Chapter 40
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 …”
Giving him one last warning glare, I turn my attention to Harland as she waits for the first pitch to come in.
The first pitch comes, but she doesn’t swing—likely intentional. Either way, it’s a strike, though she doesn’t seem bothered in the least. She stands there, ready to absolutely crush the ball. She’s not nervous or worried. Or if she is, I definitely can’t tell.
And I know her. I know her well.
The next pitch is called a high ball, and Harland steps out of the batter’s box, taking a few practice swings before stepping back up to the plate.
“This is going to be the one,” I mutter. “I can feel it.”
Not long after, the entire stadium erupts into cheers. The sound of the bat smashing the ball could almost echo because it’s such a good hit, and I’m too busy watching her drop her bat and run to even notice where the ball went.
“It went over the fence,” Bradley says, almost in disbelief. “Dude, your girlfriend just hit it over the fucking fence!”
“And that’s a home run!” a voice yells over the speaker, but after that, the stadium is too damn loud to hear what he says next.
Harland doesn’t have to hurry, but she still does, running like she could get out. When she rounds third, heading toward home, she holds her arms out to her sides, sprinting until she crosses home plate.
What a fucking machine my girl is.
And if I wasn’t surrounded by my teammates, I’d be very concerned that my dick would be pitching a tent right now too.
Because how does it get sexier than that? Harland Meadows is a fucking queen. And I love it.
HARLEY
I head out of the dugout after Coach talked to the team, and my grin must spread from ear to ear when I see Cane wearing an NEU softball jersey. As if he knows why I’m smiling, he turns around, showing off the back.
“And, no, Meadows. I’m not showing off my hot ass,” he calls out before spinning around to face me. “I’m just your number one fanboy, babe.”
I take in the most adorable sight, knowing I have the sweetest boyfriend here, hands down. I mean, I don’t see any other player’s man wearing an NEU softball jersey with her name on the back, so … I win the boyfriend department, for sure.
“That’s pretty cute, you know,” I coo, dropping my hand from my bag and taking a few steps toward him.
“Oh, yeah? Is it?”
“That you’re wearing my number?” I say, finally reaching him and looking up. “Yes. I think my heart might have just melted a little bit.” I poke his chest. “Now I’m a gooey marshmallow, like you.” I cock my head to the side, looking him over. “I think it may actually look better on you.”
“I don’t think so, Catch.” He grips my chin lightly with one hand while the other rolls the fabric of my jersey between his fingers. “I think yours would look better on the floorboard of my truck though.”
“Oh, yeah?” I lift a brow and run my hand over his stomach, instantly feeling his rock-hard abdomen through the cloth. “And what about yours? Will it stay on?”
“What do you think, pretty girl?” He smirks wickedly.
I bite down on my lip before I bring my mouth to his ear. “You mean … do I think you should wear my number on your back while I ride your dick?” I smile when his breath hitches. “Yeah, I think that would be pretty hot.”
He stares at me, eyes widening a fraction. “My girl is so fucking naughty,” he murmurs. He brings his mouth to mine and kisses me. “I love it.”
Being with Cane brings out a side in me that I never even knew existed. Maybe it’s because he ignited it, or perhaps it’s just easy for me to be this forward and flirty when he makes me feel so comfortable.
Or it’s probably both.
“Ready to get out of here?” he asks as he pulls back and gazes down at me.
“Yeah.” I grin up at him. “Oh, by the way, I heard you won your game, and I also heard you were amazing, as always.”
“Yeah, but I didn’t hit a home run.” He winks. “Good job, babe.”
“Thanks.” I pat his stomach once more. “Maybe it was having you here, wearing this shirt.” I raise my brows. “By the way, if any of the bitches here didn’t know you were mine, they certainly do now.”
“Trust me, they knew.” He chuckles, pulling me against him and squeezing me. “Let’s go. Now all I can think about is you riding my dick, and it’s making me hard.”
My gaze drops down to his pants, and within seconds, he’s grabbing my catcher’s bag and leading us toward the truck.
We walk hand in hand away from the field and into the parking lot. I look at my Baseball Boy with his hat on, his hair poking out at the back with his sunglasses on the visor, and warmth spreads across my entire body.
I’m not mad that I spent twenty years scared of distractions and keeping my head down.
To me, that’s exactly what I needed to do to get to the place I am.
With Cane, he understands that softball is and will always be a big part of my life.
He never asks me to skip practices or workouts because he knows the hard work it took for me to get here.
We get each other. In so many ways. And because of that, I truly can’t be angry that I spent all these years waiting for him. Because he was so, so worth it.