Page 80 of Convincing the Catcher

He took the chance away from us.

“Catch,” I rasp desperately, scared that if she walks away right now, I’ll never get to tell her how I feel, “I love you. I’ve loved you since Montana.” I cup her cheek. “Maybe I do have some guilt from when my dad died, but that doesn’t change the way I feel about you.”

Through tear-soaked lashes, she peeks up at me, and her lips curve down. I just blurted out that I loved her for the first time, and she only looks more fucking upset.

“We started out because I needed help financially for my prescriptions, and you stepped in, making a deal that I know you didn’t actually care about just so that you could help me,” she whispers sadly. “And then … my dad died, and you were my rock.” She inhales shakily, silently gazing up at me like what she says next is going to hurt us both.

“I think your guilt has everything to do with it, Cane.” She wipes her eyes. “And I think deep down, you know that too.”

Reaching her hand up, she cups my cheek.

“You are one of the best people I’ve ever met. You put everyone above yourself, and without you, I don’t think I would have ever gotten through the past few weeks.” She speaks sadly, and I brace myself for impact, knowing she isn’t finished yet. “But one day, if you don’t get to the root of why you’re always jumping in to save everyone around you, you’re going to resent people like me who let you do that.” She stands on her tippy-toes, looking into my eyes. “You’ve helped me way too much for me to let that happen.” Her lips brush against mine, but only for a split second. “So, I’m going to let you go now, Cane. Because I know you’ll never walk away from me on your own.”

“Did you not hear what I said, Harland?” I’m mad now, nearly hating her in this second. “I love you. I fucking love you,” I spew quickly. “Don’t you get that? Don’t you fucking feel it too?”

Her lip trembles and she blinks, sending tears down her cheeks.

“If that’s true, then you’ll still love me once you figure everything out that you need to,” she whispers. “And if I still feel the way that I do right now after I get through this grief and come out on the other side … we’ll know.”

“What do you mean?” I blurt out, wondering what the fuck she’s even saying.

If she’s saying she loves me too, she should just fucking say it.

“I’m confused and lost right now, Cane,” she whispers. “And so … you aren’t the only one who isn’t whole just yet. And if we ever do give this a shot—if I can get over my fear of losing a little bit of myself to someone after years of convincing myself that it would take away from softball—well, then I’ll want to know my heart is healed.” She swallows. “And I’ll want to know you aren’t carrying that guilt inside of you anymore too.”

She kisses me once more before keeping her lips just a fraction of an inch from mine. “I’ve always believed that when something is meant to be in this life, it’ll happen, no matter how many detours it takes.” She exhales. “So, I’m going to go now, and I need you to let me.”

She steps back before I can answer and looks at me, her eyes broken.

The last thing I want to do is let her go right now, scared that if I do, I’ll never get her back.

Then again, she was never mine to begin with. Never has been.

Inside, I want to chase her. I want to throw her over my shoulder and carry her back to my bed and make her see how much I fucking love her until the sun comes up. But the look in her eyes tonight wasn’t the look of someone who wanted me to chase after her.

I put my hand on my chest, feeling like I’m having a fucking heart attack, but knowing instead, it’s just the feeling of my heart being ripped from my body as it walks away with her. I don’t want to spend time apart getting better; I want to get better together. I want to help her with her pain.

And that right there, I know, is part of the problem.

THIRTY-FIVE

CANE

“This was such a nice surprise. Especially on a cold December day when I really didn’t want to leave this house,” my mom says, sitting across from me at the breakfast nook. I think this nook has always been one of her favorite parts of our house. “Coming to see your old mom today.” She smiles. “It’s been a long time since we’ve gotten to hang out, just the two of us.”

“I know it,” I say because she isn’t kidding—it has been a while.

Usually, Cash and I try to meet with her together, or I see her with the rest of my family at our monthly dinners. But after spending the past eight days moping around, almost showing up at The Nest way too many times, I decided that I should talk to one of the strongest women I know, who also seems always to have the answer for everything.

My mom.

She studies me for a moment, and her eyes narrow slightly because, just like always, she knows that something isn’t quite right.

“What’s going on with you lately?” she asks, trying to keep her tone nonchalant. “Everything good?”

“It’s, uh …” I nervously bob my head around, thinking about how the fuck even to answer. I’m not the guy who talks about my feelings. I sweep things under the rug, seeing how much it can hold before trying to fit more. “I don’t know,” I finally murmur. “I’m fighting with Cash,” I admit, knowing she’s going to be upset because that’s one rule she has—we can’t stay mad at each other.

“Why is that?” she asks, eyeing me over. “What happened?”