Page 44 of Convincing the Catcher

“Shh,” I utter as she begins to sob. “That’s not what he would have wanted, Catch. You know that.”

I don’t know how long we stand in the hallway like this, waiting for her mom to come out. But I also don’t care. I’ll be here as long as she needs me to. I’m not going anywhere.

TWENTY-ONE

HARLEY

I stand in the shower, letting the hot water pelt over my body, hitting my skin with a pressure so high that it should hurt. Only it doesn’t. I’ve felt nothing the past twenty-four hours.

My mom went for a ride, saying she needed to go to the hospital to get some things of my dad’s. I think she just couldn’t stand to be here. Neither can I. She also didn’t want me to ride with her because when I told her I would, she said she was okay to drive herself.

And then there’s Cane. Who took it upon himself to order dinner in last night to make sure my mom and I ate. He slept on the couch last night and made coffee this morning. He also asked multiple times how my sugar levels were doing, knowing that keeping up with monitoring has been the last thing on my mind. He’s everywhere, doing all the things, and I don’t understand why.

We aren’t even true friends, much less dating. So, why the hell would he sign himself up to be here right now?

I need to wash my hair, but I can’t. So, I simply stand here, under the water, hoping to wake up and escape this hell I’m in.

I stand here so long that, eventually, I get tired and sit down. Bringing my knees up, I rest my head against them and squeeze my eyes shut.

“Harley!” Cane’s deep voice yells outside the bathroom door, and still, my eyes stay shut. “Harley, you’ve been in there for over an hour! Are you okay?”

I’d like to call back out that I’m fine, but that would be a lie. Then again, I can’t seem to force my throat to come out with anything. I’m sure he thinks I’m in here, probably passed out from low sugar or something, but the truth is, I’m just … frozen.

The door opens, and still, I keep my eyes closed.

“Harley? I’m not trying to invade your space or make you uncomfortable, but, Jesus Christ, you’re scaring me,” he says, pausing. “If you don’t answer me, I’m pulling the curtain back to make sure you’re okay. All right?”

One of the most attractive men I have ever seen is about to see me naked because he thinks I’m either passed out or dead, and still, I can’t form a sentence to call out to tell him I’m fine. Maybe, before yesterday, I would have been horrified if a man like Cane Hale saw me naked, but now? I couldn’t care less. I realize now how minor that would be compared to what’s really happening in my life.

The curtain is pulled open, and I keep my forehead against my knees.

“Catch,” he rasps, and suddenly, his hand touches my cheek, pushing my hair away from my face. “Open your eyes, Catch. Just need to know you’re okay.”

It takes me a few seconds, and when my eyes do crack open, I’m reminded that I’m still here, in this shower, and that my dad is dead. Everything hurts, and I squeeze them shut again. Cane’s hand stays on my cheek for a moment before I hear him shift around. His hand moves, and right away, I miss his touch, but it’s quickly replaced by both of his hands as he works what I can only assume to be shampoo into my hair.

“If this isn’t okay, just tell me,” he whispers, his hands gently working through my strands. “All right?”

I don’t nod or say anything back because truthfully, I don’t have the energy to. But I also don’t tell him to stop, even though I probably should.

He lets the water run down my hair, and he massages my scalp quietly before he works conditioner in. He must have seen my comb hanging on the wall of the shower because soon, my hair is being combed out. This is the type of shit you see in the movies, but in a time like this, it’s not romantic. He’s just taking care of me—which I’ve realized is something he does for everyone, though I can’t figure out why.

Once the conditioner is rinsed out, he removes his hands, and the water shuts off. But before the air has a chance to cool me off, there’s a towel draped around my body and a pair of strong arms lifting me out of the tub.

My eyes crack open just as he carries me out of the bathroom and into my room. Ever so gently, he sets me down on the edge of my bed. He continues to dry my body off, and though I’m naked, he isn’t touching me in a romantic way. No, right now, he’s just being a caretaker.

Moving to my hair, he dries it the best he can before draping the towel around my body again. I know I’m exposed and bare. But it doesn’t feel forbidden, even though no man has ever seen me naked.

Cane walks over to my dresser, opening a few drawers before he finds what he’s looking for. I could tell him where everything is, but my voice won’t work. I feel like Ariel in The Little Mermaid, when Ursula took her voice in exchange for a pair of legs. Right now, I think Ariel was insane for wanting to be up here, joining this madness.

When he returns before me, my eyes find his, and I stare up at him.

“It’s Sunday,” he whispers. “Aren’t you due to change your Omnipod today?”

With every bit of energy I have, I nod. It’s only once, and it’s weak, but it’s enough; before I know it, he’s walking out of the room, and when he returns not even a minute later, he has my supply bag in hand before he kneels down before me.

“I’ve seen you change it once, and last night, I watched a few videos on how to change it just in case you needed me to today.” His head dips forward, and he looks up into my eyes. “Do you want me to, Harland? Or do you want to wait for your mom?”

Part of me wonders if maybe I’m dreaming because if this is real life, why is the baseball star of NEU, who is also stupidly attractive, kneeling before me, offering to change out my Omnipod? It isn’t as if we’ve known each other forever. So, why would he be this kind?