Page 91 of Convincing the Catcher

FORTY

CANE

I bounce the rosin bag in my hand lightly, letting the powder coat my hand before dropping it beside the mound.

One more strike. That’s all I need right now to end this game and help my team come out of this with the win.

The first few innings were rough. I won’t lie; I was starting to sweat, thinking this game may not go our way. But here we are, two outs in the final inning, and as long as I can keep my shit together, we can walk away winners.

Liam flashes me the sign—a fastball. My arm is starting to get tired. I’ve pitched most of the game, and I’m starting to feel it too. But if I can end this right now, I’ll be able to catch some of my girl’s game over at the softball field.

Which is actually more of why I’m ready for this to be over. I want to see her behind the plate, doing her thing, like the queen she is.

I take a deep breath, setting my shoulders back before turning to my side. I chew my gum in my mouth, narrowing my eyes to zero in on this mission. My leg lifts, the ball staying in my glove for another split second, and then I fucking throw. With everything I have. Every single bit of strength that’s left … I send it right toward the batter. And I damn near leap into the air when the sweet sound of the ball meeting Liam’s glove hits my ears.

We did it. Me and Liam and our whole team.

We won.

The batter backs away, shaking his head toward the ground, most likely mad at himself, and my team bolts toward me, lifting me into the air before another group lifts Liam up too.

“Helluva pitch that was, Hale,” Liam calls over the sound.

“Helluva catch,” I drawl, grinning and holding my glove out.

His glove smacks against mine, just like it has countless times before.

Maybe it wasn’t healthy for me to step in and take the blame for the dugout situation, but the truth is, I’m glad I did. Because Liam? He deserves to be here. He’s earned this moment. And Huck has too.

So, while I understand I need to have boundaries, I’m never changing the part of me that just wants the people I care about to have good things happen in their lives. Fuck no.

Finally, they put me down, and we shake the other team’s hands. And even though I’d never rush Coach during his speech, I’m watching the time like a hawk because I want to see my girl play.

Plus, I really want to see her ass in her tight softball pants.

I rush from the baseball field, only stopping at my truck long enough to grab the jersey I bought with Harland’s last name and number on the back of it out of my back seat. Ripping my own uniform top off, I throw it onto the floor before slamming the door shut. As I run toward the softball field, I pull the other one down over my head, ready to be loud and fucking proud to cheer on my hot girlfriend.

Jogging up to the bleachers, I find a seat near the bottom, and within minutes, Huck, Liam, Bradley, and Juan are surrounding me.

“I’m not gonna lie; I kinda think she’s better at framing than I am,” Liam utters beside me. “She’s so fucking smooth about it too,” he says, watching a pitch come in before Harland effortlessly catches it in front of her, without the glove so much as moving an inch somehow.

“You both are good,” I tell him, knowing that deep down, he’s probably afraid I’m going to tell him that he’s not as talented as my girlfriend is.

“You don’t have to lie to him,” Juan whispers. “Give it to him like a man.”

I ignore him and my other idiot teammates, wishing they were sitting literally anywhere else because they are so fucking loud and obnoxious.

Gigi strikes out the person up to bat, making it three outs, and like the pathetic jackass I am, I can’t stop staring at Harland as she stands, pulling her mask up so that it’s resting on the top of her head before walking into the dugout.

A few minutes later, she’s got her batting gloves on and her Ghost Unlimited in hand, and she’s out of the dugout, taking a few practice swings.

“Oh shit, it’s about to go down.” Huck nudges me. “What do you think? Our girl about to get another homer?”

“Our girl?” I say, snapping my gaze toward his. “What the fuck is this … our girl? That’s my girl, Huck. Go get your own.”

“Maybe I’ll go visit your mom,” he utters. “If I wasn’t terrified of Tripp, I’d shoot my shot.”

“She is hot,” Juan chimes in, and I narrow my eyes at him, making him hold his hands up. “I’m joking. I’m joking.” He points nervously at home plate. “Oh, look. Your girlfriend is up to bat. Better pay attention to her …”