Page 47 of Convincing the Catcher

TWENTY-TWO

HARLEY

“This is good for us,” my mom says, walking beside me down the sidewalk of our road. “It’s not too cold out today. And the fresh air … it’s nice.”

It’s been five days since Dad died, and I haven’t worked out, thrown a ball, or anything in that time. For me, that’s unheard of. But I can’t get myself to do anything besides lie in bed or on the couch.

I have over a hundred unread texts and thirty missed calls. My friends are worried, my teammates are concerned, but I don’t have it in me to care.

My father’s funeral is in two days, and after that, I’m supposed to return to NEU. My coach insisted I take the week off, but I know after this week, she’ll expect me to pull it together and come back.

Right now, I don’t want to.

I walk in silence, feeling guilty that my mom was the one to pull us both together enough to get out of bed this morning, and yet I still can’t get myself out of this funk.

“Look at that,” my mom whispers, coming to a stop and nodding toward one of our neighbor’s backyards. “Reminds me of you. It’s freezing out, but there that little girl is, throwing on her rebounder.”

The little girl, Charlie, catches the softball in her glove before she sees us. A grin spreads from ear to ear, and her eyes light up.

“Harley!” she calls out. “Will you throw with me?”

Anytime I’m home, that kid has come to the door and asked me to throw the ball with her. And each time, I say yes without pause. Right now though? I don’t want to throw the ball with her.

I don’t want to throw the ball with anyone.

“Um, my arm is a little sore,” I lie. “Maybe later.”

Turning quickly away from her, I continue walking, and of course, my mom is right on my heels before, finally, she’s beside me.

“Slow down,” she says, trying to fight the aggravation that I’m sure wants to lace her voice. “Baby, just slow down.”

Her hand grabs my wrist, and we both stop. Slowly and shyly, I turn to face her.

“I’m going to say something, and it’s all right if you don’t want to hear it, but I’m your mom, and I’m going to say it anyway.”

I don’t say anything, but she knows I’m listening. She knows me well enough to know that when she speaks, I’ll always listen.

“You lost your dad,” she whispers, sniffling. “And I know how much he meant to you. He was your best friend, your idol. He was truly the apple of your eye, just like you were his.” She swallows thickly, wiping a tear away. “And it’s okay to be sad. If you weren’t sad, I’d be worried. I’m sad too.” She sobs, unable to stop herself. “I’m so, so sad.” Inhaling, she stands a little straighter. “So, be sad, but, baby … you can’t stay like this forever.” Her fingers touch my chin, and she tilts my head up. “The world needs your Harland sparkle.” A low sob slips from her throat. “I need your sparkle.”

I know what she’s saying, and I want to be able to give her what she’s asking of me because she lost her husband and she shouldn’t have to lose me too. But right now, I just feel so … empty.

Wiping my eyes with the arm of my fleece jacket, I bob my head up and down. “I’ll try, Mom,” I rasp. “I’ll really try.”

I mean it too. I will try. I’ll try because she deserves that from me. But it’s not going to be easy, especially when, right now, I’ve never felt more not like myself. And part of me is terrified that the sparkle she’s talking about … well, I’m afraid it’s gone. It sort of feels like it went away when my dad took his last breath.

Throwing a ball is something I’d do every single night while growing up, usually with my dad. And even as an adult, it’s something that brings me comfort. It’s soothing.

And yet … now I can barely stand the thought of even touching a softball.

I’m broken. And I’m scared I can’t be put back together.

CANE

I mix my protein shake and pour it into my usual cup. The same one I use every damn day because as much as I hate to admit it, I’m a creature of habit.

Hendrix and Isla sit at the table, working on what I’m assuming is homework—except they keep tee-heeing and smiling at each other. It’s annoying as fuck, being around people this giddy when I’ve been in a miserable mood since leaving Montana. Normally, I’d be over-the-moon happy for Isla because she’s one of the best humans I know, and despite Hunt being a little rough around the edges, I think he really does love her and will treat her well.

Plus, her dad, Cam Hardy, apparently finally approved of them being together. And if he passed Cam Hardy’s you can date my daughter checklist, he’s got to be a good dude.