It’s not fixed.
Not even close.
But it’s not destroyed either.
And for now that’s enough.
Because Kamden finding out is just the beginning.
I barely sleep.
Every time I close my eyes, I see Kamden’s fist hitting Wilder’s face. I hear the crack in his voice when he said You were supposed to be smarter than this. I replay the way Wilder stood there, bleeding and unflinching, defending me.
And then there’s the silence.
No call.
No text.
Not even a simple Are you okay?
That silence is louder than the stadium ever was.
By the time I pull into the players’ parking lot, my stomach is in knots. I sit in my car longer than I should, staring at the stadium like it might swallow me whole.
This place used to feel exciting.
Now it feels like a battlefield.
I finally step out, smoothing down my blazer, forcing my shoulders back. I am a professional. I worked too hard to crumble now.
The hallways feel different. Conversations hush when I pass. Or maybe I’m imagining it. Paranoia has a way of filling in blanks.
I step into Susan’s office, and she’s already there.
She looks up slowly.
“Amelia,” she says carefully.
My pulse spikes.
“We need to talk.”
Of course we do.
I close the door behind me, forcing my hands not to shake.
“Is this about last night?” I ask, keeping my voice steady.
Susan folds her hands on her desk. “Coach Carson told me there was an incident in the stands.”
My chest tightens.
“There was a misunderstanding,” I say quickly.
Her eyes narrow slightly. “Between Kamden and Wilder.”
I don’t answer.
