This is the moment.
I lift my eyes.
And there she is.
Front and center behind home plate.
Amelia.
My girl.
She’s not wearing team colors tonight, just jeans and a soft jacket, but I’d spot her in a blackout. Her eyes are locked on me, steady, unwavering.
My pulse kicks up.
But instead of rattling me, it steadies me.
She’s the calm in my storm.
I glance at Kamden. He crouches behind the plate, focused, giving me the sign. Fastball low and inside.
I nod once.
Tonight I’m telling him.
After this game, after the showers and the noise, I’m going to look my best friend in the eye and tell him I’m in love with his sister.
I should be nervous.
I’m not.
It’s been hell keeping this from him. The distance between us the last few weeks hasn’t been subtle. He’s noticed. I’ve noticed. We’ve both pretended not to.
I’m done pretending.
The only way to fix it is to stop lying.
I settle into my stance, wind up, and let the ball rip from my hand.
The pitch cuts clean through the air.
The batter swings.
Misses.
Strike three.
The crack of the catcher’s glove is like a gunshot.
The crowd erupts.
“WILD! WILD! WILD!”
The chant rolls through the stadium, powerful and intoxicating, but tonight it feels different.
Because when I look up again, I’m not looking at the scoreboard.
I’m looking at her.
