Chapter 2
TWO
Wild
The bar is loud, the kind of loud that rattles in your chest and makes everything else fade into background noise. Music thumps through the speakers, bass-heavy and unapologetic, and every time the door opens, a fresh wave of cold air and curious eyes sweeps in.
And yeah, those eyes land on me.
They always do.
“Jesus, Wild,” Kamden laughs, clapping a hand on my shoulder as another round of shots lands on the table. “You’d think they put your face on the damn menu the way everyone keeps staring.”
I smirk, lifting my glass. “Can’t help being memorable.”
“That’s one word for it,” Evan, our shortstop, adds. “Obnoxious is another.”
The girls pressed in around our table laugh, the sound light and flirtatious.
One brunette is practically in my lap, fingers tracing lazy circles on my thigh like she’s already claimed real estate.
Another leans over the table, her cleavage dangerously close to my drink, batting her lashes at me like I’m the last man standing.
They like the confidence.
They love the reputation.
They crave the thrill of being wanted by a Rebel.
By me.
“Shots!” someone yells.
I lift mine without hesitation. “To winning streaks and bad decisions.”
“Bad decisions,” Kamden echoes, grinning before we knock them back.
The burn hits hard and fast, but it’s familiar. Comforting, even. This is my element. The neon lights, alcohol, attention. The place where Wilder Calloway thrives just as much as he does on the mound.
A girl with red lipstick leans in close, her mouth brushing my ear. “You pitch tomorrow night, right?”
“Always,” I say easily. “Curveball’s been nasty lately.”
She bites her lip. “I like nasty.”
I chuckle, letting my hand rest at her hip just long enough to make her breath hitch. It’s effortless. Too easy. And part of me knows that’s exactly why I keep doing it.
Kamden shakes his head at me, amused. “You ever get tired of it?”
“Of what?” I ask.
He gestures vaguely to the girls, the crowd, the noise. “All of this.”
I scan the room. Fans pretending not to stare, phones subtly angled in my direction, strangers shouting my name like we’re old friends.
Nah.
“This?” I say. “This is the payoff. Long nights. Early mornings. Blood, sweat, busted knuckles. I earned every second of it.”
Kamden raises his beer. “Damn right you did.”
Someone calls out, “Wild! Over here!”
I turn, giving them a lazy salute. The cheer that follows is instant, loud, intoxicating. I feed off it, that surge of adrenaline buzzing just beneath my skin.
A blonde slides closer, pressing herself against my side. “You really love the game that much?” she asks.
I don’t even hesitate. “More than anything.”
And I mean it.
Baseball is the one thing that’s never let me down. Never walked away. Never demanded more than I could give. It’s simple that way. Honest.
The night blurs into laughter and clinking glasses, into bodies brushing mine and voices shouting my name. I flirt. I drink. I bask in the attention like it’s oxygen.
This is the Wild everyone knows.
The pitcher.
The golden boy.
The guy who never misses.
And I wouldn’t change a fucking thing.
The locker room smells like clean laundry, sweat, and a hint of whatever industrial-strength cleaner the staff swears by. It’s familiar. Comforting. The kind of place that feels like home in a way no apartment ever has.
I’m half-dressed, tugging my jersey over my head when Kamden drops onto the bench beside me with a groan.
“Remind me,” he mutters, rubbing his temples, “why I always forget about the game day the night before.”
I snort. “Because you drink like you’re still twenty and invincible.”
He shoots me a look. “Says the guy who was doing shots with two girls hanging off him like accessories.”
“They were enthusiastic fans,” I say, completely unapologetic.
Kamden laughs, shaking his head as he laces up his cleats. “You were in rare form last night, Wild.”
“I’m always in rare form.”
Guys start filing in around us, laughing, shoving each other, music already blasting from someone’s speaker. Evan tosses his bag down and points at me. “Yo, Calloway, you disappear with that redhead or what?”
I grin. “Trade secret.”
“Liar,” someone calls out from across the room.
The noise builds, voices overlapping, jokes flying, the easy rhythm of men who’ve bled and won and lost together. It reminds me how damn lucky I am. This team. This brotherhood. There’s nothing like it. No matter where we come from, what we leave behind, we’re solid in here.
This place grounds me.
Coach’s sharp whistle cuts through the chaos.
“Alright, listen up!”
The room quiets, guys turning toward him, some still smirking, others already locked in. I lean back, arms crossed, relaxed but attentive.
“We’ve got a big game tonight,” Coach says. “You know what’s at stake. Stay focused. Stay sharp.”
A few nods. Someone cracks their knuckles.
Then he adds, “We’ve also got a new intern psychologist starting today. I expect you to give her the same respect you give Susan.”
I lean toward Kamden and murmur, “Great. Just what we need. Another doctor trying to fix what’s not broken.”
Kamden huffs out a quiet laugh. “Don’t let Susan hear you say that.”
Before I can respond, the door opens.
Susan steps in first, all calm confidence and clipboard tucked under her arm.
And right behind her is the definition of sexy.
Tall. Slim. Dark hair pulled back, a few loose strands brushing her cheeks.
She’s dressed professional but not stiff, eyes scanning the room with a mix of nerves and determination.
I straighten without meaning to.
My lips twitch.
“Damn,” I mutter under my breath. “I need to get on her couch.”
Kamden opens his mouth, probably to tell me to shut up, but Coach keeps talking.
“Please welcome Amelia Bronwyn.”
The name hits like a fastball to the ribs.
I snap my head toward Kamden. “Bronwyn?”
He hasn’t moved. Hasn’t blinked. His jaw tightens as he stares at her, something unreadable flickering across his face.
“Yeah,” he says quietly. “My little sister.”
Fuck.
I look back at her, really look this time. The resemblance is there if you know what to look for. The eyes, the stubborn set of her shoulders. She smiles politely, hands clasped in front of her, completely unaware that my world just tilted on its axis.
The girl I was just mentally undressing?
Off-limits.
Untouchable.
Kamden’s sister.
And somehow, I already know this is going to be a problem.