Page 13 of Chasing Headlines
“Rally?” She made a face. “You buy it for your niece or something?” She held it up, but my eyes couldn't focus on anything but her.
“Bought a shirt for my dad.” I shook my head. “They threw this one in.”
“Well, I hope you didn't have your heart set on being the first to wear it.”
I couldn’t help but grin. “I'll live.”
She hugged the fabric to her chest. “Well. I, uh, I'll give it a good home, then. Unless you want it back?”
Yeah, I wanted it with a burn mark where it spent time covering my lampshade. Or even better—hanging off her shoulders while she straddled my lap. Yeah, I was probably grinning like an idiot. “Nah. Takes a special level of enthusiasm to pull it off. All yours.” I should turn away. Leave. Get going before I missed my chance to talk to Coach. My feet stuck to the floor.
“You think I'm enthusiastic?” She tilted her head.
I blinked. “Yeah? Uh, sure.”
“Shouldn't a student athlete be just as enthusiastic? To be here, I mean? In fact, when my brother was here, he gushed about this place all the time. He was a stone-faced wall on the mound, but, off the field, get him drunk enough and he would've dressed up like Rally and put on a show.”
That's never been me. “Won't be here long. Shouldn't be here, now.”
She paused mid-stride and cast a glance over her shoulder. It started near the floor then traveled up to my jaw. My wraparound Oakleys covered half my face.
Still, her razor-sharp glare cut through the mirrored lenses and stared into me. That little half smile perched on her lips, with the blonde ponytail and long legs—she would have been a special level of kryptonite even if I hadn't been without for . . . Geez, since we snuck out of baseball camp two years ago, and?—
Guilt twisted my stomach into something queasy. Like a knife to my abdomen, it sliced away anything pleasant about that memory. I'd had no idea Mom was back in the hospital.Some fucking asshole son I was. I hadn't been there when she needed me.
“I'm glad you were here.”
The words sounded strange. Something about the way she said it. Or the way I heard it? I was supposed to be number one, on a track. Everything I did furthered my goal: IML baseball.
But that guy wasn't who helped her out.
Rally Girl's eyes slid from my face. She clutched the gifted shirt to her collarbone and disappeared into the women's restroom.
“That's my one regret, my dearest son.”
No. Don't think. Focus. One foot forward, then the other.
“I won't see you grow intothe manI see in you. The one I know you can become.”
Chapter Four
Olivia POV
Strikers Baseball Administrative Office
Ipaced back and forth as I waited in the bare boring space someone called an administrative office. A tall sour-faced guy wearing a polo with a name tag that read “Ted” had left me for over fifteen minutes to “get approvals.” Whatever that meant. Who else would be here two weeks before school started except a legitimate school reporter?
Just in case, I called my backup plan: Curt.
“You could've told me I was attending school on the surface of the sun.” I grumbled through the phone.
He chuckled. “Settling in, then?”
“This place.” I placed one foot in the center of the maroon tile and leapt to the next red one two squares away. “I'm pretty sure the only reason this isn't considered a one horse town is 'cause they borrowed someone else's horse.” I huffed at a piece of hair that had come loose.
My new Rally baseball jersey was a bit tight, but, holy hell, the guy who gave it to me was hot. I'd been glancing through profiles, again, of the freshman class and best I could figure he was an upperclassman. Had to be. Or maybe he was a footballer?Both types of football started freshman camp this week, too. But those sunglasses were International Championship Series Oakleys. My brother and several of the scouts wore the exact same ones.
“Yeah? Fine, I'll be there in a minute.” A tapping sound followed by shuffling. “What? No, it's Liv. Eh, hold on a sec.”