Page 71 of Convincing the Catcher

Because even though she gave something to me that I’ll always hold on to and no other man can ever have, I gave her a part of myself too. A part I’ve never given anyone. And to be honest, I don’t want it back.

It’s hers now.

THIRTY-ONE

HARLEY

Following Haven’s lead, we all stretch, counting loudly so that Coach doesn’t scream that she can’t hear us. And even though it’s felt good the past week to be back at practice, it feels … different.

Practice in the field house isn’t my favorite, but our team is lucky that NEU has such a nice one that it really does feel like we’re at an actual field. But still, I’m ready to be outside. I like the sun on my face and the dirt beneath my cleats. And even though I keep telling myself that’s got to be the reason why I’m not as happy at practice, the truth is, we’ve been practicing inside for two months now—long before my dad died. And before two weeks ago, I had no issues with it.

Softball was something my dad and I played together. Whether it was at the batting cages, in the yard, hell, even in the hallway when I went through a stage at age thirteen of being scared of blocking the ball, he’d have me gear up at home, and he’d throw balls at me.

Not gently either.

He’s gone now, and the game just doesn’t feel the same. Maybe it’ll pass—God, I hope it does. The field? Inside or out, it has always been my sanctuary. I can’t imagine not having that anymore.

“All right, ladies,” Haven calls out loudly, “let’s have ourselves a good practice.”

She claps her hands together noisily before we all head to different stations, mine being bunting.

Walking to my bag, I pull out my batting gloves and put them on before I head back over. Gigi is ahead of me in line to hit.

“Oh, ladies!” Coach calls out from the fielding station. “I almost forgot to remind you about the baseball-softball breakfast at the cafeteria. Remember, we talked about it last week, and it isn’t optional!”

My stomach drops. So far, I’ve avoided Cane pretty well. He’s texted me a few times, and I’ve responded, but barely. Not because I don’t want to talk to him, but because I miss him. I miss him so much more than I would have ever anticipated. And even though I’ve been torturing myself, stalking his social media to see if he’s hanging out with other girls, I keep telling myself that eventually, if I give myself some time and put space between us, the feelings I’m having will go away. And now I have to face him head-on at some stupid breakfast.

Once Coach is done talking, Gigi glances back at me. “Ugh, I forgot about that.”

“I didn’t even know about it,” I utter, tightening my gloves. “What is it?”

“It’s a breakfast gathering for the sponsors who helped with our locker rooms and dugouts,” she whispers. “A way to say thank you, I guess. From the baseball and softball players here at NEU. Apparently, the school is having it catered or something.”

“Great,” I practically groan, earning me a confused look from Gigi.

“I thought you and—” She snaps her mouth shut. “Never mind. Not my business.”

Gigi misses a lot of gossip because she doesn’t live at The Nest with many of us girls since she’s a freshman. Not like I’ve gossiped about Cane and me, but Haven has basically pounded information out of me daily, making me finally snap and say that we’re just friends and telling her not to bring it up again.

“We’re friends,” I utter. “Sort of.”

“Noted.” She nods her head. “Well, good luck with your … friendship.”

It’s her turn to bunt next, and she walks up, killing it, like she does with everything. I do think she loves the game, but I also think that her dad forces her to love it, and sometimes, that makes it less enjoyable. She barely speaks about it, and yet I know she has immense pressure on her constantly.

My dad pushed me to be my best, but he always said I had to want it for myself. He couldn’t want it for me and didn’t want to unless it was my dream.

When it’s my turn, I take a few steps toward the assistant coach, and that’s when it happens—my monitor begins shrieking.

Everyone on the team is so used to it that they may glance my way, but they’re unalarmed, and they continue doing what they are doing. It’s something that shouldn’t be a big deal to me—it happens sometimes during practice and even during games. But in this moment, already being on edge … it is a big deal.

It’s the biggest deal. And that’s why, without thinking, I charge toward my bag of supplies, and when I reach it, I throw my bat against the wall. Something I have never ever done.

Within ten seconds, Coach is in front of me as I search through my bag for some sugar, pulling a fun size of the Wild Berry Skittles out, and as pathetic as it makes me, my heart hurts when I think about when Cane brought them to me.

“What the hell was that about, Meadows?” Coach hisses, standing over me, though I don’t look her in the eye. “We’re lucky enough to have this facility to use during the winter months, and you’re out here, throwing your bat against the damn wall.”

I look over at my bat as it sits on the turf and lift my eyes to the wall beside it.