For a moment, the world holds still.
The stadium feels different now. It’s quiet, reverent, like it’s holding its breath with us.
Wilder doesn’t take me back the way we came. Instead, he leads me through a narrow corridor tucked behind the dugout, then up a short flight of stairs most people would never notice. A door creaks open, and suddenly we’re standing in a small, glass-fronted room that overlooks the field from an angle few ever see.
“This,” he says softly, “is my place.”
It’s simple. A couple of chairs. Old photos taped to the wall. A view of the diamond that makes my chest tighten.
“Not many people know about it,” he adds. “I come here when I need to think. Or not think.”
I turn to him. He’s watching me, not the field. Me.
“I can’t stop thinking about you,” he says, the words raw, unpolished. “I’ve tried.”
I shake my head slightly, grounding myself. “Wilder.”
He nods once. “I know, but I don’t think it’s possible to stop.”
I draw in a slow breath. “You feel connected because I help you talk. Because I help you feel. That happens. It’s normal.”
He lets out a quiet laugh, the sound edged with disbelief. “I’ve never wanted to push Susan against a wall and kiss her breathless.”
My heart kicks hard against my ribs.
His eyes lock with mine as he takes a step closer. Then another. The space between us disappears, charged and humming, every nerve ending awake.
“Tell me to stop,” he whispers.
I want to. I need to. Every rule I’ve ever learned is screaming at me.
But the words won’t come.
His mouth crashes into mine.
The kiss is everything. It’s deep, urgent, consuming. Not careful. Not restrained. His hands grip me tight like he’s afraid I’ll vanish, and I cling to him just as fiercely, lost in the intensity of it. It’s exciting and terrifying and achingly real.
When he pulls back, his breath is ragged. He shakes his head once, like he’s trying to regain control.
“You should’ve stopped me, Doc,” he says quietly. “Because now I’m going to want more.”
My heart is pounding so hard I’m afraid he can hear it.
The echo of his words,I’m going to want more, reverberates through me, tangling with everything I know I should do and everything my body is screaming for me not to.
I step back, just enough to breathe.
Just enough to think.
“This is a terrible idea,” I say, forcing the words out even as my hands curl into fists at my sides. “We can’t do this.”
His jaw tightens, but he doesn’t interrupt.
“If things were different,” I continue, my voice shaking despite my effort to steady it, “maybe this could be something. But they’re not. I’m an intern, Wilder. I’m here to prove myself. To build a career.” I swallow. “And you’re Kamden’s best friend for fuck’s sake.”
The words hurt coming out of my mouth, but they’re true.
“You think I don’t know all that?” he fires back quietly. “You think I haven’t told myself over and over what a horrible idea this is?” His eyes burn into mine. “I can’t stop it, Amelia. I can’t help how I feel about you.”
