Bailey blinked at all of us, unfazed, then stuffed her fist into her mouth like the whole exchange had been beneath her notice.
I shook my head and smiled. There was something grounding about being back in this space—the familiar weight of routine, the cadence of Coach Ward’s voice, the low hum of my teammates shifting in their seats.
The offseason always felt too quiet—aside from the time spent with my family—which meant too much space with my own thoughts.
This felt like home clicking back into place.
“Hold up,” Ward said, just as a few guys started drifting toward the aisle. “Before you head out, the social-media team has a few quick announcements for you.”
Dani popped up from her seat immediately, grinning like she’d just been handed a live microphone at a wedding reception. She caught Ward’s eye as she stood, and something soft passed between them.
“Thank you, Coach,” she said brightly, then added without missing a beat, “Daddy.”
The room erupted.
“Oooooh,” voices teased from the back. A few of the guys made exaggerated kissing noises like we were back in the schoolyard.
Ward groaned, but there was no hiding the smile he tried to suppress. He bent over Dani and pressed his lips to the top of her head. “Not funny,” he grumbled.
She beamed. “We both know I’m hilarious.”
Clarke stood beside her, tablet in hand, her expression perfectly neutral but eyes sparkling with amusement. As Soren’s girlfriend—scratch that, hisfiancée—she was immune to our nonsense by association.
Ward straightened, the smile gone in a blink. He clapped once, sharp and loud. “That’s enough,” he announced.
The teasing ceased.
Dani cleared her throat, still smiling. “Boys, you’re all looking especially . . . tall.”
Clarke’s nails clicked at her tablet. “We’re here to talk about the charity calendar photoshoot. As y’all know, the team has partnered with the Rose City Dog Rescue and Pawsitive Vibes cat café for the first ever official Roasters calendar.”
A low murmur rolled through the room.
“Shirtlesscalendar,” Dani added. “With adoptable cats and dogs.”
That earned a few cheers.
“And before anyone asks, yes, you all volunteered.”
“I would’ve remembered that,” Pink said.
Dani’s smile turned lethal. “You signed the team agreement, Pinkalicious. Page twelve, paragraph three, asterisk at the bottom.”
He groaned. “Fucking asterisks.”
“Watch it,” Ward growled.
Bailey gurgled, blissfully unaware that her future college fund might be padded by shirtless baseball players holding puppies.
Clarke didn’t even look up as she kept tapping through her notes. “Demand for the calendar has been . . . substantial. Which is why, after two straight seasons of people asking loudly for more—”
“Veryloudly,” Dani echoed.
“—we’ve decided to give the fans what they want,” Clarke finished.
Wes buried his face in his hands. “Why does that sound like a threat?” he asked through his fingers. Our centerfielder wasn’t exactly a people person.
Soren crossed his arms. “How many photos are we talking?”
