Harper

The cursor on the blank page blinked, each flash mocking me. I’d been staring at this white screen for nearly an hour already with no luck. With a groan, I dropped my head down on the desk in my hotel room.

I’d woken up to an email from my boss, asking if I had any update on the story I was supposed to write on Jamil. He offered to read over anything I had so far, even if it were a few bullet points. I was sure he wouldn’t be happy to have a blank page sent to him.

That email had filled my stomach with a sense of dread. He mentioned that the story didn’t need to be delivered until the end of the season, so I’d assumed I’d have more time before he came knocking. We were nearing a month into the season.

There was only one thing I could write on this paper, but my fingers hesitated every time I tried to type the words. The only place those words existed were on a sticky note I’d scribbled my thoughts on after leaving Jamil’s house that day of his photoshoot.

Jamil Edman

A rehabilitation center

Someone named Jordan?

I had yet to connect the dots with how those three things were related. Between the call Jamil got back in Seattle to the text messages he got from Jordan, I’d contemplated nearly every possibility and none of them felt like something Jamil would want out in the world.

The only problem was what that left me with for this damn story—nothing.

“What kind of journalist do you want to be, Harper?” I asked myself as that cursor continued to blink at me. “You want to cover big stories, but at what cost?”

But how else will you get ahead?

Defeated, I closed my laptop and pushed away from the desk.

I was sure to drive myself crazy if I sat there any longer.

It was clear no story was coming out of me today.

What I needed was a distraction, so I took the elevator down to the lobby on the hunt for something to take my mind off my boss’s email.

With no idea where to go, I started to wander toward the entrance to the hotel with the hopes of exploring Boston.

It had been ages since I’d taken the time to see the city I was visiting while working.

I’d been so wrapped up in trying to advance my career that I never took the time to enjoy where my feet were, always looking toward the future instead of staying in the present.

“Harper?”

I pulled up short of the doors at the sound of my name. Standing over by the coffee bar was the one person I’d just been debating on writing a hit piece on upstairs. Jamil accepted his coffee from the barista and walked over to me, but not before dropping a large bill in the tip jar.

He wore a Chicago Cougars sweatshirt with a pair of sweats slung low on his hips. There was no doubt in my mind that any sports fan would recognize him instantly wearing those signature blue and gold colors.

“What are you doing?” he asked me with that brilliant smile that had women fawning all over him at ballparks.

“I was going to go for a walk. I needed to take a break from my work .?.?.” I trailed off, suddenly feeling like I was keeping something from him.

“Getting ready for tonight’s game?” Jamil asked as he walked with me toward the hotel entrance.

“More like trying to figure out my next story.” We emerged out onto the street, already catching the eye of passersby with Jamil looking like a walking billboard for the Cougars next to me.

“I have great news then,” Jamil replied after he took another sip of his coffee. “I’ve got your next interview.”

“With whom?” I asked.

The smile on Jamil’s face told me that he was quite proud of himself. “Nolan Hill and Adam Steel.”

“Two people post-retirement?”

He nodded his head, his excitement growing. It made the sinking pit in my stomach feel so much worse. Here I was with a sticky note stuck to my computer upstairs contemplating secrets that Jamil was obviously trying to keep while all he was doing was helping me.

“That could be interesting. Especially with both having the careers that they had.” A part of me hoped that if I delivered enough of these interviews and they did well enough, my boss would forget entirely about the story he wanted me to cover on Jamil.

“We can schedule it for one of our days off coming up. I know we have one the day we get back from these away series, but I was hoping to steal you for something else.”

We continued down the street with no destination in mind, just two people enjoying each other’s company.

“And what would that be?” I asked.

“There is a charity gala that day. It’s for the Boys & Girls Club.

Tommy has been a large donator and supporter of them, and he invited me to attend.

They’re auctioning off various items to raise money, so he asked me to donate a few jerseys and other memorabilia with my signature on it.

” Jamil turned sheepish as he paused, debating on what he was going to say next.

“I was hoping I could bring you as my date.”

I stopped in front of an antique shop that wasn’t open yet, mostly because my brain suddenly forgot how to walk and to buy some time before I responded.

“A gala?” I asked. “As your date?”

“If you’re busy, I totally understand,” Jamil rushed to add, politely giving me an out. I had to admit that watching him get mildly flustered was rather cute. So instead of answering him right away, I pretended to ponder a response.

“I would love to.” Jamil looked visibly relieved. “It would probably be good if I got out of my apartment for more than just work and the occasional meal run. I can’t remember the last time I put on a dress for a fancy event.”

Jamil’s eyes filled with heat. “I’m sure you’re going to capture every person’s attention the moment you walk in the room.”

The way he was looking at me with such sincerity made me want to believe him and maybe a small part of me was beginning to. “Jamil, why are you doing all of this? With the interviews? Why are you helping me?”

I’d asked this question once before and at the time, under the neon lights of that country line dancing bar, I’d believed him. Now, I wasn’t sure if any of what I was doing was actually helping him. So why would he keep helping me?

He looked at me for a few moments before he spoke again.

“Because I enjoy spending time with you. Does it help me in the long run? I don’t know.

It was the easiest explanation to get you to agree.

” Jamil walked a few paces in front of me before turning back around.

“When we met back in Florida, you took me off guard. I don’t normally meet people like you. ”

“What do you mean?” I asked when Jamil didn’t elaborate further.

“Everyone I meet nowadays acts like they know me—Jamil Edman, the hall of fame guarantee. But you didn’t act like that.

You’ve never acted like that. You don’t treat me like a commodity or some oddity to try and decipher.

That public persona isn’t me.” Jamil paced back closer to me and stopped mere inches in front of me.

If he breathed in deep enough our chests might even touch.

“You didn’t seem to care about any of that.

You took the time to let me show you who I am.

When I saw you again, I figured that was my chance at keeping someone like you around in my life.

And for what it’s worth, I like helping you.

You don’t give yourself enough credit for how good you are at your job. ”

When he finally stopped talking, his chest was practically heaving with each intake of breath. Those hazel eyes were shining down at me, reminding me of drops of starlight in the night sky.

I wanted to tell him that I didn’t feel like I deserved his kindness.

I wanted to tell him that maybe he didn’t know me as well as he thought.

But I didn’t say any of those things. Instead, I reached up on my toes and pressed my lips to his in the middle of that sidewalk in Boston.

For once I wanted to be the girl someone wanted.

I wanted to be someone worthy of the goodness that was Jamil Edman.

I was beginning to grow sick of the way my job was hanging over my head like an axe that was going to fall at any moment.

Instead of prioritizing my work as the most important thing in my life, I wanted to put my life first.

Jamil’s arms encircled my waist and held me to him.

Somehow this man was sneaking in to nearly every piece of my life.

But for once, I didn’t seem to mind. The moment I slipped my arms around his neck and pulled him in even closer, I debated on inviting him back up to my room before either of us would have to leave for the game today.

But before the words could get out of my mouth, my phone rang.

“I’m not sure this would be considered saved by the bell,” Jamil said as he took a step back from me.

When I glanced down at the name on my phone screen, I groaned in agreement. “It’s my mom. Just give me one second.”

After taking a few steps away from Jamil, I answered the call. That familiar sense of fear for wherever this conversation was about to go filled my mind. “Hello?”

“Harper! How are you?” My mother sounded cheerful and that only made me tense in anticipation.

“Good, we have the first game of our next road series today. We’re in Boston,” I told her.

“I know! My assistant told me this morning. You wouldn’t believe it, but so am I. Do you want to grab lunch?” I glanced over at Jamil, who was watching me with concern. I was positive I probably looked like I was having a mild panic attack at my mother’s request.

“Like today?”

“What else would I mean?” My mother asked incredulously. “I’ll meet you at The Whistlestop in an hour.”

The line went dead. I blew out a breath to try and diffuse the anger building inside of me. I was used to my mother dishing out orders for everyone to follow. But I thought I’d escaped that the moment I left Washington DC.

“What’s going on?”