Bobby raises his eyebrows at me, but no else seems to notice.
"Well, come here and give me a hug too, Carrie." Mom laughs, embracing her.
"We've enjoyed watching you on TV." My dad strolls through the screen door leading to the backyard, joining the conversation. "It feels like we already know you."
"You get the Kings' network in California?" Carrie asks, her voice pitching higher than I've ever heard it before.
Awww, Care Bear's nervous.
"Are you kidding? They have K-TV on their satellite TV package," Bobby groans. "I see more of my brother now than I ever did."
I point my finger at him. "C'mon, bro. Wheel your butt into the backyard and help me grill those steaks I see over there on the counter. I'm friggin' starving."
"See? He just walked through the door and he's already bossing me around." Bobby looks to Carrie for sympathy as she walks beside him.
"Ah, quit griping. You know you missed me." I jut my chin at him, grabbing the serving plate of raw meat, ready to take it out to the backyard.
Until Carrie calls out, "Wait a minute. Is that you?" while looking at a picture on the wall.
"Yep. That's my Scotty," Mom replies, coming up behind her. "Doesn't he look distinguished in his uniform?"
"Not as good as I do," Bobby boasts.
"I'll give you that one, Bobby," I laugh, nodding. "But I'll take pinstripes over camouflage any day."
"See? I knew I was right," Carrie declares.
"About what?" I question her, a little afraid of what she might say about me in front of my family.
"You'd look hot"—she smiles at me—"even with a buzzed head."
"Wow. Is my brother blushing?" Bobby cracks up.
"I am not." I duck my head, fighting the heat that's climbing up my cheeks.
"I like you, Carrie McKenzie." Bobby gives her an appraising glance. "Any chance you might have a younger sister back in New York you can hook me up with?"
"Actually, she does," I snicker when Bobby's eyes dart to mine.
"But Alex is just about to graduate from college and she's crazy busy," Carrie says while his head is turned, giving me a look to shut up.
"If she's anything like you," Bobby groans, turning back to Carrie, "I can wait."
"Honestly, I thought I could handle one Harper. I don't know about two," Carrie chuckles.
"Are you saying we're too much for you?" Bobby teases her.
"I never admit defeat," Carrie replies, staring us both down.
"That's the spirit," Mom says, patting her on the back.
"And boy, Mrs. Harper, do I have a bone to pick with your son. Scott, for heaven's sake, why haven't you signed your brother up to participate in the Kings' military tribute program yet?" Carrie asks, turning to look at Bobby.
I see Bobby's face turn white, but Carrie doesn't know him like I do. I wave at her to stop, running my hand across my neck, but she doesn't notice my gesture.
"Do you mean where they trot out service members during the seventh inning stretch?" Bobby asks, a deadly calm settling over his features.
"Exactly!" Carrie enthuses. "With Memorial Day right around the corner, I'd love to do a piece about you for the network and, of course, have you and your parents come out to a game. Bob, after all that you've been through, if anyone deserves to be honored, it's you."
He holds up his hands. "Thanks, but no, thanks."
"Bobby, she doesn't know about what happened. All right?" I snap at him, my nerves raw. "She's just trying to be nice."
"Yeah, by having everyone feel sorry for your little brother, the cripple? I don't think so. Never again!" He angrily wheels his chair around, nearly tipping over in the process.
My dad reaches out just in time to steady Bobby's wheelchair, but my heart remains lodged in my throat from seeing him react this way in front of Carrie.
"That's not what I meant," Carrie beseeches, no doubt thrown for a loop by the dramatic shift in his mood.
"Of course not, Carrie. He knows that," Mom replies in a soothing voice.
"Sorry, but you're not gonna parade me out like I'm some patriotic sympathy case," Bobby spits out, his jaw tight, shoving himself toward the hallway. "Been there, done that. Or haven't you heard about the soldier who lost his shit in the Kings' dugout?"
"Listen, Bob, I'm sorry I mentioned it. Forget I even said anything, okay? Let's just enjoy our lunch together."
Shit. I can see it in Carrie's eyes. She knows about the guy who wigged out at the stadium last year. Yep, she's heard about it. I was naïve to think she hadn't. But it appears that, up until now, she had no clue that it was my brother—something I'd hoped she'd never find out, a connection I'd prayed she'd never make.
Not many people know that it was him. Bobby was never around for any of the World Series celebrations. He was always deployed. Harper is a common name, and I'm always the player who escorts the service member onto the field, so no one thought anything of it, and I didn't broadcast it ahead of time. My only intent was to do something good for my brother and have his bravery recognized. I didn't want to steal any of his glory or draw attention to the fact that I was his brother. When he had a panic attack next to me in the dugout, I didn't know what to do. My dad acted quickly, getting him out of there and back down to the clubhouse, but not before he appeared for a split second on the Jumbotron, his arms flailing, his head rolled back. The agony it caused him made me feel like such a jerk for having suggested it to him, and to have Carrie bring it up now is like ripping open an old wound that never fully healed for any of us.
Bobby wastes no time before laying into her, his anger a last means of defense to protect his injured pride. "Carrie, I know your family owns the Kings and all, but I don't feel like being used to make your job any easier," he responds haughtily.
Carrie staggers back under the weight of such a blow.
"Bobby, that's enough!" I scold him, glaring at him from across the room. "You're way out of line, bro. Way outta line."
It's my fault, not hers, that this happened. I should've told her sooner. I just didn't have the guts to bring it up, avoiding the subject at all costs.
Dad, sensing the tension brewing between his two sons, cuts in, keeping his voice steady and calm. "How would you like your steak, Bob?"
"I think I suddenly lost my appetite," Bobby replies, his hostile gaze locked on Carrie. "If you'll excuse me."
"Bobby, don't be like this, man. C'mon," I call out to him, my shoulders sagging in defeat.
"I'll be in my room," he says stiffly, wheeling himself away, once again preferring isolation over the comfort of his family.
"Let him go, Scott," Mom urges. "He hasn't been doing too well lately. Any little thing sets him off."
"I wish I'd never opened my big, fat mouth," Carrie moans, clutching her forehead. "I wasn't thinking. When I get nervous, I just start rambling and I don't even know why I brought up the military tribute program. I didn't know what else to say. I'm so sorry. I didn't—"
"It wasn't you, Carrie," Mom reassures her before casting a quick glance at me. "He was looking forward to your visit so much. It's the most excited he's been in quite some time. It's just that drawing any unnecessary attention to his injury triggers something in him, and that night at Kings Stadium was a definite low point for him. It was a painful lesson for all of us, I think."
"Has he been going to his counseling sessions?" I ask, concerned.
"He has, but what seems to help more is when he's able to Skype with his buddies who are still in the field," Dad answers me. "He's been with a lot of those guys since they were kids, and he's like a fish out of water trying to navigate through life without them. He always thought he'd be a career military man, just like me. He never imagined his life without the service."
"So having to give it up at such a young age has been really hard for him," Mom continues. "He doesn't like any reminders telling him that it's over and he's not going back to it."
"Sort of like a baseball play
er when he retires," Carrie mutters softly. "That whole adjustment period of realizing you're never going to play again."
"Yeah, but baseball's just a game," I argue. "This is his whole life."
"Let me get started on these steaks," Dad says, taking the plate out of my hands, showing how uncomfortable he is talking about this.
"Carrie, will you help me bring out the salad and these ears of corn?" Mom asks, taking Dad's lead and trying not to let my brother's problems dominate the whole afternoon.
I never get to see my family, and it sucks that Bobby has to pick today to have one of his moments, and he took it out on Carrie to boot. That's why I never come home anymore, because I never know what Bobby I'm going to find when I get here. I miss my brother, the one I used to know. The guy I could talk to about anything before some motherfuckin' member of the Taliban blew his legs off.
I force a grin onto my face, determined to salvage what's left of the day. "As long as you don't put Carrie anywhere near the stove, Mom."
"Hey! Watch it," Carrie warns, giving me a small smile. She knows that, ever since our evening at Pedro and Clara's, I take every opportunity I can to tease her about nearly burning down their apartment.
"Carrie, I know it's embarrassing, but there's something else that needs to be said," Mom utters, smoothing her hand through her hair and looking away. "I can't begin to tell you how much we appreciate how understanding your family's been through this whole debacle with Scott."
I feel my stomach start to churn, but it stops when Carrie steps forward to take Mom's hand.
"Naked photos seem so trivial after what Bob's been through, don't you think?"
"But we know that it's something the Kings would rather not have to deal with," Dad reminds her, looking at me like I'm in front of him for a cadet review.
"Scott's such a fantastic player, and I think he's proven that this season. He brings so much to the team." Carrie smiles over at me. "I mean, no one can argue with a thirty-game hitting streak."
"So, you don't think he's burned his bridges with management?" Dad inquires, glancing at her skeptically.
Carrie looks my father, the career military man, right in the eye. It's impressive because I've seen grown men quiver before him.
"Not if he continues to have the stellar year he's been having, sir."
"And I think you deserve a lot of the credit for that," Mom chimes in, nudging Carrie's arm.
"Oh, I wouldn't go that far, Mrs. Harper," Carrie scoffs, ducking her head.
"I always knew that, if Scott ever put his mind to it, he'd find the girl who was right for him," Mom replies, looking at Carrie approvingly before shaking her head at me. "He never took the whole relationship thing seriously. He was always thinking about baseball and not much else."
"Yeah, he's been quite the revelation," Carrie whispers softly, meeting my eyes.
"You'll look out for him, won't you, Carrie? I know he can try a girl's patience, but you know he's worth it, right?" Mom wraps her arm around Carrie.
My heart nearly stops, hoping she'll say yes.
"I'll be honest. I don't know where this is going between us. It's all so new." Carrie lowers her eyes, and I'm furious with myself for causing her to doubt me. "But I care about your son, and I intend to stand by him when it comes to my family, no matter what."
"That's all the mother in me needs to hear," Mom says, hugging her tight.
"You're all coming to the game tomorrow night, right?" I ask, stroking my jaw, trying not to get overly affected by how much my mom likes the girl I'm crazy about.
"Yep, we'll be there," Dad answers before heading outside with the steaks, beckoning me to join him.
"Bobby, too?" I question my mother with one foot out the door.
"I hope so. We'll see. He just needs a chance to simmer down," she replies, giving me a compassionate glance.
I shut the screen door, but I can still hear them talking inside. So I listen in as Dad squirts some lighter fluid on the charcoal.
"I promise I'll never mention the military tribute program again."
"It wasn't you, sweetheart. You were just being thoughtful," Mom shushes her. "Bobby's come a long way since he got injured, but he's not there yet. I don't know if he'll ever be that fearless boy I remember. The war stole that from him. I just don't want him to be afraid to keep on living his life."
I cross my arms in front of my chest, chewing on my lower lip, thankful that Dad always gets lost in his own little world whenever he steps near a grill.
"It'd probably help to have Scott home more often, wouldn't it?" Carrie asks, making an assumption that's not necessarily true.
"Sure, it would," Mom readily agrees.
I grind my teeth. Sometimes, it feels like all she and Dad think about is Bobby. He's their main concern. They don't realize the effect his behavior is having on me. It's why I stay away so much.
"But Scott's job is on the East Coast, and it is what it is," Mom continues. "He gets out to visit us at least twice a year, but I know how hectic his schedule can be. We don't see him nearly as much as we'd like." She smiles sadly at Carrie. "But we make do somehow."
I need to put an end to the direction this conversation's heading. "What are you two gals yappin' about in here?" I ask, sliding open the door and stepping back inside.
"You." Mom smiles at me.
"I hope you're saying all good things about me."
"Mostly," Carrie replies, a mischievous glint in her eye.
"Mostly?" I chuckle. "You're not tattling on me to my mother now, are you?"
"Only the stuff she needs to hear." Carrie raises her chin at me, causing Mom to laugh loudly.
So loudly that we don't hear Bobby reenter the kitchen until he says, "Like how she thinks I'm the good-looking one and not you."
"That's right, Bob," Carrie nods at him. "You're lucky I met you first, Scotty-Boy."
"C'mon. Let's eat!" Bobby calls out, zipping through the kitchen and out the door, Mom hurriedly following behind him like an anxious mother hen.
I take Carrie in my arms. "Thank you," I whisper, kissing her cheek.
"Hey, it wasn't me. It was all him." She relaxes into me, and I can feel how relieved she is that Bobby came back out to join us.
"You're pretty amazing. You know that?" I nuzzle her ear with my nose.
"I'm not one to hold a grudge." She lifts her chin, laughing when I nibble her earlobe. "Unless provoked."
"I'll be sure to remember that," I sigh, loving how soft she feels in my arms, the sexy richness of her laugh reverberating through my chest.
"I like seeing you like this," she says, resting her head against my chin.
"And I like having you here with me."
"Park Avenue meets SoCal, huh?"
"Hey, if it works. Don't knock it."
"Oh, it works," she says saucily. "Feel like showing me your old bedroom later?"
"Behave, Care Bear," I growl in her ear.
"Do I have to?" she teases.
"See, that's the thing about having two boys who went to military boarding school," I moan, gliding my fingers down her body.
"What's that?" She glances up at me.
"We never had our own bedroom when we were home. We had to share."
"So…"
"I'm afraid that's still the case." I look down at her, seeing her face fall.
She groans, "We need to find Bob a girlfriend."
"Next time, you're bringing your sister with you," I respond, dragging her outside with me.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Carrie
"Hey, mamacita. Your boy said to tell you not to get on the team bus," Pedro says, strolling out of the area reserved for the visiting team in San Diego's stadium, two nights later.
"Yeah, and he had a big smile on his face, too," Clara laughs, wiggling her eyebrows at me. "Somebody thinks he's gettin' lucky tonight."
"Clara, shhhh!" I rush over to them, looking nervously around.
"It's cool," Pedro chuc
kles. "Scotty already got permission from Tony to kick it at his parents' house, so nobody will be looking for him…if you know what I mean."
"It's the perfect opportunity for you two to have some alone time together," Clara teases me in an exaggerated whisper.
"I don't know about that." I shrug, hugging my arms to my chest. "Considering he shares a bedroom with his brother."
"Oh, he's not taking you home," Pedro informs me.
"He's not?" I ask, my eyes widening.
"Oh, no. He was bragging to me about how he has something special in store for you." Pedro's dimples appear, and I can't help but smile at what he could possibly be referring to.
"Ah, the excitement of sneaking around," Clara sighs, snuggling into Pedro as he drapes his arm around her. "Do you remember how we used to do that, baby, before we got married?"
"I still get you excited though, don't I, mama?" He jokes, kissing the top of her head.
Clara looks up at her husband. "Only if there's a bubble bath waiting for me back at the hotel."
"Then what are we waiting for? I'm all about getting you pregnant tonight," Pedro says, his eyes lighting up. "Vamanos!"
"Have fun, you guys," I call to them as they take off giggling.
"You too, Carrie!" Clara looks back over her shoulder at me. "Don't do anything we wouldn't do."
I listen to Pedro and Clara's laughter all the way down the hallway, shaking my head. Those two are still madly in love even after being married for a few years. Their passion for each other hasn't faded. In fact, it looks like it's burning brighter than ever. I hope the same holds true for me and Scott.
"Uh, sorry to overhear," Sammy interrupts my reverie, winding a cord around his hand. "So you're not coming back with us to the hotel, then?"
"No, I'm afraid not, Sammy." I bend down and concentrate on packing up my folders full of stats on the San Diego team.
"What do you want me to tell crabby-ass John if he asks where you are?" he presses, his scuffed sneakers coming into view beside me.
"Say I'm crashing with a friend of mine," I huff. "I'm sure you'll think of something." I stand up, and Sammy's right on top of me, his face inches from mine.
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