Chapter 3
THREE
Amelia
My heart is beating so fast, I’m sure everyone in this room can hear it.
It thunders in my ears, loud enough to drown out the hum of voices and the scrape of cleats against concrete.
I stand there beside Susan, hands clasped so tightly in front of me.
My fingers ache, trying to look calm. Professional. Like I belong.
Kamden is staring at me like I just keyed his coach’s car and blamed him for it.
His jaw is locked, his eyes sharp, and I recognize that look immediately. It’s the same one he used to give me when we were kids, and I’d snuck into his room without permission. Equal parts protective and pissed.
My gaze slides away from him, sweeping the locker room.
Big mistake.
Whispers ripple through the space like a wave. Heads tilt. Brows lift. A few guys shake their heads, not even trying to be subtle about it. I don’t need to hear the words to know exactly what they’re thinking.
She’s only here because of him.
Bronwyn, of course, she is.
Must be nice.
My chest tightens, the earlier excitement collapsing into something heavier, something that sinks straight to my stomach.
I worked for this.
I earned this.
But none of them know that.
“Wilder, come here,” Susan says calmly.
Shit.
I know that name.
I don’t know him, not really, but I know of him. I know he and my brother are tight. I know he’s the team’s golden boy, the pitcher everyone chants for. I know his reputation makes him just as popular off the field as he is on it.
And when he steps forward, every ounce of that reputation suddenly makes sense.
He’s tall. Broad. Tattoos creeping out from beneath his sleeves. Confidence rolling off him. His eyes flick to Susan, then briefly to me.
Heat flares low in my stomach before panic smothers it.
Coach’s voice booms through the tension. “Alright, everyone, out on the diamond!”
Movement erupts around us. Players grab gloves and helmets, filing out in a rush of noise and purpose. Kamden jumps over the bench toward me, his face set with intent, but he’s stopped short when Coach Carson steps directly into his path, hand pressed flat against my brother’s chest.
“I didn’t know,” he says firmly. “Or I would’ve told you.”
“Coach,” Kamden says, his voice tight, dangerous, “I respect the fuck outta you, but I need you to move.”
Susan steps in before Coach Carson can respond, placing a calming hand on Wilder’s shoulder as she angles herself toward my brother. “What’s the problem?”
Kamden lets out a humorless laugh. “The problem, Susan, is that you have my little sister standing in my locker room.”
Every eye snaps to me.
Susan looks over her shoulder, surprise flashing across her face, before she turns back to Kamden. “I had no idea.”
“The last name didn’t give it away?” Wilder says, his voice low as he crosses his massive, tattooed arms.
Damn.
Susan doesn’t flinch. “No, it didn’t. I don’t focus on last names when a young woman with this much drive, intelligence, and determination is talking to me.”
Her words wrap around me like armor.
She glances around the room, unbothered by the tension. “I’m sorry, but I want to work with Amelia. I haven’t found an intern like her in far too long.”
Kamden scoffs. “Well, no shit. My sister is the smartest person I know. Clearly smarter than you.”
“Enough,” Coach Carson snaps.
The room freezes.
“We have a game to get ready for, and I don’t need this shit,” he continues. “If Susan wants your sister here, she stays. If you have a problem with that, you can have a nice long session with Susan.” His gaze hardens as he looks at Kamden. “Now get your ass outside.”
Silence stretches for a beat.
Then Kamden exhales sharply, shaking his head before finally turning away. As he walks out, he glances back at me, his expression softening just a fraction.
I swallow hard, my throat tight.
I don’t know how this is going to work.
I don’t know how I’m going to prove myself in a room that already doubts me.
But as Susan gives my arm a reassuring squeeze, it becomes painfully clear that this just got a lot more complicated.
Susan exhales slowly, clearly trying to adjust the moment, then turns slightly so she’s facing both of us.
“Amelia,” she says gently, “this is Wilder Calloway. Our star pitcher, and, until about thirty seconds ago, the poor guy I was about to volunteer to give you the full stadium tour.”
Up close, he’s worse.
Broader. Taller. The kind of presence that makes the room feel smaller without him even trying. His eyes flick to mine, curious now, assessing, like he’s trying to figure out which box to put me in.
Intern.
Kamden’s sister.
Problem.
“Wilder,” Susan continues, “I initially called you up because I wanted you to give Amelia a tour of everything, but considering your friendship with Kamden…” She hesitates. “Maybe I’ll just do it myself.”
“No.”
The word is out of my mouth before I can overthink it. My pulse stutters, but I straighten my spine anyway, forcing my voice to stay steady.
“I’m a professional,” I say, meeting her eyes first, then his. “My brother has nothing to do with this. I’ll talk with him later, but I won’t allow him or anyone to stand in the way of how this is going to work.”
Silence stretches.
Then Wilder’s mouth curves into a slow, surprised grin that softens his face for just a moment, like I caught him off guard.
“Well damn,” he says. “Just as badass as your brother.”
Heat creeps up my neck, but I refuse to look away.
Susan studies me for another second, then nods. “Are you sure?”
Hell no.
“Absolutely,” I say anyway.
“Alright,” she exhales. “Wilder, I know you need to get out there, but if you two could quickly pick a time and place, I’ll let you get to it.”
His gaze drops, slow and deliberate, running from my face down my torso and back up again. The attention sparks something dangerous low in my stomach, completely unwelcome and entirely inappropriate.
“I’m free after the game,” he says. “I’ll meet you outside the locker room.”
I nod quickly. “I look forward to it.”
I don’t.
Not one bit.
“Actually,” I add, the words tumbling out before my nerves can stop them, “I’ll need to speak with Kamden after the game. Can we do it after that?”
His grin returns, smaller this time, paired with a quick lift of his chin. “Whatever works for you, doc.”
Doc.
Susan reaches into her pocket. “I’ll give her your number—”
“Yeah,” he cuts in smoothly. “Do that. Text me when you’re ready.”
I don’t even have time to respond.
He grabs his glove, turns, and walks away with long strides, confident, every muscle moving with easy purpose.
And I absolutely do not watch his ass for a second too long.
Shit.
I press my lips together, dragging in a slow breath as Susan glances at me, amusement flickering in her eyes.
“This,” she says lightly, “is going to be interesting.”
I swallow.
Interesting isn’t the word I’d use.
Complicated.
Terrifying.
And suddenly, far more personal than I ever intended.