Page 79 of Convincing the Catcher

“Why are you on my ass about this, Cash?” Cane says, clearly annoyed. “I don’t say shit about what you do with your life.”

“Because I don’t have some super-fucking-savior complex where I feel the need to save everyone around me!” his brother practically roars back. “You did this when we were growing up. You’ve done it with past friends. This fall, you did it with your teammates and took the blame for something you hadn’t done, and now you’re fucking doing it with Harley Meadows!”

“Cash, she lost her fucking father!” Now Cane is roaring, and I hear what sounds like a fist coming down against the counter. “We’ve been there before. We know how awful those first couple months are!”

My heart pounds in my ears, and blood fills my cheeks. I shouldn’t be listening to this, but my feet stay planted on the floor, frozen in place.

“You can’t save everyone.” Cash speaks more hushed now, almost defeated. “And you should start to connect the dots of why you’re always fucking trying to.”

Silence. For a few brief moments, that’s what Cash is met with before Cane mutters something bitterly.

“You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about,” he bites out. “You’re just always the perfect child, Cash. Leave me the fuck alone.”

“I don’t know what I’m talking about?” Cash snaps back. “I’m talking about the fact that since Dad died—since he was on his way to your fucking practice—you feel the need to try to fix everyone all the time!” Now it’s Cash who slams something against the counter. “You’ve blamed yourself since you were seven years old for something that you had no fucking control over! It’s why you do the shit you do! You’re trying to fucking fix yourself by fixing everyone else!”

“No,” Cane whispers, so quiet that I barely hear him.

“Yes, you do,” Cash says angrily. “Can’t you fucking see that before you can get better and stop blaming yourself, you’ve got to stop trying to help others?” He sighs. “I know you weren’t to blame for what happened to Dad. Everyone knows it.” He stops. “Now you just need to know it. And to stop making everyone your project because it’s not fucking healthy.”

My heart breaks inside my chest, and my eyes fill with tears. For weeks, I’ve let Cane rescue me when he has his own demons he’s fighting. He always seemed so strong, and I took advantage of that. I back away a few steps, but not in time to miss what Cane says next.

“She needs me,” he rasps. “And until she stops needing me, I have to be there for her.”

The back of my throat burns as a lump forces its way inside of it. My vision becomes blurry with tears, and even though I needed to hear what I just did—so that I know to leave Cane alone because he’ll never do it himself—it hurts.

He wasn’t ever in this because of what he saw in me. He was in it because something inside of him is broken. And that brokenness makes him want to fix other broken things.

Broken things like me.

I turn, quickly running toward the front door and hoping that he doesn’t hear me. I don’t have shoes on, and I’m wearing his clothes, but it doesn’t matter. Because I can’t breathe right now, and I need to get away from here.

Because like I said … he’s never going to be the one to leave.

CANE

The sound of the door opening before it slams shut has me quickly stepping into the hallway to see who it is. Dread fills my gut, and somehow, I know it’s Harland running away.

I look at Cash, narrowing my eyes.

“If she fucking heard all the shit you just said, we’re fucking done,” I growl, my chest heaving. “I fucking mean it, Cash.”

Rushing toward the door, I slide my sneakers on as fast as I can before I rush outside. Instantly, rain hits my face, damn near turning me to ice because it’s barely above freezing tonight. Once I’m on the sidewalk, I spot her, running barefoot toward The Nest.

“Harland, wait!” I call out. “Your feet are going to get fucking frostbite!”

The party across the street is over, and though the driveway is still full of cars, the house is dark. It’s nearly two in the morning now. Everyone else is asleep besides me and Harland, apparently.

And my brother, who took it upon himself to show up in the middle of the night and tell me everything that was fucked up about me …

I expect her to run faster, but when her steps slow, she doesn’t turn around. The closer I get, the more I see her shoulders shake, and I walk in front of her, looking down.

She shivers. “I’m sorry,” she says, her voice a mere squeak. “I’m sorry I kept letting you try to fix me.” She sniffles. “I heard what your brother said, and he’s right. You can’t save everyone.” She looks down. “You can’t save me.”

Forcing her chin upward, I narrow my eyes. “Fuck Cash and whatever he said, Harland. He doesn’t know what he’s talking about.”

Her eyes study my face, and her eyebrows pull together. “I think he does though.” I shake my head in disagreement, but she continues, “He’s your brother. He knows you better than anyone.”

I love my brother. He’s been my best friend for most of my life, but right now, I fucking hate him. Because in the morning, when Harland woke up in my bed, maybe she would have been ready to give us an actual chance. Now that’s ruined. He filled her head with doubt and made her feel like she had done something wrong.