Chapter 11
ELEVEN
CANE
The water sprays over me, and I can’t help but continue rolling my shoulder to relieve some of the tension in my arm. I’ve been pitching since I was nine years old, and my body likes to remind me of it most days. Especially those that include a game where I pitched the entire thing.
Turning the water off, I half-ass dry my hair and body before wrapping the towel around my waist. One thing I wish is that my bedroom had a bathroom.
But I’m on the bottom floor, so at least it’s only down the hall.
Not that I care too much. I’m used to locker rooms, where my teammates walk around with their dicks practically out.
Pushing the door open, I start down the hall, but Jameson’s voice catches me.
“Yo, Hale. You’ve got a visitor,” he calls from the front door.
When I turn to look around the staircase, Harley’s eyes land on mine before widening.
Her gaze drops down to my towel before quickly going back to my face, and I can’t stop the smirk that tugs at my lips, knowing she’s drinking me the hell in. I could go change, but she seems to be enjoying the show, so why would I do that?
When I strut toward her, Jameson grins. “Wow, a bit forward, isn’t it? Answering the door like that?” He waves a hand at me but starts to turn away. “Y’all have fun.”
Slapping one hand on the doorframe, I tilt my chin at her. “What can I do for you, Catch?”
At this point, she’s not looking at me at all. No, instead, she’s looking everywhere else, clearly uncomfortable that I’m in a towel.
“I didn’t mean to … catch you at a bad time.” She clears her throat, looking up at the ceiling. “You can change, you know.”
“What fun would that be?” I drawl. “Then you wouldn’t be blushing the way you are.”
That seems to snap something inside of her, and her eyes move to mine and narrow slightly. “I’m not blushing, asshole.” Her lips purse. “I simply thought, you know … normal people don’t come to the door in a towel.”
“Whoever told you I was normal?” I wink. “And if I’m making you that nervous, I’ll go change.”
“I’m not uncomfortable, Hale,” she bites. “I’ve seen my fair share of men in towels before, you know.”
“Oh, now you’re just trying to make me jealous, Catch,” I drawl, cocking my head to the side. “But, all right”—I fight my amusement—“I get it. You’re not uncomfortable.”
Harland Meadows is undoubtedly one of the most badass women I’ve ever met. She carries herself through games with pure confidence, and everyone around campus knows her name and respects her. When she walks in a room, she’s got swagger that I understand because as an athlete myself … I have it too.
Right now though, as much as she doesn’t want to admit it … she’s uncomfortable.
And me? I fucking love it. If I can get under her skin or turn those soft cheeks a little pink … that means I’m getting to her.
She looks around, suddenly fidgeting nervously with her hands.
“How soon could I get the assistance with”—she swallows—“you know, my medications and Omnipod supplies?”
“As soon as you’re ready to take the help,” I say evenly.
“So, if you’re here because you’re ready now, then let’s go to the pharmacy.
” I swivel my head slightly to see the clock.
“It must close at five, so guess I’d better haul ass and get dressed.
” I lean a tiny bit closer to her. “Unless you want me to just go like this.”
Her hand shoves against my chest. “No, asshole, I don’t.”
“All right, fine.” I hold my hands up before nodding my chin toward my truck. “My truck’s unlocked. I’ll be right out if you want to wait inside.”
Her eyes suddenly fill with second thoughts, but before she can say anything else or fight getting in my truck, I close the door and jog up the stairs. Smiling like a fucking fool because I just got one step closer to the catcher.
And that’s saying something because the girl is not easy to get to know.
HARLEY
Stupid six-pack. Stupid wet six-pack. Stupid V-line and stupid towel.
I’m not the girl who is easily thrown off her game. Sure, I don’t have a ton of experience with guys, but overall, I’m a confident woman. But all of that went out the window when Cane freaking Hale came to the door, fresh from the shower, wearing only a towel.
We ride in silence to the pharmacy. Well, he tries to make small talk, but I seem to forget that I have a brain half the time he’s around. It’s annoying. No, it’s infuriating. It’s likely just because he’s being nice enough to help me and it’s screwing with my mind.
Yeah. That’s it. It’s not the six-pack. Or the towel.
Definitely not the V-line. Nope. Not at all.
“Harley?” he says, his voice questioning, like I missed whatever it is he just asked, so I turn toward him, pulling my head out of the land of Cane Hale’s wet six-pack.
“Sorry, what?” I blurt out. “I didn’t hear you.”
“I asked how often you need to restock your medications,” he says kindly.
“Once a month usually,” I say, cupping my hands together.
He glances at me and then toward the road.
“For what it’s worth, I think it’s really badass that you don’t let challenges stop you from playing ball.
I mean, I’m sure it can’t be easy to play D1 softball, go to classes, and throw diabetes into the mix.
” He shrugs. “Fuck, half the time, I feel like I’m drowning with just school and baseball. ”
Part of me doesn’t want to be honest right now. Actually, most of me doesn’t want to. I could just say thank you and move on with my day. But this guy, who hardly knows me, is fronting the bill to keep me healthy. I guess a part of me thinks I owe him something for that.
“When I was a kid, I wasn’t naturally talented when it came to sports.
I wasn’t an All-Star. I was smaller than the others—weak, according to most of my coaches.
It sucked sometimes. To want something so bad but your body wouldn’t let you have it.
So, I worked. And I trained. I got bigger and stronger, and when I finally became the athlete I had always dreamed of being …
it felt so damn good to think about all those coaches who’d overlooked me.
” I grin, looking down at my hands bashfully.
“It felt like a big fuck you to every person who doubted me. Which, by the way, was a lot.”
I sigh. “And then in high school, right when scouts began to come watch me play, I was diagnosed with diabetes. And for a bit—longer than I’d care to admit—I thought it was over.”
I glance at him, and he looks my way. “And then I brushed myself off and decided that from that point on, I’d try to look at it as a positive.
I’m healthier than I’ve ever been because I’m so intentional with everything I put in my body.
And now, years later, I’m reminded that I can do hard shit. And no one can take that from me.”
As surprised as I am for everything I just spewed, he’s more shocked, I swear. But he covers his astonishment with a smile.
“That’s badass, Catch. Truly.” We pull in front of the pharmacy, and he puts the truck in park. “I understand if you don’t want me to go in with you. I could give you my card, if that’s better.”
I stare at him. “You’d really do that? You’d give some random chick you hardly know your card. Just like that?”
His eyes float between mine, and the corner of his mouth turns up the slightest. “What can I say? Guess I just get a good feeling from you.”
Something inside my chest flutters, but I know it’s not my heart. Hell no. No way. So, I choose to ignore it and give him a slightly awkward nod. “Welp, we’d better get inside before they close.”
We get out of the truck and close our doors, and then we walk up the steps together. He pulls the door open, holding it for me.
“Thanks,” I utter shyly before heading toward the front.
The only woman in line finishes paying and walks past us, and Cliff looks at me and then to Cane.
“I was hoping you’d be back. You must be running low by now?” Cliff says, turning away and walking toward the shelf. “I have all of your things right here.”
“Yep, sure am,” I whisper, stepping up to the counter. The back of my neck is hot, and I don’t know if it’s from shame or just from feeling uncomfortable in this moment. Whatever it is, I don’t love it.
When Cliff returns before me, he slides everything across the counter.
“Did you get your insurance figured out?” His eyes move to Cane again and back to me, undoubtedly confused as to why he’s standing right behind me.
“Um, no. Not yet.” I clear my throat nervously. “My friend here has been kind enough to cover my cost while I figure it out though.”
He’s even more confused now, but he keeps his expression unchanged and finally smiles politely as he takes Cane’s card when he passes it to him.
“That’s great, Ms. Meadows. I’m glad it all worked out.”
I don’t say anything back, and once we finish paying and head out the door, I stop on the sidewalk because as much as I appreciate his help, it’s also killing me inside that I had no choice but to take it.
I have to now depend on someone else to live my life. And I hate the feeling. So damn much.
“Just so you know, I do make some money from my socials, so the second I get paid, I’ll give you everything I can to pay you back,” rushes from my lips. “And when I can, I’ll pay you back every cent that gets spent.” I hold up today’s receipt. “I plan to keep track of it all.”
He leans against his truck, grinning. “Shucks, Catch. I thought my payment was you being my friend.” He shrugs his shoulders playfully. “You trying to get out of that or something?”
“What?” I say, frowning. “No. No, not at all. But it’s just … being your friend doesn’t cost money.” I hold up my bag. “My monthly prescriptions? They do. A lot of it.”
He scrunches his nose up. “Maybe not money, but I’m sure some people won’t be happy about it. I’m pretty hated at the moment.”
I understand people are upset that he embarrassed NEU by retaliating and causing damage to another campus’s property. I really do get that, and it’s something I’d never do myself. But it isn’t like he hurt someone. He made a mistake—that’s it.
“Well, I guess I’ll have to take my chances then. Won’t I, Baseball Boy?”
That earns me a big grin, and a dimple pops out, making me want to curse because it’s so damn stereotypical. Everything about Cane Hale is. He’s literal perfection to look at.
I just can’t tell him that. It would for sure go to his head.
“Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” he drawls before opening the passenger door. “So, since we’re friends … does that mean we can go to dinner?”
Chewing my lip, I take a step toward him before climbing into the truck. “I guess it does. Only nothing fancy. Friends don’t do fancy.”
“All right, all right.” He laughs. “What about the new burger place?” He pauses, panic crossing his face. “Unless you can’t … can you have—”
“Yes, Hale.” I nod. “I’ve been there once, and they have lots of things I can eat.”
His face relaxes, and slowly, before he can close my door, I stop him.
“With this deal though … there can be no romance.” I say the words in a warning. “Well, like, between us, I mean. You can romance whoever you want. Just not me. I’m your friend—fake friend—who does not do romance or boyfriends.”
“Um, okay,” he says, eyeing me over. “You don’t date though? Like, ever?”
I lift a brow, smirking at his clear shock to learn that I don’t chase boys. “Hale, I’ve worked my ass off to make it to this point in my softball career. I’m not about to be distracted now.”
“Fair enough, Catch,” he murmurs before closing my door.
I may not be that keen on being his friend because at the end of the day, the last thing I need in my life right now is a distraction. But the fact that he asked if a burger joint was okay for me to eat at earns him major friend points. Even if I hate to admit it.