Kamden fires the ball back to me, and I step into position again, heart pounding. Not with nerves, but anticipation. He signals this time, fingers twisting just enough for me to catch it.
Curveball.
I grin wider.
Yeah, buddy. That’s exactly what I was thinking.
I take a breath, lock eyes with the batter, and throw.
The pitch breaks hard at the last second, dropping just enough to make him chase. He swings. Misses. The sound of the bat cutting air instead of leather is pure music.
“Strike three!”
The stadium explodes.
Fuck yes.
Game over without us even needing to take another swing.
I pump my fist as Kamden rips his mask off, pointing at me with a shout before jogging out to meet me halfway. We collide in a rough slap and hug, adrenaline still surging through my veins.
That’s what I live for.
After the interviews, the handshakes, the forced smiles for cameras and fans, I finally make it back to the locker room. A hot shower washes away the sweat and the noise, leaving me loose and buzzing as I tug a clean shirt over my head.
Kamden’s leaning against my locker when I turn around.
“Great game,” he says.
“Thanks. You too, bro.”
He nods, then sighs, scrubbing a hand over his face. “My little sister. Fuck.”
I arch a brow. “What about her?”
“I’m so proud of her,” he admits. “But I never wanted her mixed up with the team I’m playing on.”
“Why?” I ask, genuinely curious.
He shrugs, eyes dropping to the floor. “I don’t know. I think because the locker room’s my safe place. Afraid that with her here, it’ll change that.”
I pull my shirt straight and grab my bag. “She seemed pretty fucking confident to me. Susan wants me to show her around, but Amelia said she wouldn’t do shit until she talked to you.”
I pause, then add, “I get it. This is our space. But you’ve talked about your sister for years. About how badass it was she wanted to be a sports psychologist. Maybe you should give her a chance before you get your panties in a wad.”
Kamden lets out a reluctant chuckle, shaking his head. “You’re an idiot.”
“True,” I say easily. “But I’m not just a pretty face.”
I close my locker just as a familiar voice cuts through the room.
“Kamden.”
We both turn.
Amelia stands a few feet away, posture straight, eyes steady, nerves hidden behind that calm professionalism she wears like armor.
“Well,” I say, backing a step away, “I’ll give you guys some privacy.”
