5. Harper

“Wait a second, Piper.” I snagged one booster seat from the back of Trevor’s car and set it on the ground beside me, then I grabbed the other, all while I kept my hand locked around Sam’s wrist to ensure he stayed at my side. The pain that still throbbed in my bruised hand shot up my arm, but I didn’t let go. I only needed another second. “Thanks, Trevor.” I smiled at my neighbor, who was perched in the driver’s seat.

Asking for help had not been on my bingo card this morning, but desperation had me begging him for a ride to Lang Field. Honestly, I should have called Hannah and told her we couldn’t make it, but if there was any hope of Hannah’s plan working, then we needed to be here.

Last night I thought Piper and Trevor were overreacting about the foul ball thing. But it was very clear now that Boston was madder at me than even Piper was.

“Want me to come in with you?” His offer was sincere, but he’d already had to get up early and drive across town.

“We. Are. Late.” Piper’s voice was laced with desperation as she stomped her little foot with each word. She was hanging on by a thread.

Being behind schedule was difficult for her. I got that. But getting here hadn’t been easy. I worked hard to understand her brain, but I was also exhausted. This morning, I found my car covered in spray paint with deflated tires. Both Ubers I scheduled left without us when they discovered that I was the passenger. It was still early, yet I was already done.

“We’ll be inside in two minutes,” I assured her, then turned back to Trevor. “We’re good. Thanks again.”

He nodded, his mouth turned down in a concerned frown. “Call if you need a ride home.”

I couldn’t think that far ahead at this point. I just wanted to get through this.

“Ms. Wallace?”

I turned at the sound of the female’s voice and was greeted by a gorgeous brunette sporting sky-high heels with the red bottoms.

“Hannah?” I asked.

The smile she gave me was genuine. “Thanks for coming. Again, we would have sent a car.”

She’d told me that when I called to let her know we were running behind. She’d even offered to have one of the players, Emerson, I think, stop on his way. But the fanfare was all too much. Hannah tipped her head my way, and a big man dressed in a polo that said security stepped forward and took the booster seats from me.

“We’ll hang on to those for you,” he assured me.

Hannah crouched so she was at eye level with my daughter. “You must be Piper.”

Piper stared over the woman’s shoulder. “Last night there were thirty-nine thousand people here. It was the largest crowd Lang Field has had in the twenty-six years it has been open. The added standing room near the outfield was a wise choice.”

Hannah’s blue eyes flicked to me for a beat before refocusing. “You’re a smart girl.”

My daughter blinked at the stadium. “Can we go in? We are late.”

“I hungry,” Sam said. Although he’d had toast, a banana, two drinkable yogurts, and a scrambled egg since he’d woken up four hours ago, my almost four-year-old was always ravenous.

Hannah gave Sam a soft smile. “We have fruit and bagels set up in the team room.”

My son’s eyes widened when he realized Hannah was speaking to him, and he pressed his face into my hip, hiding.

I smoothed his soft red hair, my heart warming. He was shy, especially with unfamiliar adults. Day care been good for him, and his apprehension when kids were around had lessened, but now that the kids were no longer welcome there, I was pretty certain I’d have to bring him to work and keep him entertained in my office. Although he would love being with me all the time again, it would only set back the progress we’d made with his separation issues.

I bent and lifted Sam into my arms, silently reassuring him that I wouldn’t leave him. His little body relaxed a fraction in my hold.

Hannah gave me a sheepish smile, surely realizing that her attention had made Sam uncomfortable, and focused again on Piper. “You’re right on time. We’re just waiting on Christian Damiano. He had to stop on his way and pick up a friend. He’s bringing Puff to play. Did you know that we’re the only major league team to ever have a puffin?”

“Puff is an Atlantic puffin,” Piper said. “They are common in the northern Atlantic coastal regions. Westman Island lighthouse currently holds the record for the most puffins. About fifty-six thousand puffins were on that island at once. Not just one, like in Lang Field.”

Hannah tilted her head and glanced at me, causing Sam to bury his face in my neck and rub his freckled nose against my collarbone.

“But you get to see one up close and personal here, Pipe.” I sighed.

The poor woman was struggling to understand how to interact with my daughter. Most people did, so I couldn’t hold that against her.

“Lang Field holds the record for the most no-hitters. Sixteen total. Kyle Bosco holds the record for most runs scored at Lang Field. He’s been with the team for five seasons, and he has already scored 485 runs at home. Emerson Knight beat him this season with 113 runs.”

“I think you know more about the team than I do,” Hannah said.

Piper only blinked, gaze averted.

“She loves the stats,” I said.

“Can we go in now?” Piper asked.

Hannah led the way, talking to Piper over her shoulder. “I hope you’re excited to meet the players. We have Damiano and Puff, along with Knight, Price, and Bosco coming to hang out.”

I’d heard the names. How could I not? My daughter spit out facts about them on the regular. But other than Kyle Bosco, whose poster hung above her bed, I couldn’t pick any of them out of a lineup. And I couldn’t say I was thrilled at the idea of the bird. He was adorable in the pictures and videos that Piper had watched eight hundred thousand times, but I didn’t want to pass on my irrational fear of birds to my kids. So I tried to avoid situations where I’d be near them.

“How does that sound?” When Piper said nothing, Hannah glanced over her shoulder again, giving me a genuine smile. “Ready to go in? I promise everyone is happy you’re here.”

I held back a snort. I doubted any of these baseball players cared that we were here. But hopefully Hannah’s footage of us together would put a stop to all the hate.

Piper peered from side to side as we walked through the wrought-iron gates to enter Lang Field. Through the brick archways, we made our way into the stadium. The place was eerily quiet without the people.

When Piper took off running toward the wall of balls, I hollered for her to stop. But she paid me no mind.

“It’s okay,” Hannah assured me, hurrying after her. “Everyone gets excited to see the signed balls.”

With Sam in my arms, I struggled to keep up. At almost fifty pounds, he was really getting too big to be carried like this. But I couldn’t deny him. It often felt like he’d gotten the short end of the stick. While Piper required a great deal of attention, Sam was a go-with-the-flow kind of kid. Unfortunately, that meant he didn’t always get the attention he deserved. So if he wanted to be carried, then I’d do it for as long as I could.

Piper stopped toward the end of the wall and pressed one little finger to the glass.

“Kyle Bosco, number 29. Ball number 857.”

“We saw these yesterday,” Sam mumbled, giving me a small frown.

“We had to come back because Mom ruined the game. She has to say she’s sorry to the team.” Piper didn’t even look at us.

That wasn’t at all what I’d told her, but she refused to believe a word I’d said about not ruining the game. So I’d finally just sighed and let it go.

Hannah’s eyes narrowed, but I waved her off. I didn’t want a fight.

“How many balls are there on this wall?” I asked.

Piper moved to the row where the last two were placed. “Asher Price, number 5. Ball 869. Jasper Quinn, number 18. Ball 870.”

“You might be better at Revs trivia than anyone I’ve ever met.” Hannah smiled at my daughter.

Piper blinked at the glass and shifted back two rows of balls to number 857. “Kyle Bosco’s favorite game is trivia.”

Hannah nodded. “Want to go down and meet him?”

Piper turned and tilted her head up. Rather than focusing on Hannah’s face, she looked at a spot somewhere near the neckline of her black fitted dress. “Yes.”

Rather than gushing with excitement at the idea of meeting their favorite athlete like many kids would, my daughter responded with a single succinct word.

Hannah lifted a brow, as if in anticipation of that excitement. But after a moment, she gave Piper a nod and led us toward a heavy door that opened to a set of stairs. At the bottom was another hallway. We walked in silence down the long cinderblock tunnel that took us deep into the heart of the stadium. Clearly, Hannah had given up on making small talk with my daughter.

A set of double doors stood open, leading to a bright room. The space was filled with couches and tables and close to twenty people. Most were adults, but I spotted a child here and there. The group was milling about, and a few people hovered around the table filled with muffins, bagels, fruits, and other pastries.

“Can I have strawberries?” Sam straightened in my arms, his eyes locked on the massive bowl of his favorite fruit.

“One second,” I assured him.

Patience wearing thin, he squirmed in my arms, so I set him down at the threshold, then stepped into the room.

Multiple sets of eyes landed on us as the noise in the room quieted to a hush.

“We’ve all been expecting Harper. There’s no reason to make the poor woman more uncomfortable than Kyle already has.” A light voice cut through the silence, the woman’s British accent slight. She was petite, and a young boy kept close to her side as she moved my way. “I’m Zara Price, and this is my son Greyson.” She gave Sam a small smile. “Greyson also loves strawberries.”

“Unless they’re mixed with bananas.” Greyson yanked on Sam’s arm playfully. “Don’t call me Greyson. Just Grey. Let’s go eat the strawberries before Dad and his friends take them all.”

Sam tilted his head back, looking up at me, eyes wide.

I nodded. “I’m not going anywhere. You’ll be able to see me from the table.”

Hesitantly looking over his shoulder twice, he allowed Greyson to drag him toward the food setup.

“Sorry, Grey is his father’s son. There isn’t a shy bone in his body. He tends to forget some people are nervous in new places.” As much as she claimed her husband was outgoing, it was clear she was as well. “We’re all glad you’re here.”

“I’m going to make sure everything is set on the field,” Hannah said, taking a step away from us. “And deal with Jasper. I’ll be back.”

Over at the table, Greyson scooped up the bowl of strawberries. Then he disappeared under the tablecloth. A moment later, with one more look at me, Sam joined him.

My heart clenched. I’d love for him to find a friend. Although we’d never see these people again after today. Hannah had invited us for breakfast and mentioned a few photos on the grass with some of the players. She’d promised that the team would make a statement, and with any luck, it would deflect the wrath of Boston. Then my kids and I could live in peace again.

“We were fourteen minutes late today.” Piper was focused on a nearby table, where three men stood. The only one I could name was Kyle Bosco. Baseball getup or not, I’d recognize him. He had broad shoulders and a perfect head of dirty blond hair with natural highlights. His jaw was too chiseled for its own good, and he was impossibly good-looking. It was annoying. Piper had loved Streaks since she first discovered baseball, and in all that time, I’d secretly hoped she’d move on from him. Because the guy oozed southern boy charm, and no matter how much I pretended he didn’t affect me, I couldn’t help but get caught up in his good looks.

My mother had always warned me to be careful of the southern boys. She said they could charm a girl right into a broken heart. And she would know.

I forced my attention to another blond man who was a few inches taller than Kyle. He stood beside him, dressed in a gray shirt and jeans, rather than a Revs jersey and baseball pants. On Kyle’s other side, a man with a 21 on the back of his pin-striped jersey stood.

“Yes, well…” Zara shrugged. “I hate to admit it, but I’m known for being late.”

“So is Mom.” Piper zeroed in on Zara’s peach-colored shirt. Piper was only seven, but she came up to just below the tiny woman’s shoulder. “I don’t like it.”

“It drives Asher batty too.”

“Asher Price. Number 5. Traded to the Revs from Los Angeles this season. Batting average .301 during the regular season. But in the playoffs, he averaged .420. Almost high enough to set a record.”

“Aren’t you a smarty pants?” Zara smiled.

Piper shook her head. “I have high-functioning ASD.”

My heart clenched at her toneless words.

“That doesn’t mean you’re not smart.”

The deep voice startled me, and when I looked up from my daughter, I found a pair of warm brown eyes focused not on my girl, but on me. I hadn’t seen him come our way, but now he stood just two steps away. And once again, meeting his eyes caused my stomach to flip. It was the same sensation that had hit me last night. I’d barely shaken it off in time to stop the ball from hitting Sam in the face.

I clenched my fists at my sides, almost successfully keeping myself from wincing at the pain in my hand as I did. Annoyance ran through me as I continued to assess this man. Why the hell did my body have such terrible taste in men? My only comfort was knowing, without a doubt, that my brain wasn’t so dumb anymore. Jace had taught me that lesson.

Kyle shifted one step closer. “Hi. I’m?—”

“Kyle Bosco,” my daughter interrupted as she took two steps back. “Number 29. Right fielder for the Boston Revs, with a seasonal batting average of .225. One hundred sixty-five runs, twenty-eight home runs, fourteen assists. It was not your best.”

Light brown eyes narrowing, he dropped to one knee. Adults did that a lot to help kids feel comfortable and on the same level. In Piper’s case, it wouldn’t encourage eye contact. In fact, she took another step back and turned her body slightly in response to the move.

Unfazed by her reaction, Kyle went on. “It also wasn’t my worst season.”

Piper nodded. “Your second season with the Revs was your worst.”

My heart lurched at her comment, but Kyle just tossed his head back and laughed.

“Do you know everyone’s stats, or am I just your favorite?”

“Yes.” Piper focused on a spot on the other side of the room. “I like the whole team.”

“You excited to go out onto the field and run bases?” Kyle asked.

Though Piper nodded, I doubted that she’d actually do it. She knew the infield was sand, but I wasn’t sure she’d really thought about it. My daughter had aversions to several textures, sand being one of them. So as much as she might want to run the bases with her favorite athletes, I couldn’t imagine her forcing herself to actually do it.

Braced for the meltdown that could very well cause—I always braced for the next meltdown—I said, “We’ll see when the time comes.”

I tried not to put any pressure on her. The poor girl already put too much on herself. I had no doubt she’d been in sensory overload before we left the stadium last night, and that was without coming into contact with sand.

Kyle glared at me. “Leaving early?”

“We are leaving at two o’clock,” my daughter said.

Hannah had mentioned it to me, so I had told Piper to give her a sense of security, and that absolutely locked us into a schedule in a way most people wouldn’t understand. Leaving at 1:50 wouldn’t do. Neither would 2:15.

I pulled my shoulders back. “We’ll leave at two,” I reassured Piper so she didn’t get upset. “But the bases might not be her thing.”

Kyle opened his mouth, as if to argue. But he quickly snapped it closed again. He pushed to his feet and angled in so Piper couldn’t hear. “Give her a chance to do it.” His gravelly voice felt like sandpaper. “She might surprise you.”

As he stepped back, I fought the urge to slam my hands to hips. My hand ached enough as it was. Instead, I glowered at the bossy man. He didn’t have the first clue what he was talking about. Before I could formulate a retort, a large hand came up and whacked him in the back of the head, making his hair fly.

Kyle whirled around, smoothing his blond locks to their former perfection. “What the heck, Cam?”

“Don’t be an asshole,” the man in the gray shirt replied.

“Bad word,” Piper chided without looking at the new addition. “And you smell.”

Kyle barked out a laugh, the sound so harsh that Piper and I startled.

“Piper.” My face heated. She hated the smell of cologne or perfume, no matter what the scent. But her accusation made it seem so much worse. This man couldn’t have known.

“She’s not wrong,” Kyle said when he finally stopped chuckling. “I always tell you to go lighter on the cologne.”

With a sigh, the man turned to me. “I’m Cameron, Mr. Bosco’s very patient assistant. And I’m sorry for my odor.”

“You do not smell.” I shot Piper a warning look.

She gave me a stink face before turning away.

I took Cameron’s outstretched hand. “Harper Wallace.”

“I know.” He gave me a rueful smile. “You’re all we’ve talked about today.”

Irritation shot through me. “You and all of Boston.”

Kyle chuckled again, but when Cameron and I shot him matching glares, he turned back to Piper. “Want to get away from the smell and come meet my friends? I promise they’re less crabby than these two. You can give them details about their worst seasons too.”

Piper tipped her chin up, her eyes tracking up to his face for an instant, then moving back to a spot on his chest, and nodded.

Warily, I kept my eye on her as Kyle Bosco led her over to where a few of his teammates were chatting. My heart pounded, urging me to chase them down and keep Piper close, in fear that they were still holding a grudge and would take it out on her.

“He was an idiot yesterday, but he’s not a total jerk,” Cam said, rocking back on his heels.

“My car tells a different story.” I lowered my head and shook it. The strange fear turned into dread when I cataloged all the issues I had to deal with. Four tires, along with possible damage to the rims, and the paint. I groaned. I didn’t have the time or money for that.

“That’s actually on my to-do list.”

Frowning, I assessed him. “My car is on your to-do list?”

Cam nodded. But that didn’t make any sense.

“Where are the boys?” Zara asked, appearing at my side.

I waved a hand at the spread of food on the tables. “Under the blue tablecloth. With the bowl of berries.”

“Keen eye.” With a smirk, she strode over and lifted the cloth. Both boys looked up with very red smiles. “I think Grey found a new mate.”

I swiped a napkin off the table and crouched in front of Sam. “Why is my car on your to-do list, Cameron?” I asked as I finished wiping the berry juice from my son’s mouth.

“Oh, that’s on me,” Zara said. “I forgot to mention that Hannah, the lovely woman, gave me a job.” Zara beamed as she straightened from cleaning Grey’s mouth too. “Although I adore this little monster and his sister, I’ve recently realized how much I truly miss my work. I suppose I lost myself a bit over the years, and now I finally have the opportunity to rediscover my purpose.”

That resonated a bit too well with me. The lost part, at least. At the moment, I had no time to even think about finding myself again. I hardly had time to keep up with day-to-day life, let alone rediscover my passions.

“I feel that.” Only…what did my car have to do with Zara’s job? “Are you a mechanic?”

A bubble of a laugh burst from her. “Oh, no, darling. I’m a fixer. Hannah hired me. So I’m going to take care of the damage done by Kyle’s idiotic comment, and then…” She beamed at me. “Brace yourself, because it’s my mission to ensure that, by the end of the week, Boston adores you.”

I blinked. What the hell had I gotten into?