Page 4 of Convincing the Catcher

With his drink in his hand, he struts back toward the door, only glancing our way for a split second before he makes his way outside. And the second he’s gone, my phone vibrates. When I look at it, it’s a reply from my mom.

Even though she tries to sugarcoat it, I know my dad isn’t doing well. I just hope he can get a miracle. If he doesn’t … I don’t know how I’ll stay here, living a dream that was ours. He taught me so much about the game.

I put my phone down and try to clear my thoughts from anything that’s going to bring me down. I need my mind to be sharp for our scrimmage in a few days.

CANE

What hasn’t been fun since word got out about my moronic teammates’ choices a few days ago are the looks I’ve been getting all around campus. From professors, classmates. Hell, even the lady who works in the cafeteria didn’t greet me with her usual smile. I think the worst of them all was the one I just received a few minutes ago from a girl I’d never talked to but admired from afar.

Harland Meadows—or Harley, as everyone calls her—is hands down one of the most famous athletes on campus. Not just because she’s one of the best catchers in women’s softball, but because she’s also a type 1 diabetic athlete who has made it her mission to use her platform to educate and uplift other athletes with illnesses and diseases. With a pop time behind the plate of one-point-seven, she’s a fucking beast.

A beast who looked at me like I was a disgusting insect because she no doubt thought I’d spray-painted another team’s dugout.

My phone vibrates in my pocket, and I don’t even need to look at the screen to know it’s likely my stepdad, Tripp, or my mom. I’ve avoided both as long as I could the past few days, but I’m going to see my stepdad eventually because he’s on campus, so I guess there’s no sense in waiting any longer to get my ass chewed out.

Taking it out, I see it’s Tripp and sigh. “Hello?”

“What in the ever-loving hell is this I’m hearing that you fucked with Casco Bay’s dugout, Cane?” He cuts right to the chase, not even saying hello. “Tell me you didn’t do something so stupid.”

I run my hand over the top of my head, tugging my hair slightly, as if it’s going to help my nerves right now. I don’t know why I even bothered getting an energy drink made at Coffee Hut. There’s no way I’ll drink it, as jittery as I’ve been.

“I can’t really talk about it, Dad,” I say, swallowing as I wait for him to lose his shit on me.

Tripp has been in my life since I was twelve. It took me a while to call him Dad, and I still don’t always do it, but my biological dad has been gone for a long time, and Tripp stepped in for me, my mom, and my siblings when we needed him most. He’s earned the title.

“I know you didn’t just say that, Cane,” he answers angrily. “You saying that tells me that it’s true. That you did it or at least know who did.”

I blow out a long breath, grinding my back teeth.

As much as I want to tell him I didn’t—because even though I was there, I didn’t touch anything—I can’t. Because Liam—stupid as he may be—is at NEU on a full scholarship, and his parents are addicts. He can’t afford to lose his full ride. And Huck, well, I know how hard the dude worked to get here too. His mom works the graveyard shift at the hospital, and his dad is a mechanic. Not all of my teammates are privileged like me to have a retired NHL stepdad who can put me through school if need be.

“I have to get to the field,” I say quickly. “I’ll call you later.”

“Your mom is going to lose her mind, Cane,” he says, and I can tell he’s gritting his teeth. “You owe her an explanation.”

“Yes, sir.” I sigh, knowing I can’t give her one, but at least it sounds better than telling him no.

He ends the call before I have to, and I slide my phone back into my pocket, not even wanting to look at my notifications. People are going to have a field day with this.

Hell, I could be kicked off the team.

And yet here I am, still unable to just tell the fucking truth.

The entire team stands in a circle around the coaches. Our main coach, Coach Lunt, may have sunglasses on, yet I can still see the anger on his face.

“Some of you are going to admit what you did, or this entire team will forfeit the scrimmage next weekend. That’s a fucking promise, boys.” His voice is low yet raged. Every word is dripping with pure resentment.

He nods toward Huck. “You care to say where you were the other night?”

“Um, I was at home.” Huck instantly panics.

He had a few drinks the other night, and I’m sure, at the time, it seemed like a good idea. He told me he was going to piss in their dugout, and I figured, What the hell? No big deal. Casco Bay is an hour-and-a-half ride, but they made the drive to us, so I guess we did it too.

With Liam at my side, I can feel him shifting. He’s one of the best catchers who’s ever caught for me, and selfishly, I don’t want him to be benched.

Coach yanks his glasses off, looking at Assistant Coach King. “These boys look like they want to run, don’t they?”

“Sure do,” he says with a nod, spitting out some sunflower seeds from his cheeks. “As a matter of fact, Coach, I think that’s the only thing they want to do today.” He looks at each one of us, challenging us to speak up. “Isn’t that right, fellas?”