Chapter 10
TEN
Wild
The stadium is still buzzing when we hit the tunnel. Music blasting, guys shouting over each other, adrenaline hanging thick in the air. Another win. Another reason to celebrate. Gloves get tossed, backs slapped, someone’s already talking about shots and VIP booths like it’s a foregone conclusion.
It should feel enough.
It usually does.
But all I can think about is Amelia.
She’s been lodged in my head since the night I walked out of her apartment, since the feel of her presence lingered long after her door shut behind me. There’s so much more to her than what she lets the world see. Layers she keeps locked down tight, just like I do.
She knows what it’s like to want to be seen as yourself instead of a name, a role, a reputation.
That alone makes her dangerous.
I’ve never wanted to kiss someone the way I want to kiss her. Not sloppy. Not rushed. Slow. Intentional. Like it would mean something.
I went home that night wired and restless, the memory of her voice, her eyes, the way the air shifted between us following me into the shower.
I didn’t picture anyone else. Didn’t need to.
Just her. Just the idea of what I wasn’t allowed to have, but wanted so badly.
I jerked off picturing her as the water pounded down on me.
Her body, her sounds, her taste made the fantasy all that much hotter.
And that scared the hell out of me.
“Yo,” Kamden says, clapping a hand on my shoulder as we peel off our jerseys. “You ready to hit the bar tonight?”
For half a second, I swear he can see straight through me. Straight through the thoughts I shouldn’t be having about his sister.
I lock it all down.
The grin.
The swagger.
The mask.
“Damn right,” I say, easy and confident.
The guys cheer, already moving toward the showers.
But even as I laugh and play my part, one truth settles deep in my chest.
No matter how loud the night gets, Amelia Bronwyn is still the only thing I won’t be able to forget.
The bar is chaos.
Music blaring. Glasses clinking. Guys shouting over each other like we didn’t just spend the last few hours shoulder-to-shoulder already. A win does that. It turns adrenaline into noise, turns teammates into brothers who forget everything else exists.
I should be in the middle of it.
Instead, I’m at the bar with Kamden, elbows planted, beers sweating between our hands. He’s relaxed in that post-game way. His cap turned backward, shoulders loose, eyes scanning the room out of habit more than interest.
“You pitched your ass off tonight,” he says, bumping my shoulder with his own. “Hell of a finish.”
“Couldn’t have done it without you calling the game,” I reply. And I mean it. Kamden and I have that thing. An unspoken rhythm, trust built over years of reading each other without words.
He takes a pull of his beer, then glances at me sideways. “You good?”
There it is.
Not, how's the game?
Not, what’s the plan tonight?
The real question.
I shrug, defaulting to easy. “Yeah. I’m good.”
He snorts. “Bullshit.”
I smirk, because he knows me too well. “I’m breathing. That’s something.”
He studies me for a second longer than necessary, then nods slowly. “You still doing sessions with Susan?”
“Yeah,” I say quickly. Too quickly.
I don’t add that most of those sessions aren’t with Susan anymore.
I tell myself it’s because I don’t want Kamden worrying about his sister. That I’m protecting her. Protecting him.
But I know better.
The truth is uglier.
I’m afraid if I say Amelia’s name out loud, he’ll see every dirty thought, every inappropriate want written all over my face. Afraid Kamden Bronwyn, the man who trusts me with his career, will somehow see straight into my head and realize I’m already standing on a line I shouldn’t even be near.
“Good,” he says. “I’m glad you’re talking to someone.”
He tips his bottle toward me, then adds casually, “Amelia likes it there. The internship.”
My grip tightens just a fraction around my beer.
“That so?” I keep my tone light. Neutral.
“Yeah,” he says, a small smile tugging at his mouth. “She’s killing it. Always does.”
There’s pride there. Thick and unmistakable.
“She seems confident,” I say carefully.
Kamden exhales, gaze drifting to the crowd. “She is. Strong as hell. Smarter than anyone gives her credit for.”
“But?” I ask.
He chuckles under his breath. “But I still worry.”
“Why?” I ask, genuinely.
He doesn’t answer right away. Just stares into his beer like it might talk back.
“It’s not my story to tell, brother,” he finally says.
The words hit harder than I expect.
My mind spins instantly, filling in blanks it has no right filling. I think about the way Amelia keeps herself locked down. The way she’s calm in the face of things that should shake her. The way she said being seen excites her.
I nod slowly. “Fair enough.”
Kamden glances at me then, eyes sharp. “I trust you, Wild.”
Something tightens in my chest.
“Yeah,” I say. “You can.”
He clinks his bottle against mine. “Just look out for her, okay?”
I force a grin, the mask sliding back into place like muscle memory. “Always.”
We sit there a while longer, talking about stupid shit. The old games, inside jokes, stories from road trips that still make us laugh. This is us. Best friends. Teammates. Brothers in everything but blood.
And as the noise swells around us, one thought won’t leave me alone. If Kamden ever finds out what I feel for Amelia, this easy moment right here is what I stand to lose.
And that scares me more than anything else ever has.
The apartment is quiet when I get home. Too quiet.
I drop my keys on the counter and kick my shoes off, the buzz from the bar already fading, leaving everything else sharper. Louder. The night should’ve been a blur of laughing, flirting, bodies pressed close.
Instead, I spent it turning women down.
Every smile. Every hand on my arm. Every whispered invitation.
Not tonight.
That alone should’ve told me how deep I’m in.
This isn’t who I am. I didn’t earn the nickname Wild by being restrained. I earned it by leaning into temptation, by never hesitating, by taking what was offered and never looking back.
Kamden noticed.
“Who the hell are you and what have you done with Wild?” he joked at one point, nudging me as another woman walked away disappointed.
I laughed it off. Let him think it was grief. Let him think my dad’s death dulled the edge.
But that’s not it.
I wish it was.
I’d love to drown this out. To fuck it away, drink it numb, bury it under noise and skin and sweat. But it’s more than that.
It’s her.
My fucking thoughts are consumed by a woman I shouldn’t be thinking about at all. A woman I shouldn’t want. A woman whose name shouldn’t hit me low in the gut every time it crosses my mind.
Amelia.
She’s a line I shouldn’t even be standing near, let alone inching closer to. I need to be stronger than this. Smarter than this.
Because if I’m not?
My friendship with Kamden could be destroyed. Years of trust gone in a heartbeat.
And her career? Jesus. One wrong move, one rumor, one mistake and she’s the one who pays the price.
I don’t want to be that guy.
I don’t want to be the reason chaos and pain rip through something good.
I drag a hand down my face, pacing the length of my living room as the thoughts stack up, heavy and relentless.
And then my phone buzzes.
I freeze.
Amelia: When do you want to spread the ashes?
Fuck.
My pulse spikes instantly, and my dick doesn’t seem to give a shit about logic or consequences. I stare at the screen, knowing exactly what I should do.
Tell her forget it.
Tell her I changed my mind.
Tell her this is a bad idea.
My thumbs don’t listen.
Me: Tomorrow night. I’ll pick you up at midnight.
Her reply comes almost immediately.
Amelia: I’ll be waiting.
Fuck.
I drop the phone onto the couch, chest tight, heat coiled low and dangerous.
So will I, Doc.
So will I.