And she really did look cute in the drool pic.
I was in the locker room with my boys, getting ready for the game against Covington when the sound of a text came through. Turning my phone over, I saw it was from an unknown number, but the selfie I’d taken of me and Honor was right there.
Score, I thought.
I quickly saved the pic and added Honor to my saved contacts. I’d been bluffing before, hoping she either wouldn’t remember that she’d never given me her number or assume that I’d gotten it from Emmy. Either way, I had it now, a direct line to Honor—and she could contact me if she wanted or needed anything. That was a win in my book.
I shot her a quick thank you, and she answered right away.
Honor: No thanks needed. Now, please delete and destroy the drool pic!
I typed in my response.
Me: But you look so darn cute…
Honor: You’re incorrigible.
Me: I’ve been called worse.
Honor: Gah, so annoying. Just so you know, I don’t usually drool in my sleep. Also…sorry about your shirt :(.
Was she kidding? I was never getting rid of that shirt. In fact, it was my new favorite—possibly/probably because she’d had her lips pressed against it not thirty minutes ago. And though I’d made her contact picture the one with the two of us—it was too good not to. She must’ve blinked at the exact moment I took it because her eyes were closed, my lips pressed against her skin, a definite keeper—but I’d saved the drool pic as well.
Me: Don’t worry about it. Also, incorrigible? Nice vocab for a non-reporter/accountant ;)
Her reply was short and sweet.
Honor: Accounting = Stability. And don’t try to change the subject: DELETE the pic!!! Please.
The ‘please’ cracked me up. Holding back a laugh, I sent her my response.
Me: Okay done. It’s gone.
Honor: Hmm, thank you—you really deleted it, right?
She was too perceptive for her own good.
Me: I did.
Though I may or may not have plans to go back and recover it from my recently deleted photos. Hey, it was the only picture I had of just her…and what was the big deal anyway? So my dress shirt had a little wet patch on it. Her lips had been parted slightly in the sweetest way, and how she’d cuddled up next to me? Yeah, I didn’t want to forget or delete that memory.
Honor: Well, that’s a relief lol. I’d hate to think that was how you’d always see me. Drool pics really aren’t all that attractive ;)
Me: Trust me. It was sexy.
It took her a second to respond after that, but I waited to see what she’d say. After several starts and stops, this is what came through.
Honor: Okay well…I’ll let you go back to getting ready. Good luck, today, Archer! I hope you guys kill it out there!!!
Me: Oh, we will—and Honor?
Honor: Yeah?
I decided to ask the question that’d been bothering me since the bus.
Me: Who’s Jamie?
Honor: ???
Me: Jamie…you said his name a couple of times in your sleep. Was just curious.
I waited with bated breath. Her answer that came a minute later wasn’t long, but it told me a lot.
Honor: Oh him! I met him in a bookstore. He was so beautiful, just sitting there, waiting for me to notice him. It was all very romantic.
I was slower this time with my reply, unsure of what to say.
Me: Ah…well that’s…nice? I guess…
Honor was laughing at me. I knew it by the tone of her response as well as all the crying-laughing little emojis she included.
Honor: OMG!!! Archer, I’m just kidding! Jamie Fraser is a character from Diana Gabaldon’s Outlander books. He’s one of my many book boyfriends!
The breath that flew from my lips was pure relief.
Me: Oh, good one lol.
Honor: Really? You thought it was funny? There were a lot of ellipses in one text ;)
Me: Hilarious.
Honor: Ask Chase about Jamie if you don’t believe me.
Me: That’s okay.
Though I planned on doing just that after we got done with this conversation.
Me: So, book boyfriend, huh?
Honor: Yep.
Me: That mean he’s imaginary?
Honor: Yes, he’s fictional. But that doesn’t make my love for him any less real! <3
This girl was seriously something else, I thought, shaking my head.
Honor: Now, go catch some balls and good luck in the game!
Go catch some balls? Who said things like that? I put the phone aside—then looked up to see Baylor staring at me.
“Did you need something?” I asked.
“Nope,” he said. “Just haven’t seen you smile like that in a while.”
Was I smiling? Reaching up for a quick check, I found that yeah. I was. It was entirely thanks to Honor.
With a shrug, I said, “Didn’t realize. You ready for the game? Scouts will be at this one.”
Baylor stared for another second. “Yeah, I’m always ready.”
His tone was off, though, so I stood and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t worry,” I said quietly. “You’ve got nothing to be nervous about. Just show out like you usually do, and you’ll be great.”
“I know this,” Baylor scoffed. “Besides Chase is the one who gets nervous at these things, not me. You should go give him some of this pep talk.”
But I could sense he wanted to say more. “Something else bothering you?”
“I’m worried about you,” he said. “Not the scouts.”
That took me by surprise. “Me? Why?” I asked.
“I know you like Honor,” he said, “and it seems like she likes you. But just…be careful. Okay?” When I didn’t say anything, he added, “If she’s playing you, I don’t want to see you get hurt.”
“She wouldn’t do that,” I said.
“You never know.”
I tilted my head. “Listen, I know you’ve been burned in the past. That doesn’t mean it’s going to happen to me—or you again, for that matter.”
“Doesn’t mean it won’t either,” he said.
“You sound concerned? That’s not really like you.”
“No worries. I’ll be back to my carefree self in a second.” Baylor laughed then reached out to squeeze my shoulder. “I’m just saying…remember to guard your heart. You only get one.”
And with that, he left to join T.J., the two talking about how bad we were going to whoop up on this team and how they’d never want to have us back. I did my rounds, checked in with everyone, making sure they were in the right state of mind. We played with scouts in the stands all the time, but it never hurt to reassure the guys. They were here because we were champions. They came to scout us, not the other way around. The welfare of my team was paramount, and by the time we stepped out on the field, we were all rocking the winner’s mindset.
But Baylor’s words stuck with me.
Not because I was in any danger of getting my heart broken, though Baylor thought there was a good fifty-fifty chance. They stuck with me because instead of being fully focused on the game, like I always was, I was thinking about Honor watching in the stands, wondering if she was enjoying herself, waiting for the moment when we brought home this W, so I could speak to her again.
“So, his real name’s James Alexander Malcom Mackenzie Fraser?” I said. “That’s just crazy. Who has that many names?”
“I know,” Chase said. “But Jamie’s like the man. He’s an outlaw from Scotland, who’s loyal and brave, even though he’s gone through all this terrible stuff.”
“And he meets the love of his life because of some stones?” I asked, still not understanding.
“Yeah,” Chase said, eyes bright. “But she has to travel through the stones first. It’s time-travel and adventure and historical romance all rolled into one.”
I shook my head still not really getting it.
C
hase sighed. “Maybe you should just read the book.”
Before I could pump him for more info about this guy Honor had been dreaming about, our teammates joined us, fresh from the showers as we left the locker room. The talk switched immediately from books and went straight to baseball.
“Man, I was on today,” T.J. was saying. “Did you see my catch in the fourth to end the inning? It was a thing of beauty.”
“You want to talk beauty,” Mitch Snider said, “let’s talk about my double or that perfect slide into Homeplate. That was on point.”
“Yeah, and unnecessary,” Chase mumbled from beside me.
It was true. Mitch had only slid into home because he could, not because he had to, trying to make it look more dramatic, hoping to catch the eye of one of the scouts no doubt. But he’d obviously forgotten about the errors he made in the second and fifth innings and how he’d struck out a few times before hitting that double. Snider only focused on the stuff that made him look good—which was why he had such a high opinion of himself.
“Those scouts would be crazy not to offer me a spot after this.”
No one answered, but Snider didn’t need any encouragement.
“The girls in stands sure were eating it up,” he smirked.
“Yeah,” Baylor said, unable to help himself. “It was a nice hit. Maybe you’d get a few more if you weren’t so focused on hamming it up for the crowd.”
T.J. rolled his eyes as Snider glared. “This coming from the guy known for pointing to left field before he bats like he’s freaking Babe Ruth or something? You’re one to talk.”
“You do do that,” T.J. muttered.
“I know,” Baylor said with a shrug. “It’s one of my many loveable quirks.”
Parker Graves stepped in then. “Yeah, yeah, but can we talk about my man Chase here a second? If anyone’s getting scouted it’s this guy. That arm is fire.”
Chase opened his mouth to respond, but Snider spoke over him.
“Are you kidding? After that slide into home?” he laughed. “Sorry man, but I do believe I stole the show.”
Outwardly, I kept my face a mask, but mentally, I scoffed. If Snider thought his one measly hit was anything to my brother’s stellar pitching, he really was delusional. Chase had only allowed two runs to score and five hits total the whole game.
“Everyone played great,” I said. “Like Coach said, this win puts us in a good place going into to tomorrow’s game. Which means our opponents will want to win even more since we schooled them today. But we’re not gonna let that happen, right guys?”
They nodded.
“Rest up, eat well, and I’ll see you for game two in the morning.”
As my teammates dispersed, I saw Honor up in the stands. She was there with June—I’d noticed them during the pre-game warm-up and was glad Honor hadn’t had to sit alone. June always came to our games. Home or away, she loved baseball and was one of our most devout fans. Though there were other girls, too, who weren’t so in love with baseball who made it a point to be at nearly every game.
A group of them approached me before I could get to Honor.
“You’re the catcher, right? Archer O’Brien?” one girl said, stepping into my path.
Fixing the frown on my face, I nodded. Honor and June were only a few feet away. My goal was to make this as quick as possible. “That’s right.”
“Your knees must hurt after squatting so long like that.”
“Eh, you get used to it.”
“It’s really impressive.” She looked me up and down, not trying to disguise the way she was checking me out while she twirled a lock of her red hair. “Your thighs must be so strong, and you’d have to be flexible to hold that pose for so long.”
“I guess. If you’ll excuse me, there’s someone I—” But as I went to step around her, her friend put a hand on my chest.
“Oh Ashley,” she said, meeting my eyes, “don’t scare him off just yet. I wanted to speak to the captain, too.”
I sighed to myself, but it wasn’t as if this was new territory. The fans liked to talk to us after the games. It wasn’t usually a hardship, but man, I really wanted to talk to my girl.
“Sorry Marguerite, I was just being nice,” the redhead said.
“That’s okay,” Marguerite said then changed her focus back to me. “So, they say you and your brothers may play in the MLB someday. That true?”
I crossed my arms. “Not sure yet.”
“You looked pretty good out there today,” she said.
“Yeah, real good,” another one of their friends piped up, causing a bout of giggles.
I raised a brow. “Thanks.”
“Could you sign something for me?” she asked, holding up a marker she’d pulled from her purse.
“Sure,” I said. It wasn’t the first time a fan had asked for my autograph. “What did you want signed?”
“Just this hat”—I took the Wolves cap and pen and scribbled my signature quickly—”oh, and my shirt. Just here.”
When I looked down, she was pointing to the area between her collarbone and her chest.
“It may be worth something,” she said, staring at me as if it was a dare. “You know, if you get famous.”
Staring past her, I could see Honor and June watching the whole thing, close enough to hear every word that’d been spoken. June was shaking her head while Honor just sat there slack-jawed. From personal experience and some of the fan stories I’d heard from the guys, this wasn’t unusual, so I wasn’t surprised. Honor, though…she looked like someone had just socked her in the gut.
Turning back, frown still in place, I said, “Sorry, only one autograph per fan.”
Cheeks pink, Marguerite muttered her thanks, and she and her crew left soon after. I didn’t like being a jerk, but you had to draw the line somewhere. Plus, they were keeping me from seeing my girl. Speaking of which…
I was about to walk towards her—when another obstacle suddenly blocked my way.
The two men who stood in front of me were wearing red shirts, khaki pants and red baseball caps with the Phillies stamp on them. Even without the clipboards in their hands, I would’ve known they were scouts from a mile away.
“Hey Archer,” the first one said, holding out his hand for me to shake. “I’m Jeff Perkins, and this is my associate Barkley Soledad. We’re recruiters for the Phillies, and we just wanted to tell you good game, son.”
“Thank you,” I said after shaking both their hands. “I’m glad you enjoyed it.”
“We did,” Jeff said. The little bit of hair I could see beneath his cap was graying, but he was obviously the younger of the two men. Barkley was more wrinkled, shorter, and didn’t seem to have any hair at all. “Your team played like a well-oiled machine out there. Though I hear that’s the norm for you Wolves. Your wins and overall record proceeds you.”
I shrugged. No need to brag. He was right. Our record spoke for itself.
“Are you interested in playing professional ball?” Barkley asked.
“Yes, sir,” I said. “Though I think just about anyone on this team or any other would say the same.”
“Good to know.”
“I’m just going to get right to it.” Jeff nodded. “You’re a great player, and your catching skills are among the top in the nation, collegiate or professional. You’re a hot commodity, Archer. We need leaders like you on our team. I’ve already talked it out with your Coach. Daisy O’Brien’s not one to beat around the bush either. She told us you’d received other offers?”
“A few,” I said.
“I hear it’s more than a few,” Barkley put in.
“If you want a tryout,” Jeff went on, “we’d be more than happy to have you. Here’s my card, so you can contact us at your convenience.”
Taking the card, I looked it over. Nice cardstock, professional font, the same as all the other cards I’d gotten before. But I never took an offer for granted.
“Thank you, I appreciate you thinking
of me,” I said. “The Phillies are a great team. I’ll definitely consider it.”
“You do that,” Jeff said with a smile. “And maybe try to convince that brother of yours with the arm to give us a try, too, when he’s ready.”
“I’ll make sure he gets the message,” I said.
After a few more compliments about me and my brothers, the men walked away, and I was finally able to move toward where I’d wanted to be this whole time. June had disappeared, but Honor was still there waiting in the stands. When I stopped in front of her, she stared at me as if she’d never seen me before. I had no idea what that look meant. But I could tell something was going on inside that brain of hers.
I just hoped it was something good.
Thank goodness for the scouts.
They’d just given me my story about Archer.
I mean, sure he’d answered several of my interview questions on the bus, but unlike Chase, it wasn’t like I could use much of what he’d said—especially the parts referring to me. I’d been thinking I might have to interview him again, and my resistance was running low.
He did that to me.
But if I was looking for an angle, it had just played out in real time: the scouts, MLB plans, the girls. Archer O’Brien was in demand. He was a “hot commodity” like that one scout had said. The girls seemed to agree, one even asking for his autograph, though I thought it was obvious what she really wanted was a date. But who could blame her! And Archer had taken it all in stride as if this happened to him all time.
Maybe it did.
His future was bright. I wasn’t much of a baseball fan, and even I’d known he was amazing. Archer played the game like he was born to do it. He was going places. He was destined for great things.
And God help me, but I wanted him.
It was the first time I’d admitted it to myself.
I, Honor Tierney, wanted Archer O’Brien for however long I could have him.
There was something freeing and terrifying about acknowledging that fact. I was glad June had gone to the bathroom. At least there was one less person to witness my moment of clarity and the uncertainty that followed.
Even as he stood there, looking at me, I couldn’t find the words.
“Me and a few of the guys are going out for pizza later. You want to come?” he asked.
The Best Mistake Page 16
