Unexpected Curveball (Diamond Warriors #1)

Chapter 1

ONE

Amelia

You go through the motions.

You study. You sacrifice. You graduate. You earn the degree everyone says is supposed to open doors.

But no one really prepares you for what comes after.

For the moment when the safety net disappears, and you’re standing on your own, expected to prove that all those late nights, all that pressure, actually meant something. For the moment when potential turns into responsibility.

What happens when you have to step into the real world and make yourself matter?

I groan as I toss another button-up blouse onto my bed, the fabric landing in a growing pile of discarded “almost right” choices. Too stiff. Too casual. Too much like I’m trying too hard. My reflection stares back at me from the mirror with my wide eyes, hopeful, and maybe just a little terrified.

Today I’m meeting with a sports psychologist that the head of the psychology department personally set up for me.

This is my big break.

My chance to prove I haven’t wasted all these years with my nose buried in textbooks and research journals. That I’m more than grades and theories. That I belong in this world, not because of who I know, but because of what I can do.

Excitement buzzes through me, sharp and electric, tangled with nerves that won’t quite settle. My stomach flips as I smooth my hands down the perfect blouse, trying to breathe through the moment.

Being a sports psychologist for a baseball team has been my dream for as long as I can remember. Ever since my big brother, Kamden, played baseball in high school.

He was stubborn. Proud. Convinced he could muscle his way through anything.

Until he got injured.

Part of his recovery required meeting with a sports psychologist, and I remember sitting quietly in the hallway one afternoon, waiting for him to finish. I watched the way he walked in tense and frustrated, and came out lighter. Focused. Changed.

I was fascinated by how easily the psychologist reached him. How someone finally got through to my hardheaded brother when no one else could.

That was the moment it clicked.

I didn’t just want to understand the game.

I wanted to understand the players.

Their fear. Their pressure. Their drive to be perfect in a world that demands nothing less.

And today feels like the first real step toward making that dream real.

I grab my bag, take one last look around my apartment to make sure I haven’t forgotten anything important, and head out the door.

The late-morning air is warm but crisp, the kind that makes the city feel alive instead of overwhelming.

My nerves settle a little with every step toward the small coffee shop on the corner.

The brick walls, big windows, and the comforting smell of roasted beans drift out onto the sidewalk.

Inside, it’s quiet but not empty. Low music hums through the speakers, and the espresso machine hisses like it’s in on my anxiety. I spot her immediately. Mid-forties, kind eyes, hair pulled back in a neat bun, already seated with a laptop open and a notebook beside her.

“Amelia?” she asks, standing as I approach.

“Yes. Hi, Dr. Keller,” I say, offering my hand and hoping my nerves don’t show.

“Please, call me Susan,” she says with an easy smile. “Grab whatever you’d like. This one’s on me.”

That helps. A lot.

We settle into a booth with our drinks, steam curling between us, and almost instantly, the tension drains from my shoulders.

The questions start simple. Why sports psychology, where I see myself in five years, and what kind of environment I thrive in.

And then they dig deeper. Case studies. Hypotheticals.

How I’d handle a player spiraling after a loss.

How I’d rebuild confidence after an injury.

And somehow, I don’t freeze.

I answer without second-guessing myself. My words come easily, flowing from years of studying, observing, and quietly dreaming about this exact moment. Susan nods, scribbles notes, and occasionally interrupts to ask me to expand on a point.

“Interesting,” she says at one point, looking up from her notebook. “Most interns struggle to balance empathy with accountability. You seem to understand that both are necessary.”

Heat spreads through my chest, the good kind. The earned kind.

By the time we finish our drinks, my confidence has grown by the minute, replacing the nerves that had been threatening to choke me all morning. I feel capable. Like maybe I really can do this.

Susan closes her laptop and smiles. “I’ve really enjoyed this, Amelia. More than I expected.”

My heart skips. “Me too.”

She hesitates, then tilts her head. “How would you feel about seeing the stadium? Maybe meeting a few of the players while we’re there?”

For a split second, I forget how to breathe.

“Yes,” I blurt out, excitement crashing through me in a wave so strong it makes me lightheaded. This is it. This is the door cracking open. The dream getting close enough to touch.

We walk out together, and when she gestures toward her car, my steps feel lighter. The city blurs past the window as we talk about the team culture, the expectations, the pressure that comes with professional sports. I’m nodding, absorbing every word, already imagining myself in that world.

Then she slows.

Turns.

Pulls into a familiar entrance.

The massive structure rises in front of us, steel and glass gleaming under the sun.

Rebels Stadium.

Home of the New York Rebels.

My excitement evaporates in an instant.

“Oh,” I whisper, my stomach dropping somewhere near my feet.

Susan glances over. “You okay?”

I shake my head slowly, dread curling tight around my ribs. Of course, it had to be this team. Of course, the only real opportunity, the one that matters, is tied directly to him.

To my big brother.

In a world where I’m trying to make a name for myself and carve out my own identity, the only way to get my foot in the door is to intern for the team my brother plays for.

And suddenly, all I can think about is how hard it’s going to be to prove that I’m here because I deserve it, not because of the last name I share.

I force a smile, even as my pulse pounds in my ears.

“Yeah,” I say, though terror twists through me. “I’m fine.”

I’m not.

But if this is the price of chasing my dream, I’ll pay it.

No matter how terrifying it feels to step into my brother’s world and risk everything to claim a place of my own.