Proud.
Last pitch.
Kamden changes the sign.
Fastball.
Low.
I nod once.
Everything slows.
This is it.
I step forward.
Release.
The crack of the glove is thunder.
The batter swings wildly and misses.
Strike three.
For half a second, there’s silence.
Then the stadium detonates.
We did it.
Diamond League Champions.
Kamden jumps up, ripping off his mask, charging the mound. He crashes into me, laughing like a maniac.
“You did it, brother!” he yells.
“No,” I shout back over the noise. “We did!”
The team piles on. Helmets. Gloves. Chaos.
And through it all, I look for her.
They finally break away enough for me to see her coming down the steps toward the field, security parting because everyone knows her now.
She steps onto the grass like she belongs there.
Because she does.
I jog toward her, breath still heavy, adrenaline roaring.
She reaches me, and I pull her into my arms without hesitation.
“You did it,” she whispers against my chest.
“We did it,” I correct her.
The cameras are everywhere.
