“Enough,” Dani said cheerfully. “You’ll each be scheduled for a two-hour shoot. We’ll talk about exact dates later, but plan for late-April or early-May.”
Matty raised his hand tentatively. “Do we have to be shirtless?”
Dani turned toward him, eyes lighting up like she’d been waiting for that one. “Matty. Think of Mo.”
The room watched the internal battle play out on Matty’s freckled face for exactly two seconds.
“Fine,” he muttered. “For Mo.”
Pink clapped him on the shoulder.
Roman grinned. “I just want to say that if you need me to pose fully nude, I’m more than willing to do it.
“While I appreciate that, Roman, I don’t think it’ll be necessary,” Dani answered. “And just so everyone knows—”
She paused for effect.
“—the first preorder batch has already sold out.”
I blinked. “But we haven’t even shot it yet.”
Clarke shrugged. “People have faith.”
“In your hot bods,” Dani added with a wink. “Just one more reason to get your asses to the gym.”
Soren laughed, shaking his head as he pushed up from his chair. “You heard the woman. Weight room. Five minutes.”
Chairs scraped back in unison as the guys gathered their belongings. Roman started talking trash about bench numbers before anyone had even stood up all the way.
Soren clapped once, sharp and authoritative. “Move it, children.”
As the herd started funneling toward the hallway that led to the weight room, a small tap to my shoulder had me spinning around.
“Don’t go anywhere just yet,” Dani said. “I need you and Matty for another minute or two.”
I arched a brow. “Are we in trouble?”
She rolled her eyes and nudged me to the side, next to my teammate. She waited until the last of the stragglers cleared out before continuing.
“The board finally approved the Junior Roasters mental health initiative.”
My shoulders straightened before I could stop them, the dull post-meeting fatigue burning off like someone had flipped a switch.
The Junior Roasters was more than just a youth baseball program. For a lot of kids, most of whom lived in low-income neighborhoods across Oregon and Washington, it was an escape—an opportunity to build skills and friendships.
Sadly, one of those kids, a high-school freshman from two towns over, hadn’t made it through last season. He’d hung himself just before his fifteenth birthday.
His death had rippled through the organization in a way that stats and standings never could, hitting families, teammates, and coaches alike. Since then, Dani had been relentless, pushing to make mental health and wellness resources an integral part of the program instead of an afterthought.
“That means we finally have the means to expand our involvement with the Junior Roasters—clinics, mentorship, check-ins. You two previously expressed interest in volunteering, so I wanted to make sure that nothing had changed.”
I shifted, the familiar mix of pride and vulnerability settling in my chest. “What exactly would that look like?”
“Volunteering regularly,” Dani said. “On off days, of course. Showing up, talking to the kids. Being visible examples of what it looks like to take care of your mind as well as your body.”
Matty nodded slowly. “I’m in.”
I didn’t hesitate. “Me too.”
