I answer without second-guessing myself. My words come easily, flowing from years of studying, observing, and quietly dreaming about this exact moment. Susan nods, scribbles notes, and occasionally interrupts to ask me to expand on a point.
“Interesting,” she says at one point, looking up from her notebook. “Most interns struggle to balance empathy with accountability. You seem to understand that both are necessary.”
Heat spreads through my chest, the good kind. The earned kind.
By the time we finish our drinks, my confidence has grown by the minute, replacing the nerves that had been threatening to choke me all morning. I feel capable. Like maybe I really can do this.
Susan closes her laptop and smiles. “I’ve really enjoyed this, Amelia. More than I expected.”
My heart skips. “Me too.”
She hesitates, then tilts her head. “How would you feel about seeing the stadium? Maybe meeting a few of the players while we’re there?”
For a split second, I forget how to breathe.
“Yes,” I blurt out, excitement crashing through me in a wave so strong it makes me lightheaded. This is it. This is the door cracking open. The dream getting close enough to touch.
We walk out together, and when she gestures toward her car, my steps feel lighter. The city blurs past the window as we talk about the team culture, the expectations, the pressure that comes with professional sports. I’m nodding, absorbing every word, already imagining myself in that world.
Then she slows.
Turns.
Pulls into a familiar entrance.
The massive structure rises in front of us, steel and glass gleaming under the sun.
Rebels Stadium.
Home of the New York Rebels.
My excitement evaporates in an instant.
“Oh,” I whisper, my stomach dropping somewhere near my feet.
Susan glances over. “You okay?”
I shake my head slowly, dread curling tight around my ribs. Of course, it had to be this team. Of course, the only real opportunity, the one that matters, is tied directly to him.
To my big brother.
In a world where I’m trying to make a name for myself and carve out my own identity, the only way to get my foot in the door is to intern for the team my brother plays for.
And suddenly, all I can think about is how hard it’s going to be to prove that I’m here because I deserve it, not because of the last name I share.
I force a smile, even as my pulse pounds in my ears.
“Yeah,” I say, though terror twists through me. “I’m fine.”
I’m not.
But if this is the price of chasing my dream, I’ll pay it.
No matter how terrifying it feels to step into my brother’s world and risk everything to claim a place of my own.
TWO
Wild
