Chapter 3
THREE
CANE
The drive home from the field isn’t nearly as peaceful as it usually is.
I’m all alone, and it’s quiet, yet my mind is racing.
The fact that Coach left the field without a huddle or anything shows how upset he was with our team.
I’m upset with the guys, too, but who is going to believe me when I say that? I mean, I was there.
A truck on the side of the road has smoke pouring from the popped hood, and as I get closer, I see that it’s Liam. His truck is broken down more than it’s running, but it’s all he’s got, and I’ve never once heard him complain.
Pulling over in front of his truck, I push my door open and climb out. “What’s going on with it today?”
“It blew a radiator hose,” he grumbles. “I have one in the back seat of my truck.”
“Prepared?” I attempt to grin, but it’s pretty much useless.
“Yeah, when your shit breaks as much as mine does, you learn to have spares,” he jokes back, wiping his forearm across his forehead. “You mind grabbing it?”
Taking a few steps toward his truck, I open the back door and grab the hose before slamming it shut. I pass it over and watch him quickly get to work. I know a thing or two about cars, but Liam is always fixing his truck by himself. If this were me, I probably would have had it towed.
“Thanks, Cap,” he answers.
I lean against the driver’s side door and wait for him to finish up. Once he does, he climbs down and slams the hood shut, wiping the sweat from his face with his shirt.
“You all set?” I ask, and he nods.
As I start to turn to walk back to my truck, his voice stops me.
“I’m sorry, Cap. About all the running today.
” His head hangs. “I know Huck and I fucked up. After a few drinks, it seemed like a good idea. Looking back, I know it wasn’t.
” He pauses, swallowing gruffly. “I’m going to tell Coach tonight.
I just need to talk to Huck so that we can get our stories straight and figure out what the fuck he wants to do. ”
“No.” The short, simple word comes out of my mouth instantly, and I’m met with a confused gaze.
“What?”
“You … Lockhart, you could lose your scholarship. You get that, right?” I shake my head. “This isn’t just a stupid prank. You guys vandalized a dugout. It’s a pretty big fucking deal.”
“Yeah, and it’s something I did, and now my team is paying,” he snaps. “I need to take accountability for that.”
I throw my head back, cursing inwardly at how ridiculous this situation is. And the worst part is, I was driving the truck. It’s my fucking fault.
“I can’t let you throw away your dream of being a professional catcher for something this fucking dumb,” I utter, sucking in a frustrated breath. “I know how hard you worked to get here.”
“What … what are you saying?” he asks, confused. “You want me to just keep lying?”
I look down, pinching the bridge of my nose for a moment. Finally, I look at him again.
“You’re going to talk to Huck, and neither of you is going to breathe a word about this.” I hold his gaze, narrowing mine. “No matter who ends up in trouble, I need you to swear to me that you’re going to keep your mouth shut.”
“Cap … I don’t understand—”
“Tripp is a coach here. And a retired professional athlete,” I mutter. “No matter what, I’ll be fine.” I swallow. “I drove the truck there. I was stupid enough to do that after you guys had been drinking. This is my fault.”
Before he can say anything, I turn to walk away, but of course, he stops me.
“Hale, I can’t let you do this.”
I don’t turn to face him, instead keeping my eyes forward.
“That’s too bad because I’ve already decided on it,” I say before walking back to my truck.
Without another word, I get in and close the door. And as I begin to pull away, I truly don’t know if I’m about to make a mistake, taking the fall for him and Huck. Either way, my mind is made up.
I could be about to throw my life away; that is true. But I’ve had a good life—aside from losing my dad. I’ve had more opportunities than most of the players I know, all because of my stepdad and his connections.
Huck and Liam wouldn’t stand a chance. I need to take one for the team right now.
Fucking. Literally.
HARLEY
Putting a ball on the tee, I get in my batting stance and nail it somewhere out into center field before reloading and doing it all over again.
I had practice earlier today, but here I am, all alone at the baseball field, hitting bombs, because the softball field was getting dragged tonight, and I couldn’t sit in my room at The Nest—the female athlete house here at NEU—and continue fighting the urge to hop a flight back home to see my dad.
Every single day that passes, I worry I’m going to miss what time I have left with him.
But I have commitments here. And when you’re at a Division 1 school on an athletic scholarship, you don’t really get the option to just go home when you feel like it.
Even for something as big as this. It makes it even harder to go home when my parents are in Montana, and I’m all the way in Massachusetts.
I hit another, and I squint as I watch it go into the field.
When I was a kid, I had the hardest time even hitting a double.
Unless I got lucky and the ball was overthrown multiple times, I never really got past first base from a hit.
Now I usually have the most home runs on my team. Haven is right up there with me though.
“Holy shit,” a voice comes from behind me, and I practically jump.
Whipping my head around, I’m shocked when none other than Cane Hale is leaned up against the dugout, looking at me.
“Didn’t mean to startle you,” he says, pushing off the dugout and taking a few steps closer. “You could show some of the guys on the men’s team a thing or two, you know.”
Wiping the back of my hand against my forehead, I drop my bat down, holding on to the end of it.
“Why are you watching me?”
He grins, and the smallest laugh comes from his mouth.
“I come here to think, Catch. Calm down.” He shrugs. “Didn’t know you were here till I walked out to the field. Then I got so mesmerized by you hitting straight bombs that I guess I just stood here like an asshole.”
I eye him over for a second before I turn my attention back to my tee and reload with another ball. After hitting it, I look back at him.
“Rumor has it that it was you who spray-painted Casco’s dugout.” I narrow my eyes, judging him. “That true?”
My words hurt him, no doubt. Because he instantly cringes and looks down. But him not saying anything tells me everything I need to hear. And while he may be the best baseball player on campus, I find what he did so unattractive.
“You’re that rich and that talented that you don’t care about another team’s property?” I utter, reloading my tee and hitting a ball between center and left field. “That’s gross, Hale. Just so you know.”
I feel him standing behind me with his gaze on my back. But when I hear movement after a moment or two, I glance back and see he’s walking toward his truck.
Maybe I’m a bitch for saying anything at all, but he made all of NEU look bad when he decided to act like a little kid and retaliate. I don’t respect that. Not at all.
No matter how talented or good-looking he is …
CANE
It’s almost nine at night when I park my truck in Coach’s driveway.
I stopped by the field on my way here, and even though I should have turned around and walked away right when I noticed it was being used, I was so fucking entranced by the way Harley hit the ball that I found myself staring at her like a piece of art.
The power in her body seems unreal for a girl who can’t be much more than five foot six.
Her red hair was in a long braid, neatly slicked back to her head, the way all the softballers seem to wear it.
My dick twitched in my pants—and I can’t even try to lie and say it didn’t.
I snap my attention to the house in front of me before turning my truck off. For a minute, I just sit here, like a moron, staring straight ahead. I don’t know what will come of this. Maybe I’ll be kicked off the team. Hell, maybe out of school altogether.
But no matter what happens to me, it’s better than what would happen to my friends.
Liam wouldn’t have anywhere to go if he didn’t have this place.
Both his parents are living on the streets.
And Huck … well, being here is an opportunity of a lifetime.
He’s the first person in his family to go to college.
Most of them didn’t even graduate high school.
Me? I’ll be fine. But would it fucking suck to lose baseball?
Yeah. Baseball is what keeps me sane. When I was a kid, hockey was my thing, just like it still is for my brother, Cash.
But after my dad died, it all changed. Baseball was there when I was at my lowest, and to be honest, it kept me going when the pain of missing my old man got to be too much.
Opening the door to my truck, I climb out, slamming it behind me before heading toward Coach’s door.
It’s not ideal, me showing up here after dark.
But I can’t drag this out another day. I’m no martyr for taking the fall for this.
I was driving the truck. The way I see it, this is all my fault even if I wasn’t the one holding the can.
Lifting my fist up to the door, I don’t even get the chance to hit my hand against it before it slowly opens, revealing Coach in his sweatpants and an NEU T-shirt. He looks like he’s been asleep, his hair all messy, and I’m not used to seeing him without his hat.
“Wondered if you were ever going to get out of your truck,” he mumbles, eyeing me over. “What the hell are you doing here so late, Hale?”
I know I need to just blurt it the hell out already. Rip the Band-Aid off. Get it the fuck over with. So, taking a breath, I look him in the eye.
“It was me, Coach,” I say evenly. “I fucked with Casco’s field.”
Whatever facial expression I assumed I’d be met with doesn’t happen right away. And for a moment, he just stares at me, almost like he doesn’t believe a word out of my mouth.
“You spray-painted their dugout?” he finally asks, his eyes narrowing. “You, my star pitcher and team captain? You drove an hour and a half and damaged another team’s dugout?”
“I did,” I say, knowing I’m only lying about half of it. I did drive an hour and a half though, so it’s not complete bullshit.
“All by yourself, Hale?” His eyes bore into mine, and I know he’s reading me like a fucking book. Or trying to at least. “Because I have to tell you, I’ve seen the pictures, son. Seems as though whoever did it had some help.”
“No, sir,” I answer quickly. “I was alone. It was stupid, and I got mad, and I just … did it.”
The silence I’m met with is worse than if he were to scream at me, I’m pretty sure. I look down to avoid his judging gaze.
“I am so disappointed in you, Cane,” he utters, and still, I don’t dare to lift my eyes.
“I know,” I whisper, swallowing. “I am too.”
More silence, followed by a long breath that conveys just how ashamed he is without even saying a word.
“Go,” he finally mutters. “I’ve got to talk to Coach King. But right now, I just want you to get the hell out of my face.”
I don’t even get turned around to walk away, and he’s got the door slammed shut in my face. This is my third year with Coach. I’ve pissed him off plenty of times, sure. But not like this. Right now, he hates my guts. And I guess I don’t blame him because I’ve embarrassed my team.
Even as I sulk back to my truck, replaying the way he just looked at me over and over in my head, I know I’m doing the right thing.
I just hope they don’t kick me off the team.