Chapter 4
FOUR
Wild
The roar of the stadium is a living thing. It’s thick, vibrating, crawling under my skin as I step onto the mound. Final inning. We’re up by three. A few minutes left on the clock. This is my moment.
I roll my shoulders, blocking everything else out. The crowd. The cameras. The pressure.
All of it fades until it’s just me, the ball, and the guy standing sixty feet away who thinks he has a chance.
If I strike him out, we don’t even need another at-bat. Game’s over. Win secured.
I grip the ball tight, the leather worn smooth and familiar against my palm. It fits there like it belongs, like it’s an extension of me. I glance down at Kamden crouched behind the plate, his focus razor sharp.
He flashes the sign.
Fastball.
I nod once.
There’s nothing more adrenaline-fueled than this. Every eye in the stadium is on you. Your team counting on you. Your coach trusting you to close it out. For most guys, that kind of pressure crushes them.
For me?
It’s power.
And I fucking love it.
I wind up and let it rip.
The ball slices through the air, fast and clean, cracking into Kamden’s glove before the batter even finishes his swing.
“Strike two!” the ump calls.
A grin tugs at my mouth.
Kamden fires the ball back to me, and I step into position again, heart pounding. Not with nerves, but anticipation. He signals this time, fingers twisting just enough for me to catch it.
Curveball.
I grin wider.
Yeah, buddy. That’s exactly what I was thinking.
I take a breath, lock eyes with the batter, and throw.
The pitch breaks hard at the last second, dropping just enough to make him chase. He swings. Misses. The sound of the bat cutting air instead of leather is pure music.
“Strike three!”
The stadium explodes.
Fuck yes.
Game over without us even needing to take another swing.
I pump my fist as Kamden rips his mask off, pointing at me with a shout before jogging out to meet me halfway. We collide in a rough slap and hug, adrenaline still surging through my veins.
That’s what I live for.
After the interviews, the handshakes, the forced smiles for cameras and fans, I finally make it back to the locker room. A hot shower washes away the sweat and the noise, leaving me loose and buzzing as I tug a clean shirt over my head.
Kamden’s leaning against my locker when I turn around.
“Great game,” he says.
“Thanks. You too, bro.”
He nods, then sighs, scrubbing a hand over his face. “My little sister. Fuck.”
I arch a brow. “What about her?”
“I’m so proud of her,” he admits. “But I never wanted her mixed up with the team I’m playing on.”
“Why?” I ask, genuinely curious.
He shrugs, eyes dropping to the floor. “I don’t know. I think because the locker room’s my safe place. Afraid that with her here, it’ll change that.”
I pull my shirt straight and grab my bag. “She seemed pretty fucking confident to me. Susan wants me to show her around, but Amelia said she wouldn’t do shit until she talked to you.”
I pause, then add, “I get it. This is our space. But you’ve talked about your sister for years. About how badass it was she wanted to be a sports psychologist. Maybe you should give her a chance before you get your panties in a wad.”
Kamden lets out a reluctant chuckle, shaking his head. “You’re an idiot.”
“True,” I say easily. “But I’m not just a pretty face.”
I close my locker just as a familiar voice cuts through the room.
“Kamden.”
We both turn.
Amelia stands a few feet away, posture straight, eyes steady, nerves hidden behind that calm professionalism she wears like armor.
“Well,” I say, backing a step away, “I’ll give you guys some privacy.”
I move off, but not too far.
Because if there’s one thing I know for sure, it’s that Bronwyn versus Bronwyn is a fight I don’t want to miss.
I lean back against the row of lockers across the room, pretending to scroll through my phone while keeping one eye on them. I give them space, mostly. But there’s no way I’m walking out completely. Not when Kamden looks like he’s about to either hug his sister or lose his damn mind.
Amelia steps closer to him, folding her arms, not defensive, more like she’s bracing herself.
“You look like you’re mad at me,” she says quietly.
Kamden exhales, dragging a hand down his face. “I’m not mad. I’m frustrated.”
“That feels worse,” she replies.
He huffs a short laugh. “Yeah. I know.”
I watch as he shifts his weight, shoulders tense in a way I’ve seen a thousand times. Kamden Bronwyn doesn’t get rattled easily. Hell, I trust him with my career every time I throw a pitch. But put his sister in front of him, and suddenly he’s a mess.
“I didn’t know you were going to be here,” he says finally. “If I had, I would’ve told you not to—”
Her chin lifts. “Not to what?”
“Not to put yourself in this position.”
She shakes her head, a soft scoff escaping her. “Kamden, I didn’t come here because of you.”
“I know,” he says quickly. “I know that. It’s just this team, this locker room it’s my safe place. It’s the one place where I don’t have to worry about you.”
Her expression softens. “You’ve worried about me my whole life.”
“Because it’s my job.”
“No,” she counters gently. “Because you’re my brother. But I don’t need protecting the way I did when I was sixteen.”
That lands.
Kamden looks at her, and something in his face shifts. Pride. Guilt. Maybe a little fear.
“I worked my ass off for this,” she continues. “I earned it. Susan didn’t pick me because of our last name. She picked me because I’m good at what I do.”
“I know you are,” he says, quieter now.
“And I won’t let anyone think I’m here because of you,” she adds. “Not the team. Not the staff. Not you.”
I bite back a grin.
Damn.
Kamden lets out a long breath, then nods slowly. “I just don’t want this place to chew you up.”
She steps forward, resting her hand on his arm. “You taught me how to stand my ground. Remember?”
He snorts. “Yeah. Might’ve overdone it.”
“Maybe,” she says, smiling. “But it worked.”
There’s a beat of silence before he finally pulls her into a hug, squeezing her tight. She hugs him back just as fiercely, and I feel something warm settle in my chest.
When they separate, Kamden looks steadier. Calmer.
“You good?” he asks.
She nods. “I will be.”
He glances in my direction, catching me watching. “You still here, Calloway?”
I lift my shoulders. “I was emotionally invested.”
Amelia laughs softly, the sound catching my attention more than it should.
Kamden shakes his head, but there’s a smile tugging at his mouth now. “Alright. You win. You can stay. But if anyone gives you shit—”
“I’ll handle it,” she says firmly.
I push off the lockers and step closer. “For what it’s worth,” I add, meeting her eyes, “you don’t look like someone who needs saving.”
Her gaze holds mine, steady and unflinching.
“Good,” she says. “Because I don’t.”
Fuck.