Page 6 of Convincing the Catcher

Before he can say anything, I turn to walk away, but of course, he stops me.

“Hale, I can’t let you do this.”

I don’t turn to face him, instead keeping my eyes forward.

“That’s too bad because I’ve already decided on it,” I say before walking back to my truck.

Without another word, I get in and close the door. And as I begin to pull away, I truly don’t know if I’m about to make a mistake, taking the fall for him and Huck. Either way, my mind is made up.

I could be about to throw my life away; that is true. But I’ve had a good life—aside from losing my dad. I’ve had more opportunities than most of the players I know, all because of my stepdad and his connections.

Huck and Liam wouldn’t stand a chance. I need to take one for the team right now.

Fucking. Literally.

HARLEY

Putting a ball on the tee, I get in my batting stance and nail it somewhere out into center field before reloading and doing it all over again. I had practice earlier today, but here I am, all alone at the baseball field, hitting bombs, because the softball field was getting dragged tonight, and I couldn’t sit in my room at The Nest—the female athlete house here at NEU—and continue fighting the urge to hop a flight back home to see my dad.

Every single day that passes, I worry I’m going to miss what time I have left with him. But I have commitments here. And when you’re at a Division 1 school on an athletic scholarship, you don’t really get the option to just go home when you feel like it. Even for something as big as this. It makes it even harder to go home when my parents are in Montana, and I’m all the way in Massachusetts.

I hit another, and I squint as I watch it go into the field. When I was a kid, I had the hardest time even hitting a double. Unless I got lucky and the ball was overthrown multiple times, I never really got past first base from a hit. Now I usually have the most home runs on my team. Haven is right up there with me though.

“Holy shit,” a voice comes from behind me, and I practically jump.

Whipping my head around, I’m shocked when none other than Cane Hale is leaned up against the dugout, looking at me.

“Didn’t mean to startle you,” he says, pushing off the dugout and taking a few steps closer. “You could show some of the guys on the men’s team a thing or two, you know.”

Wiping the back of my hand against my forehead, I drop my bat down, holding on to the end of it.

“Why are you watching me?”

He grins, and the smallest laugh comes from his mouth.

“I come here to think, Catch. Calm down.” He shrugs. “Didn’t know you were here till I walked out to the field. Then I got so mesmerized by you hitting straight bombs that I guess I just stood here like an asshole.”

I eye him over for a second before I turn my attention back to my tee and reload with another ball. After hitting it, I look back at him.

“Rumor has it that it was you who spray-painted Casco’s dugout.” I narrow my eyes, judging him. “That true?”

My words hurt him, no doubt. Because he instantly cringes and looks down. But him not saying anything tells me everything I need to hear. And while he may be the best baseball player on campus, I find what he did so unattractive.

“You’re that rich and that talented that you don’t care about another team’s property?” I utter, reloading my tee and hitting a ball between center and left field. “That’s gross, Hale. Just so you know.”

I feel him standing behind me with his gaze on my back. But when I hear movement after a moment or two, I glance back and see he’s walking toward his truck.

Maybe I’m a bitch for saying anything at all, but he made all of NEU look bad when he decided to act like a little kid and retaliate. I don’t respect that. Not at all.

No matter how talented or good-looking he is …

CANE

It’s almost nine at night when I park my truck in Coach’s driveway. I stopped by the field on my way here, and even though I should have turned around and walked away right when I noticed it was being used, I was so fucking entranced by the way Harley hit the ball that I found myself staring at her like a piece of art. The power in her body seems unreal for a girl who can’t be much more than five foot six. Her red hair was in a long braid, neatly slicked back to her head, the way all the softballers seem to wear it.

My dick twitched in my pants—and I can’t even try to lie and say it didn’t.

I snap my attention to the house in front of me before turning my truck off. For a minute, I just sit here, like a moron, staring straight ahead. I don’t know what will come of this. Maybe I’ll be kicked off the team. Hell, maybe out of school altogether.