Page 89 of Convincing the Catcher

“All right, you disgustingly happy lovebirds,” the tattoo artist says, suddenly appearing next to us.

I sit back in my seat, grinning from ear to ear.

“You ready?” he asks her, and she nods, with zero hesitation and no nerves.

Then she reaches for my hand, and I get to be the lucky son of a bitch who holds it.

THIRTY-NINE

HARLEY

EIGHT WEEKS LATER

I sit beside Cane at a diner just off campus with our moms and Cane’s stepdad, Tripp.

“It’s so nice to officially meet you all,” my mom says, smiling from Freya to Tripp before nodding to Cane beside me. “You’ve raised a wonderful son. Cane is such a gentleman.”

I elbow him, snickering. “She thinks you’re a gentleman,” I whisper, and he squeezes my thigh playfully.

“That’s because I am,” he says proudly.

“Thank you. We’re pretty fond of him.” Freya looks at her son, her beautiful smile growing wider.

She has to be one of the hottest moms there is. She doesn’t look old enough to have a son who’s twenty-one—that’s for sure.

“Harland is an absolute sweetheart!” Freya adds sweetly. “And I’m so glad we could see her scrimmage today.” She looks my way. “You did so good! You’ve got a cannon.”

“Thanks,” I say, fighting a cheesy smile because hearing that will never get old.

It’s not something I go around bragging about, but I have one of the quickest pop-up times in college softball right now. It didn’t happen overnight, but it makes it that much sweeter for me.

If it was easy, it wouldn’t mean nearly as much.

“It’s pretty amazing that as cold and snowy as it is outside, they can play a game because of how huge that dome is,” my mom adds, taking a sip from her coffee. She grins at me. “Though I know Harley is waiting for warmer days to be at the actual field.”

“So true,” I say, fully agreeing. “There’s just something about being at the field outside.” I shrug. “You can’t beat it.”

Cane moves the slightest bit closer, and it’s enough for his delicious scent to hit my nostrils. I take a long breath, wanting to savior it. When we hug, I love to bury my face in his shirt or hoodie because the man smells good enough to eat.

Truly.

“Excuse me, is there anyone in here who could boost my battery?” an older woman standing near the front door says, and we all look her way. “I left the lights on, and now it won’t start.”

Cane and Tripp look at each other for a split second before they seem to have some silent agreement.

“We’ll be right back,” Cane mumbles to me, kissing the top of my head, sending a wave of warmth across my chest.

Standing up, they both walk toward her and follow her outside to her car. I smile like an idiot because … well, duh, because that’s my man. And my man is good. Like really, really good.

Once they’re gone, my mom sighs, still smiling. “Tripp seems like he’s really great with Cane, Freya. That’s so nice.” She stops, almost like she’s unsure if she should say anything in front of me. “It’s just so great that you found someone who loves your kids the way he seems to.”

Freya smiles, but I can see the emotion on her face. She sets her coffee down, but keeps her hands wrapped around the mug.

“It is. He’s … Tripp has been good to my kids since day one.” Her eyes seem to travel elsewhere. “When my first husband passed away, I didn’t really worry if another man would ever love my kids the way their dad did because to be honest, I never thought I’d move on.” She shrugs weakly. “I wanted to take care of my babies and just survive. That was it.”

“But then you met Tripp,” my mom whispers, and Freya’s eyes move back to hers.

“I did.” She nods. “And even though I had a lot of guilt over how I was feeling, eventually, I just allowed myself to love again.” She tilts her head to the side, flashing my mom the kindest smile. “And to be loved again. To let my kids be loved too. It wasn’t easy, and there are still days when I miss their dad so much, but Tripp has always been so understanding.”