Chapter 32
THIRTY-TWO
HARLEY
“Nothing like not having an early practice or class and still having to wake up at the ass crack of dawn,” Haven says, stuffing her hands into the front pocket of her NEU softball hoodie. “They better have good food.” She glances at Gigi. “What do you think? Pancakes? Maybe an omelet station?”
“Bacon would be cool,” I add, trying to make an effort to mentally be here because I know lately, I’ve sucked.
“I don’t really—” Gigi pauses. “I’m not really allowed to eat pancakes. Or regular bacon.”
“What other kind of bacon is there?” Haven deadpans.
I know she’s bluffing because I’ve seen her try turkey bacon before, but she hated it.
“Turkey bacon is the only bacon I have ever eaten,” Gigi says shyly. “My dad says the other stuff clogs arteries.”
“It’s worth it though,” Haven mutters. “But also, your dad isn’t here today, is he? So, if you want to shovel pancakes and bacon, live your life, girl.”
“Yes, queen.” I grin, lightly smacking Gigi’s arm.
“It’s okay to be disciplined and all, but it’s also okay to live sometimes.
I mean, I checked my levels before we left the house just so that I could carb load because I think it’ll help my emotional state.
” I shrug. “But like Haven said, your dad’s not here right now. Live a little.”
Suddenly, Gigi’s face pales slightly, and she swallows roughly.
“The thing is … he will be here,” she mumbles. “Because he’s the main donor for the locker rooms. At least, his company is.”
My feet stop moving, and Haven’s mouth hangs wide open.
“Your dad owns the shoe company BOOMA?” I say, almost squeaking.
She sighs, and right away, it’s obvious she didn’t want us to know.
“Yeah …” she mutters, looking down. “Please don’t tell anyone.”
“I mean, that’s—” Haven starts to say something, but I widen my eyes at her before cutting her off.
“We won’t,” I say sharply. “But also … how did you keep that a secret?”
“Coach knows,” she whispers as the three of us start walking toward the building again.
“But she promised not to tell. And today, my dad swore to me he’d stay cool and not blow it.
” Gigi reaches the door first and turns toward us.
“Please, please, please, don’t tell. I don’t want everyone thinking I’m here because of my dad. ”
“No one would think that,” I say instantly. “You work harder than anyone I know, Gigi. And you’re an incredible pitcher.”
“For real,” Haven says, smiling. “We won’t say anything, but just so you know, no matter who your dad is, you deserve to be here. NEU is lucky to have you pitching.”
Her eyes float between both of ours before finally, she flashes us a small smile.
“Thank you,” she says softly before pulling the door open.
Haven may give me one more can you believe it look, but I know neither of us will tell anyone because that’s not who we are.
The second the door is open and we walk into a room filled with softball and baseball players, my stomach drops. Because after avoiding Cane for a week, I’m suddenly not going to be able to avoid him now.
The first person I’m going to go see though is my coach. I owe her an apology. Actually, I owe my entire team one.
CANE
“Two more seasons, right?” Clyde Hues, the older man who comes from old money that he likes to spend on our program, asks me, taking a sip from his orange juice. “Tell me we’ve got your arm for two more seasons.”
“That’s the plan for now,” I say, half telling the truth.
The truth is, even though I’ve considered entering the MLB draft now that I’m a junior and I’m eligible, I don’t know if I actually want to play pro ball or not.
Part of me would love to go to the next level just to be able to play a little longer, but some part inside me wants something else.
I’ve talked to my coach about it a few times, but no one else really knows where my head is at.
Not to mention that the little dugout situation earlier this year smeared my name a bit.
He pats his large hand on my shoulder. “Best stay out of trouble, Mr. Hale. I think you’re one hell of a player, and that arm can take you far.
But, damn it, kid, don’t go off and get yourself into trouble again.
It makes the university look bad.” He raises his eyebrows.
“I dump a lot of money into this school and, more particularly, this program. I don’t want our star player to be making an idiot of himself. So, lie low, would ya?”
“Yes, sir,” I utter, nodding respectfully.
I knew it was coming because out of the three donors I’ve chatted with, it’s already come up twice now. No one likes a troublemaker, and even though Harland may have fixed my image on social media, these old fucks still think I’m a little shit with a chip on my shoulder, I’m sure.
Clyde goes on to talk about some of the weaker players on our team, and I tune him out because I don’t want to talk crap about my teammates.
And while he talks about shit he really doesn’t understand and a game he hardly grasps, my eyes float back to the corner of the room.
The one where Harland stands, talking to her coach in what looks like a deep conversation.
Her hair is slicked back into a low braid today and parted in the middle. She, along with the other softballers, wear their hair like this a lot. It makes them look pretty badass, I’ll admit.
She’s wearing black leggings and an NEU softball fleece, and even though she’s avoided me since we’ve been back on campus, this cafeteria isn’t all that big. She can’t elude me forever.
Clyde finishes talking, and I simply nod and shake his hand before smiling.
“It was great talking with you, Mr. Hues. Thanks again for all you do, and I hope to see you at the field this spring.”
Before he can say anything else, I see Tripp and my mom walk in. I release his hand and walk away because while I appreciate what all these donors do, some of them are absolute assholes.
Rich assholes, which are the worst kind.
Walking over to my mom and Tripp, I hold my hand out to my stepdad, and he shakes it before pulling me against him and slapping my back.
“There’s my dude,” he says, dropping my hand. “Sorry we’re late. Aviana forgot her homework at the house, so we had to turn around and go get it to drop it off to her.”
I hug my mom, and she smiles up at me. “Hey, babe. How are you?”
“I’m good,” I say, clearing my throat. “Since you guys are donors, can I just talk to you the rest of the time?” I chuckle, cringing. “Some of these people are assholes.”
“Oh, you met Clyde?” Tripp says, laughing. “I think he sucked as a kid, and if I had to guess, he got cut from the team and now uses his money to dictate the program.”
He glances at my mom, who’s shaking her head at him.
“Hey, it’s just an assumption, but … if the shoe fits.”
My mom swats at him but giggles before she cocks her head to the side.
“How is your friend Harland now that she’s back on campus?” she asks quietly, I’m sure not wanting to risk anyone else hearing.
My mom isn’t the type who harps on things in a way that’s overbearing. She likes to know what’s going on with her kids, but she also respects our boundaries. Her asking about Harland is strictly out of concern because as a mom whose kids lost their dad, she knows how hard it is.
“Well,” I say, glancing over in the corner of the room just as Harland hugs her coach, “I’m not really sure. We’ve both been busy, so I haven’t really talked to her much.”
When I look at my mom again, I can tell right away that she sees through me.
When I went back to Montana, I told her that Harland was just a friend, and even though she did what she always does and didn’t push for more, I’m sure she knows deep down that I’m not the type of guy who would skip practice to be with a girl unless she meant a lot to me.
So, right now, she probably knows that when I say we’re too busy to talk, what I really mean is … the girl is fucking ghosting me.
“Well, just remember to be there for her as best you can.” She nods. “Now off you go. You need to go thank donors and make everyone see you’re not a little asshole who ruins other teams’ dugouts on your Friday nights.” She waves me off. “Love ya!”
“That was harsh.” I frown, glancing at my stepdad. “She’s kind of mean.”
“I’m on her side,” Tripp says instantly, holding his hands up. “And she’s right. Go talk to some rich people. Maybe they’ll put money toward a new scoreboard.” He winks.
“True.” I chuckle, knowing that ours is getting a little ratty-looking.
Eventually, I saunter away, off to talk to more people—which is the last thing I want to be doing right now.
My mom calls something to me, but when I turn to glance back at her, I run into someone. When I go to apologize, my eyes lock with Harland’s, and once again, I’m wondering if the universe hates me or loves me. Because this could be good … or really bad.
“Sorry, Catch,” I drawl, running my hand up the back of my head. “Wasn’t paying attention to where I was walking, I guess.”
“It’s fine,” she mutters, not wanting to look at me at first.
Finally, she does, and the way her green eyes pop when she has her hair pulled back away from her face makes my heart skip a fucking beat.
“How have you been?” she asks, surprising me.
I think I expected she’d just rush away.
“I’ve been all right,” I say, nodding and keeping my hand on the back of my head. “You?”
“Yeah, I’ve been …” She bobs her head up and down, looking around the room. Then her eyes move back to mine, and she stills. “Not very good,” she mumbles. “Turns out, you were right.”
I know what she means without any explanation because I’ve been in her shoes. I was just younger, and maybe it was easier because I wasn’t living on a different side of the country from my mom, having to be an adult.
“I’m sorry.” What else can I say? There’s nothing that’s going to make it any better.
Her chest rises as she drags in a long breath. “Thanks.” She rubs her lips together. “Oh, also, my insurance is all set now. I’ll pay you back soon though. For, you know, this month’s costs.”
I start to reach for her hand, wanting to take it into mine while I tell her not to worry about it, but I stop, knowing that isn’t what she needs or wants right now. To be honest, the past week, I’ve felt guilty, feeling like maybe I took advantage of her during a confusing time in her life.
“We had a deal, Catch,” I murmur. “You helped me stop being so hated by everyone, and I paid for your prescriptions.” I narrow my eyes, just enough so that she knows I’m not playing around. “I don’t want your money.”
“Excuse me,” someone says from behind her, trying to pass through.
She’s left with no choice but to step closer to me, and as the person nudges up against her, squeezing through as everyone stands and talks, her body presses to mine, and instantly, my heart rate spikes.
Her green eyes stare up at mine as her pupils dilate. She could step back, but she doesn’t. At least not right away. Her body heats my own, but the second she moves away, I feel like fucking ice.
“S-sorry,” she murmurs, running a hand over her sleek hair.
“Don’t ever apologize for pressing your body close to mine, Catch.” I wink playfully.
I wait for her to blush, but instead, she looks away.
“Well, it was nice to see you,” she says, almost in a robotic tone. “I need to go thank a few people—per my coach’s orders.” Stepping backward, she almost runs into someone but stops. Holding a hand up, she waves. “See ya around.”
When she turns, walking away from me once again, a part of me wants to grab ahold of her, pull her close, and kiss her harder than I’ve ever kissed her before. I don’t want to give her space, but if she thinks that’s what she needs, what else am I supposed to do?
So, like an asshole, I watch her weave through the crowd. And even though she said she’s going to talk to people, she goes into the women’s restroom.
No doubt just to get away from me.