Chapter 21
TWENTY-ONE
HARLEY
I stand in the shower, letting the hot water pelt over my body, hitting my skin with a pressure so high that it should hurt. Only it doesn’t. I’ve felt nothing the past twenty-four hours.
My mom went for a ride, saying she needed to go to the hospital to get some things of my dad’s. I think she just couldn’t stand to be here. Neither can I. She also didn’t want me to ride with her because when I told her I would, she said she was okay to drive herself.
And then there’s Cane. Who took it upon himself to order dinner in last night to make sure my mom and I ate.
He slept on the couch last night and made coffee this morning.
He also asked multiple times how my sugar levels were doing, knowing that keeping up with monitoring has been the last thing on my mind.
He’s everywhere, doing all the things, and I don’t understand why.
We aren’t even true friends, much less dating. So, why the hell would he sign himself up to be here right now?
I need to wash my hair, but I can’t. So, I simply stand here, under the water, hoping to wake up and escape this hell I’m in.
I stand here so long that, eventually, I get tired and sit down. Bringing my knees up, I rest my head against them and squeeze my eyes shut.
“Harley!” Cane’s deep voice yells outside the bathroom door, and still, my eyes stay shut. “Harley, you’ve been in there for over an hour! Are you okay?”
I’d like to call back out that I’m fine, but that would be a lie. Then again, I can’t seem to force my throat to come out with anything. I’m sure he thinks I’m in here, probably passed out from low sugar or something, but the truth is, I’m just … frozen.
The door opens, and still, I keep my eyes closed.
“Harley? I’m not trying to invade your space or make you uncomfortable, but, Jesus Christ, you’re scaring me,” he says, pausing. “If you don’t answer me, I’m pulling the curtain back to make sure you’re okay. All right?”
One of the most attractive men I have ever seen is about to see me naked because he thinks I’m either passed out or dead, and still, I can’t form a sentence to call out to tell him I’m fine.
Maybe, before yesterday, I would have been horrified if a man like Cane Hale saw me naked, but now?
I couldn’t care less. I realize now how minor that would be compared to what’s really happening in my life.
The curtain is pulled open, and I keep my forehead against my knees.
“Catch,” he rasps, and suddenly, his hand touches my cheek, pushing my hair away from my face. “Open your eyes, Catch. Just need to know you’re okay.”
It takes me a few seconds, and when my eyes do crack open, I’m reminded that I’m still here, in this shower, and that my dad is dead.
Everything hurts, and I squeeze them shut again.
Cane’s hand stays on my cheek for a moment before I hear him shift around.
His hand moves, and right away, I miss his touch, but it’s quickly replaced by both of his hands as he works what I can only assume to be shampoo into my hair.
“If this isn’t okay, just tell me,” he whispers, his hands gently working through my strands. “All right?”
I don’t nod or say anything back because truthfully, I don’t have the energy to. But I also don’t tell him to stop, even though I probably should.
He lets the water run down my hair, and he massages my scalp quietly before he works conditioner in.
He must have seen my comb hanging on the wall of the shower because soon, my hair is being combed out.
This is the type of shit you see in the movies, but in a time like this, it’s not romantic.
He’s just taking care of me—which I’ve realized is something he does for everyone, though I can’t figure out why.
Once the conditioner is rinsed out, he removes his hands, and the water shuts off. But before the air has a chance to cool me off, there’s a towel draped around my body and a pair of strong arms lifting me out of the tub.
My eyes crack open just as he carries me out of the bathroom and into my room. Ever so gently, he sets me down on the edge of my bed. He continues to dry my body off, and though I’m naked, he isn’t touching me in a romantic way. No, right now, he’s just being a caretaker.
Moving to my hair, he dries it the best he can before draping the towel around my body again. I know I’m exposed and bare. But it doesn’t feel forbidden, even though no man has ever seen me naked.
Cane walks over to my dresser, opening a few drawers before he finds what he’s looking for.
I could tell him where everything is, but my voice won’t work.
I feel like Ariel in The Little Mermaid, when Ursula took her voice in exchange for a pair of legs.
Right now, I think Ariel was insane for wanting to be up here, joining this madness.
When he returns before me, my eyes find his, and I stare up at him.
“It’s Sunday,” he whispers. “Aren’t you due to change your Omnipod today?”
With every bit of energy I have, I nod. It’s only once, and it’s weak, but it’s enough; before I know it, he’s walking out of the room, and when he returns not even a minute later, he has my supply bag in hand before he kneels down before me.
“I’ve seen you change it once, and last night, I watched a few videos on how to change it just in case you needed me to today.” His head dips forward, and he looks up into my eyes. “Do you want me to, Harland? Or do you want to wait for your mom?”
Part of me wonders if maybe I’m dreaming because if this is real life, why is the baseball star of NEU, who is also stupidly attractive, kneeling before me, offering to change out my Omnipod? It isn’t as if we’ve known each other forever. So, why would he be this kind?
Then I remember that he also took the fall for something he didn’t do just so that his teammates wouldn’t get into trouble. Saving people? That seems to be his thing.
“You can,” I utter. “If you want to.”
“Where do you want it?” he whispers, swallowing.
Normally, my abdomen isn’t somewhere I like to put it because I’ve had to dive for balls before, even as a catcher, to make a tag out.
So, I have to strategically place it where it’s less likely to be ripped out.
But I don’t plan on leaving my mom this week, so my stomach makes the most sense, I suppose.
Pushing the towel off my body, I point to a spot on my abdomen before my instincts finally kick in and I wrap my arms around my chest to cover my breasts.
Cane tries his best to stay calm, but I can feel the nerves radiating off him, worried he’ll mess this up.
Step by step, he talks his way through it, and I’m not sure if it’s to make sure with me that he’s not messing up or for himself just to ensure he doesn’t miss a step. Either way, it’s obvious that when he watched the videos or saw me do it myself, he was paying attention.
“How much goes in here?” he asks, holding the vile and the syringe.
“One hundred units,” I whisper, watching him draw up the liquid to the mark, checking numerous times that it’s correct before flicking it a few times to get any air bubbles out.
Pushing the medication into the small area in the device that holds it, he brings it to my abdomen, pressing it to my skin. “Okay, here’s the hardware.” He doesn’t press it into my skin to secure it just yet. “So, this one gives you the insulin when needed, right?”
“Yeah. The Omnipod gives the medication; the Dexcom monitors everything. I don’t have to change that one for a few more days.”
He swallows sharply before pushing down on the device to secure it against me and sending the wire into my skin.
Even though he did it, I can sense that he didn’t enjoy it because I’m sure he thinks it hurts.
And typically, at least for a split second, it does.
But today? Today, I feel absolutely nothing.
In fact, if I didn’t hear the sound of it being pushed in, I wouldn’t even know.
And I sit here like a zombie while he finishes up. Once he’s done, he pulls the towel over me again before getting rid of all the waste.
He probably covered me up because he couldn’t stand to look at me.
Cane has been with a lot of women—at least, that’s the word around campus. And I’m sure they were all gorgeous and seductive. Me? I’m a twenty-year-old virgin whose first time being naked in front of a man was while he had to shower me because I was too screwed up to do it myself.
When he reaches for the shirt, my hand catches his before he can bring it over my head. He stares at me, his eyes dancing between mine, like he’s trying to figure out what the hell I’m doing.
“Cane,” I whisper, my lip quivering.
His brows pull together subtly. “Yeah, Catch?”
“I can’t feel anything,” I croak, a lone tear rolling down my cheek. “Make me feel something.”
I don’t even understand what I’m saying right now; all I know is, I can’t take it back. It’s like I’m out of my body, watching myself from across the room. Everything is numb, and I guess somewhere inside … I must need Cane to be closer to me.
“Harland,” he utters, sliding a hand to my cheek. “That’s not why I’m in here, helping you, I promise. You don’t need to—we don’t need to do anything.”
Throwing the towel off like a madwoman, I reach for his shirt, balling it in my fist and pulling his face to mine. I’ve barely kissed someone, so I don’t know what I’m doing, but the second our lips meet, I seem to figure it out.
He’s reluctant at first, but soon, he kisses back.
It’s not eager, the way my mouth is moving.
Instead, it’s slower, and he slides his hand into my wet hair.
He’s keeping it sweet when I need more. I need to do something that I’ve never done because maybe that’ll fix me.
Maybe it will make me come out of this fog.
Losing my virginity will take away from the fact that my dad is dead. I need Cane to be the guy I know he is inside and kiss me like he means it.
“Please, Cane,” I whimper against his mouth. My nipples strain against the fabric of his shirt, and before I know it, my legs are spreading wide. “Take the pain away.” I sniffle. “Be my first. I need … I need this.” I blurt the words out of my mouth before I can stop them.
When his body freezes, I know with everything I am that I said too much.
“You’re a virgin, Harland?” he murmurs against my lips, his eyes closed.
Shame starts to flood my veins, but it quickly stops because right now, I don’t care about being ashamed. I just need a distraction.
“So what if I am?” I croak. “What does it matter to you?”
“It matters a lot,” he says, his voice pained. “It matters so fucking much.”
Backing up slightly, he kneels down again but keeps a palm on my cheek. “You just lost your dad, Harley. You aren’t thinking straight.”
“And I don’t want to either,” I growl, frustrated. “Because every time I do, I remember he’s dead.” Big, fat tears spill from my eyes. “Please, Cane. It doesn’t have to mean anything. It won’t mean anything. I just need this. I really need this.”
Though I ache for his touch, pain shoots through my chest. A reminder that my pain is still here, even though I’m doing what I can to mask it.
Reaching forward, I slide my hand under the fabric of his shirt. My palm skates upward against his rigid abdomen.
“Don’t make me beg you, Cane,” I rasp. “Please.”
CANE
Hard is staring into your dream girl’s eyes while she begs for you to take the pain away, but what she’s asking you to do, you know you can’t.
Even if you’ve thought about it countless times.
Even if you’ve stroked your cock to images of it.
And even if your dick pulsates when you’re just looking at her.
I am not going to fuck Harland Meadows right now. I can’t.
Even if she hadn’t dropped the bomb that she was a virgin, I would have told her no because she made me promise that this wouldn’t turn romantic because that wasn’t what she wanted.
But add in the virginity part and the fact that her father died yesterday?
She isn’t in her right mind right now. And if I did anything sexual with her, I’d feel like I was taking advantage.
Not to mention she’d regret it. I know she would.
“Harley,” I whisper, my own vision blurring with tears because I know how much pain she must be in, “I can’t do that with you. Not right after your dad died.”
“Why not?” she snaps, keeping her voice low. “You’ve slept with everyone else on campus. Am I not pretty enough for you? Do you only fuck girls who look like supermodels?” she says angerly, trying to stand up.
“Stop,” I say, moving my hands to her wrists and keeping her there. “You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, Harland. And in any other circumstances—”
“So, all you needed me for was to save your reputation?”
Hate spews with every word that spills from her pretty lips, but I know it’s the grief talking, and I’ll need to keep reminding myself of that each time she speaks because it’ll get worse, I’m sure.
“You have a rich daddy, so buying my meds in return for me to save your stupid social media presence was an easy choice, huh?”
“Catch—”
“Don’t,” she says through gritted teeth. “Don’t call me that.”
“Harland,” I whisper, trying to plead with her. “I promise you, I’m telling you no because I care.”
“Fuck you,” she snarls, and despite the weeks I’ve gotten to know her, I don’t know the person who is sitting in front of me right now. “I need you to leave. Go. Get out of my house.”
“I don’t want to le—”
“NOW!” she roars, the veins in her neck popping out.
I hear the sound of a car door closing, and I know her mom has made it back home. The last thing I want to do is leave Harley, but with the way she’s breathing and the fury on her face while she’s glaring at me right now, I know I don’t have a choice. I need to leave her—at least for a few days.
Leaning forward, I press my lips to her forehead. She fights it, thrashing in my arms, and I’m not surprised by her strength, given how good of a catcher she is.
“I will be back, Harland. I promise.” I kiss her forehead once more. “It’s okay that you hate me right now. Because if hating me makes this easier for you, hate away. But don’t hate me forever, all right?”
She’s silent for a moment, and her chest heaves.
“Leave,” she mutters.
And even though I don’t want to do it, even though I wish I could stay right here …
I leave. Because it’s not about what I want right now. It’s about what she needs.
And in this moment … I may not be it.