The Best Mistake - Cookie O'Gorman Page 0,24

really don’t know why…you…”

My words trailed off because I’d just seen the visitor count and had to do a double take. The counter on the main page was now at 91,502.

“Wow,” I breathed. “Weren’t we sitting at something like 800 a few days ago?”

Walter sounded smug. “It was at 804 two days ago. Since you posted your article on the O’Briens, the count has risen by astronomical proportions. This is all thanks to you and that wonderful family, my girl.”

“This can’t be because of my article,” I said, clicking on the picture I’d paired with the story. It was a great shot I’d managed to get before leaving the practice field. Archer, Baylor, Chase and Dex had their backs to the camera, and I’d captured the moment when one of them (Baylor, I think) had made a joke, and they’d turned, all smiling to each other. Well, Archer had just been frowning less than usual, but still. “It has to be something else.”

“Have you looked at the comments?” he said.

“Doing that now.” I began scrolling, getting all the way to the bottom and finding…a crap ton of comments. They were mostly from students, but there were some left by alumni, professors and just people in the community as well. Walter was right. They loved the story. If I needed something to erase the crappy convo with my mom, this was the perfect pick-me-up. “That’s…that’s…incredible! Walter, your idea about covering the team and family was a definite winner. Congratulations!”

“Thank you, my dear, but you’re the one who wrote it,” he said. “And you did a brilliant job at giving people a taste of what The Howler has to offer. Bravo!”

“Aw thank you, I—”

“Now, for your follow-up,” he cut in, “I was thinking of delving even deeper. People can’t get enough of the O’Briens. They are salivating for more.”

“More?” I said faintly.

“Well, of course,” he said. “I was thinking to start we’d do a series of profiles, one for each brother.”

I swallowed. “You really think people would like those?”

“Honor, did you even read the comments? These guys are like a boy band, only instead of music, they play baseball. Each one has their own fangirls and fanboys. The O’Brien brothers are talented ball players, and it certainly doesn’t hurt that they’re easy on the eyes.”

“I hadn’t noticed,” I lied.

“Hmm, well, that’s probably because you are such a professional and would never let a pretty face turn your head.” Walter was a fantastic investigative journalist, and I was sure he could smell my lie from a mile away, but he didn’t call me on it. Bless his heart. “This would obviously require more time spent with the team, more in-depth interviews. For all intents and purposes, you’d be living and breathing all things O’Brien. I know it will be a lot, but I think you’re up to the task.”

He sounded so confident, but my pulse rate was rising at the thought of spending more time with the O’Briens. One O’Brien in particular if I was being honest.

“I don’t know,” I said. “The idea is wonderful, Walter. And I’d hate to let you down, but—”

“Honor, I know this is your senior year, and you’ve got a lot going on. But there’s a big story here. I want my best reporter on it.”

I took a deep breath.

“In case you didn’t know, that’s you,” he said with complete sincerity. “So, will you do it?”

As if I could say no to him?

“Of course,” I sighed. “Just let me know what you need.”

“I knew I could count on you.”

Walter sounded like he was smiling, but I didn’t know what he was so dang happy about.

His faith in me was totally misplaced. I’d been this close to chickening out, still wasn’t sure I’d made the right decision.

But the deed was done. Right or wrong, I was in this for the long haul. I just hoped it wasn’t the dumbest decision I’d ever made.

When the call ended 20 minutes later, I had my first follow-up interview scheduled for Tuesday at 2:00 PM.

With the Head Coach of the Wolves, Daisy O’Brien.

AKA Archer’s mom.

Not that that would be strange or anything. It wasn’t like I’d propositioned her son at a party then turned him down when he’d asked me out for a proper date. I mean, what kind of person does that?

I sighed as I stood, walked to my door and opened it.

The scene that greeted me was completely different than the one I’d left earlier. First, there were no O’Brien men