solid that night. That he wanted to take me out to dinner instead of drinks, and by the end of that dinner… Oh Honor, I was a lost cause. A year later, he asked me to be his wife—at a Mets-Yankees game—and then we got married, had a wonderful family. It was such a good life with him.”
I was taking notes furiously at this point, trying to get it all down. Theirs was such a beautiful story. It sounded like a real-life fairytale, and I couldn’t believe I was getting to hear it all like this.
“Did you guys ever switch teams?” I asked.
“No way,” she said. “Tyler, well, he always told people the damn Yankees were the ones who brought us together. He laughed long and loud at the face I made whenever he said it, too. Correcting him was futile, but I didn’t think it was the Yanks or my Mets. Like I said, it was baseball, that indefinable magic of the game, that first made us dislike each other and then fall in love.”
/> “Well, I’m honored that you told me your story,” I said. “It sounds like one for the record books.”
“Have you ever been in love, Honor?”
The question was so unexpected it took me a second to respond. Looking up, I met her steady gaze.
“I don’t think so,” I said.
“Why not?” she asked. “You seem like a smart, sweet girl, and you said yourself you love romance.”
“In books,” I said. “In real life, not so much.”
She tilted her head, so I went on.
“To be honest, it’s always seemed like such a huge risk, putting all of your trust and heart into the care of one person? Trusting them not to leave, to love you back? Being constantly afraid of losing them? Love is scary.”
Mrs. O’Brien smiled sadly. “Love is the most terrifying thing in the world, but trust me, it’s worth it.”
I blinked, taking that in. I couldn’t explain all my doubts to someone I’d just met, could barely explain them to myself. But here I was talking to a woman who had lost her husband to cancer about love and loss, and here she was telling me it was worth it. If that wasn’t a ringing endorsement of love, I didn’t know what was.
“I know it’s your interview,” she said, “but could I ask you a few questions?”
“Sure,” I said, thinking/hoping/praying, please let them be easier than the first one.
“Are you a baseball fan?”
So much for easy.
“Will you throw me out if I say no?” I asked.
Mrs. O’Brien laughed while shaking her head. “I guess I’ll let you stay. Though maybe you’re a bit more of a fan then you’re letting on. You are doing these profiles.”
“Until recently, I didn’t even know what a line drive was,” I confessed.
“Hm, and I wonder who taught you that term…”
Archer had, I thought, fighting down another flush at her shrewd look.
“One of your sons actually,” I said. “They’re all amazing from what I can tell. Do you think any of them will go pro one day?”
She sat back in her chair, drumming her fingernails against the desk. “I think any of them could play professionally—if they really wanted to. But I’d never force that on them. They’d have to want it for themselves.”
The Best Mistake Page 8
