Popping one eye open, I looked up at her. "Are you sure? That was pretty fast. Maybe you should do a longer examination, just to be completely thorough."
Charlie shook her head. "I got everything I need."
"Whatever you say."
I swung my body up into a sitting position. The first thing I noticed was that my shoulders and neck felt lighter, better than they had in months. As I bent my arm, testing how that felt, there was distinctly less stress. I couldn't believe the difference Charlie had made in only a few minutes.
"How do you feel?" she asked, and I realized she was still watching me.
"Good," I said in surprise. "Really good. Thanks, Charlie."
"No thanks needed," she said. "That's my job now, remember?"
"Well, I appreciate you agreeing to be my personal PT."
She shrugged. "Dr. Meismer definitely surprised me. We didn't talk about any of this beforehand, but the deal was too good to pass up."
I smiled, remembering the exchange between her and the professor. "You really sweet-talked him."
"No," Charlie said, "I just told him what I wanted. It's one of the principles I live by. If you want something in life, you have to ask for it. Otherwise, you probably won't get it."
"Wise words," I said. "Something tells me you get what you want a lot."
"Always," she said with a shrug as if it wasn't even in question. "Also…you should really put your shirt on. The room might be reserved, so we need to head out."
Heat filled my cheeks. Dang. I was blushing. It was something I'd done my whole life which was lame. But maybe not as lame as having a girl ask you to get dressed—twice.
Maybe I'd imagined the whole ogling incident.
As I stood and crossed the room to retrieve my shirt from the chair where I'd left it, I caught Charlie eyeing me. Or more specifically my back. I definitely flexed then—but cut it out as soon as I realized. What was I even doing? I wasn't Baylor. My twin would've milked this situation for all it was worth. Bay would've already flirted Charlie into a daze, gotten her number and set up a date for this weekend. The thought made me frown as I shucked on my shirt.
"There," I said, "all dressed."
I thought I heard her sigh and say, "Such a pity," under her breath, but I couldn't be sure.
As we got to the door, I stopped and turned to face her.
"Guess I'll see you at the game," I said.
"You will," Charlie said and ran a hand through her long blonde hair. "But just so you know, I despise baseball. Sports in general really. It's nothing personal. Anything where I have to be outdoors, getting hot and sweaty, besides tanning on the beach is not my idea of fun."
"Noted," I said. "But maybe baseball will grow on you."
She gave me a dubious look. "Yeah, not going to happen."
"You never know."
"Actually, I do," she said. "That's something you'll learn about me, Chase O'Brien. I'm very confident in my own thoughts and abilities. Speaking of, considering what I gathered from the exam and what you told me, I think it would be best if I work on you after the games. A massage will help loosen up your muscles, and I can take stock, see if there are any changes in your arm, that kind of thing. But I'll be there the whole time just in case."
I nodded. "Sounds good. Was there anything else?"
"No, I think that's all."
"Thanks again, Charlie," I said. "I enjoyed having your hands on me."
My God. Had I actually just said that?
The gleam in Charlie's eyes told me that yes. Yes, I had.
Knowing my face was on fire but unable to leave it there, I said, "What I meant to say is that your touch, it's really soothing."
There. That was better.
Charlie bit her lip, and I got the feeling she was trying hard not to laugh.
"Glad you enjoyed it," she said. "And please, don't be embarrassed. It's not like seeing you shirtless was a hardship, O'Brien."
With a nod, I walked away before I could do something stupid like blush again.
There was a fifty-fifty chance that I flexed as I left.
Charlie's words, though, definitely put a smile on my face.
#
By the time Thursday's game rolled around, I wasn't smiling anymore. This was supposed to be it. My big comeback. The stands were packed. My team was playing awesome, and I…well, I'd been doing fine at the beginning.
First inning: I was in the zone.
It had felt good to pitch, getting those first three strikes. The next three were cake. And by the time I knocked out my third batter, I felt on top of the world. Then my boys put some runs on the board early. We were off to a fantastic start.
Second inning: I pitched again. This time the strikes-outs were a little harder. I threw more balls than usual, but those could be put down to nerves. At least, that was what I tried to tell myself. The Wolves did great when it was our turn to bat. We got a couple more runs, increasing our lead.
The third inning was where it all went to hell.
Gonzaga's first batter managed to get a base hit. I shook it off, rolled the kinks out of my shoulder. It was just a single. Nothing to worry about. But then the second batter stepped up to the plate. I accepted the sign from Archer. When the ball left my fingers, I knew the pitch was bad. The ball went in the dirt, but luckily Archer stopped it. Taking a deep breath, I got ready to go again. This pitch was beautiful. Fastball, straight down the middle.
Okay, just a few more of those, and I'm golden.
Pre-injury I was pitching a hell of a lot more than I had today with near-perfect accuracy. I just had to stick it out. My whole body was tense as I wound up, and then…
The ball went wide, hitting the guy in the shoulder.
"Dammit," I muttered.
I could count on one hand the number of times I'd walked anyone let alone having hit a player with a wild pitch.
Jeez, what was wrong with me?
Archer looked concerned, and as he glanced to the dugout, I followed his gaze. Coach stood there, her face set in stone. She gave no sign to Archer. I, however, got a nod. Stay in, the gesture said. Alright, I thought, two on base, no outs. It was time to dig deep and recover my mojo.
Unfortunately, it didn't happen.
The next guy to bat was big, obviously one of Gonzaga's power hitters if size was anything to go by. I nodded when Archer gave the signal. The ball was supposed to be fast, but it seemed to move in slow motion.
Apparently, the batter thought so, too, because he hit it deep into center field. If it wasn't for TJ Perez's quick feet and a spectacular catch that could've been bad.
Something felt off. Maybe it was my arm, maybe something else. But I was struggling. Baseball and struggle weren't two words I usually put together, so I wasn't sure how to handle it. A few more base hits, and two runs scored, narrowing our lead. By some miracle, I managed to get one guy out—on a full count. Then Archer saved me, catching a pop fly behind home plate. Honestly, it felt like mercy to go to the dugout.
"Hey, nice job," Archer said. "Way to gut it out."
I frowned but nodded.
"Are you kidding?" Snider, who played outfield and was a senior like Archer, shook his head. "Chase was sucking majorly. That performance just dropped our lead to within striking distance."
"Guess that means you'll actually have to get a hit," Dex said.
"I wouldn't hold my breath," Baylor put in. "I don't think Snider's hit anything in a good long while."
"Hey, screw you," Snider said. "You know I'm right."
"What happened out there, Chase?" TJ said, coming over to sit next to me on the bench. "No disrespect or anything. But I thought your arm was better."
"Me, too," I mumbled. "Thanks for the assist. You must have springs in your feet, Perez. That catch was amazing."
TJ grinned. "I do what I can, when I can. You know I got you."
"You wouldn't have to save him if Chase w
as pitching like he used to," Snider griped, but I couldn't even be mad. He was one-hundred percent right.
"Watch it," Archer said quietly. "This is a team. No one player is to blame for a win or a loss. And we're still up by two if you hadn't checked."
He came closer and lowered his voice so only I could hear.
"How is your arm?" he said.
"A little tight, but fine," I replied.
"You want to keep going? Or should we bring in a relief pitcher?"
I gave a tense shrug. "That's up to you."
Another first. Archer didn't usually ask anyone anything when it came to game decisions—except maybe our mom. As Coach, she ultimately called the shots, but Archer was team captain. She trusted him and his judgment.
When it was time for us to take the field for the fourth inning, we were still up by two.
"So?" Archer said. "You staying in?"
"Not sure," I said. "I want to, but something feels off."
Baylor stopped next to me. "What's up?"
"Chase doesn't know if he should keep pitching."
My twin's eyes widened. "But…it's only been three innings. Chase, you never pitch less than four. Heck, you're usually good for all nine."
"Yeah," Archer said, still looking at me, "but it's his first game back."
"So what?" Baylor said then threw me a look. "You're pitching. End of discussion."
Archer's eyes narrowed as they swiveled to my twin. "I don't think we should push him."
"The doc said he's ready." Baylor threw up his hands. "Don't you get it, Arch? A push is exactly what he needs."
Coach (aka Mom) came over then.
"What's happening here?" she said, looking between the three of us.
"Baylor thinks Chase should stay in," Archer said. "I'm thinking he might need to sit this one out."
She nodded then looked to me. "And what do you say, Chase?"
"I'm…not sure," I said.
Her head tilted as her gaze bore into mine. "That's not like you. You're usually confident about everything, especially when it comes to ball."
"I know." I frowned. "It's just I thought my arm was ready. But now…"
Baylor scoffed. "If this is about what Snider said, ignore him. He's always been jealous of you."
"I have not," Snider said heatedly.
"Oh yeah, that's right. You're jealous of anyone with the last name 'O'Brien'. My bad."
"Baylor," Coach said sternly. The rebuke there was a mixture of head coach of the Wolves and pure motherly disapproval. My twin folded like a leaf.
"Sorry," he said to Snider, which made the other boy roll his eyes.
Mom studied me for another moment, then…
"Bay," she said, "you go in instead. Give Chase a break."
"But—"
She cut Baylor off with a look. "Let's go, Wolves. Time to play ball."
And that was the end of it.
Decision made.
I didn't know whether to be angry…or relieved.
"Jeez Chase. I know you had a bad inning," Baylor said as he pulled on his glove, "but don't you want the chance to redeem yourself?"
Hell yes, I did, I thought.
But I also wanted the team to win.
And on this day, I wasn't sure I could deliver.
"You pitch," I said. "I'll rest and be ready next time."
"Alright," he said, "though I still think it should be you."
Archer gave me a nod. "You played great, Chase, especially for your first game back. It'll be even better next time."
I desperately hoped he was right.
In the end, our team won, without much thanks to me. Charlie was there after the game like she'd promised. She asked me questions about my arm—how it was feeling, if there were any specific areas of discomfort etc.—and gave me a massage. In my mind, I knew it should've felt awesome.
But I was numb.
Inside and out.
Even Charlie's touch wasn't doing much for me.
And now, I'd have to go to the after-party Emmy had arranged to celebrate my return. A party—that I did not want to go to—for my non-existent comeback—which had started promising then turned into an epic fail.
If I wasn't so numb, I would've kicked something.
CHAPTER 10: Charlie
I'd never seen someone so sad to be at their own party.
"This sucks," Emmy said. "Chase is miserable."
I tilted my head, staring at the guy in question. He was sitting in a recliner across the room. I couldn't put my finger on it, but he did seem down, separate from the celebration going on around him.
"It can't be the party," she went on. "I tried my best, kept it lowkey, only invited a few people—though granted, my brothers added to the list. I know the game didn't go amazing, but it wasn't so bad. Maybe it's that book he's reading."
Honor took a sip of her water then said, "No, it can't be. Books make people happy. Well, the good ones do anyway."
My lips twitched at her answer. It was just so…Honor.
Seeing Emmy's frown, my best friend nudged me and lifted her brows. As if I knew what to say to make this better?
Rolling my eyes, I said, "Maybe you're imagining things. He looks okay to me."
"Hey." June joined the group, handing each of us a water, and gestured across the room. "What's up with Chase? He looks like such a sad sack."
Emmy groaned at that, and June's eyes widened.
"What did I say?" she asked.
"Nothing," I said as I watched yet another girl try to engage Chase in conversation. "On second thought, maybe he's just tired of all the girls. I don't think they've given him a break since we got here."
"Yeah"—June grimaced—"that's because they all want to comfort him. I heard a few of them in the bathroom. They were talking about who they thought had the best chance to hook up with him."
Emmy laughed. "Like that would ever happen."
"I don't know," I said. "Several of them seem cool. Plus, they have uncommonly good makeup and fashion sense."
"It'll take a lot more than that to win over my brother." She shot me a look. "Speaking of which, how's that going? Has he kissed you yet?"
"No." I grinned. "But he did strip down for me the other day."
June and Honor choked on their water, but Emmy gave an unimpressed sniff.
"I'm not worried about your therapy sessions," she said. "Even if you're in close proximity, I'm still going to win. Chase is never going to go there."
"Never say never."
"Honestly, you shouldn't be wasting time," Emmy said with a shrug. "By my calculations, you have less than six days to go…and yes, I'm counting down the minutes until I win the bet. A massage a day sounds very nice."
"You're right." I straightened, pulling my shoulders back. "I should go over there and save him from all that female attention."
Honor grinned. "Charlie to the rescue, huh?"
"Exactly."
"Well, this should be interesting."
"Thanks, I'll try to give you a good show." I threw Emmy a grin. "Watch and learn, O'Brien. This is how you win a bet."
Emmy shooed me along with an annoying smile on her face. It immediately made me suspicious, especially when she said, "Best wishes."
"Warmest regards," I replied.
Our latest watch party had included several episodes of Schitt's Creek. It was one of my favorite shows. I'd long ago decided that David was my spirit animal. It kind of irked me that Emmy had used one of my favorite catchphrases—and that she seemed so sure of my failure.
It made zero sense.
I mean, since moving in, Emmy had watched me win over more than a few guys. Shouldn't she be at least a little worried?
Shaking it off, I strode across the room, heading directly for Chase. I stopped in front of him a moment later. But he kept his head down.
"Having a good time?" I asked.
"I
guess," he said.
"You seem to have a lot of admirers."
A grunt.
"Chase, this is unacceptable. I've been standing here nearly a minute, and you still haven't said anything about my outfit."
"Didn't know I was supposed to."
Ooh, so he wanted to pull out the sarcasm? Two could play that game.
Chase's eyes were still glued to that stupid book, and it was giving me déjà vu. Here I was, trying to talk with him, looking like a million bucks as usual, and there was Chase, ignoring the world and everyone in it. The only thing missing was the quiet library. We were currently at Omega Beta surrounded by people, but he wasn't engaging. Time to wake him up.
"I think that last girl wanted to sleep with you," I said.
The blush was super satisfying, but so was the look of shock on his face as his eyes met mine.
"Jeez, Charlie," he said. "Why would you say something like that?"
"Because it's true." I shrugged. "She even tried to sit in your lap. Not that you noticed."
Chase blinked. "She did?"
"Yes," I said, "Almost fell off the arm of that chair, too. She was perched there when you went to turn the page of that book you're so into. Luckily, she stood up in time."
He looked stunned, but I was ready to change the subject.
"So, now that I have your attention, what do you think?" I gestured to my cute blue dress. The sleeveless number was fitted but flowy at the same time. Perfect for this 'low-key' party. "It's new. I got it because the color matched my eyes."
"The dress is nice." Chase shook his head. "But I think you'd look good in anything."
Goodness, I thought. Lord save me from nice guys with no filter. Blatant honesty could slay a girl quicker than any false flattery.
"You're dangerous," I said. "And I don't mean on the baseball field."
It was like a switch was flipped.
One moment we were talking, and Chase was starting to relax. The next, he was back to Mr. Doom and Gloom.
"If that's your way of telling me I sucked, believe me, I know," he said.
I nodded. "Ah, so you're over here sulking."
"I'm not—"
"No, I get it," I said. "You didn't go out there and get a bunch of goals, and now you're brooding."
The Perfect Play (Southern U O'Brien Brothers) Page 8