Chapter 18
EIGHTEEN
Wild
The room is dark except for the faint glow of streetlight filtering through the curtains.
She’s curled into me, her head resting against my bare chest, one leg thrown lazily over mine. Her fingers trace slow, absentminded patterns along my stomach, and I swear I’ve never known a peace like this.
Post-sex bliss isn’t just physical.
It’s emotional.
It’s the quiet breathing. The steady rhythm of her heart against mine. The way she fits like she was meant to be here.
My fingers slide into her hair, combing through it gently.
“I’ve been thinking about everything you said this morning,” I murmur into the dark. “Especially about you being scared.”
My chest tightens just saying it.
Because I promised her she’d never need to be scared with me.
“I need to fix that.”
Her fingers keep moving, slow and lazy. “You can’t fix it, Wilder. It’s sweet though.”
“No,” I say firmly. “I can.”
She shifts slightly, propping herself up on one elbow to look at me, but I keep going.
“I’m going to talk to Kamden. To Susan. To Coach Carson.” I swallow. “I’m going to tell them we’re in love. And if they need to transfer me to a different team, I’ll pack my shit.”
She bolts upright so fast it’s like I burned her.
“What? No! Are you insane?”
I lace my hands behind my head and shrug. “Probably a little. But that’s beside the point.”
She’s staring at me like I just suggested setting the stadium on fire.
“The only way to fix your fears is to face them,” I continue. “We’ve been hiding and sneaking around for too long. This relationship shouldn’t feel like a dirty secret. It should be out in the open for everyone to see.”
She scrambles off the bed, grabbing my shirt from the floor and pulling it over her head. The fabric hangs off her shoulder, and I can’t help but think she’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.
She starts pacing.
“Wilder, this will end my career,” she says, shaking her head. “It will destroy my relationship with my brother. I’ll be known as the woman who fucked up Wild Calloway’s career. No. No way.”
I sit up, leaning back against the headboard, watching her spiral.
“So what’s your plan, Amelia?” I ask. “You want to keep our relationship hidden forever? You want to have some secret wedding one day and a baby that surprises everyone when they didn’t even know you were with someone?”
Her head snaps toward me.
“That’s not fair.”
“Isn’t it?” I shoot back. “Because that’s what this becomes if we never say anything. A secret life.”
I swing my legs over the side of the bed, slide on my boxers, and stand, closing the distance between us.
“I don’t care about the headlines,” I say quietly. “I don’t care about what the league thinks. I care about you feeling like loving me is something shameful.”
Her eyes glisten.
“It’s not shameful,” she whispers.
“Then why are we treating it like it is?”
The room falls silent except for our breathing.
“I’m not afraid of losing baseball,” I add. “I’m afraid of losing you because we were too scared to fight.”
She looks at me like I’ve just handed her something heavy.
And I realize this isn’t about courage.
It’s about timing.
But I’ll be damned if I let her think she’s in this alone.
“We’ll face it together,” I tell her, my voice steady even though my heart is pounding. “There should be no consequences for two people falling in love.”
She looks at me like she wants to believe that.
“I wish that were true,” she whispers.
The fear in her voice doesn’t make me doubt us.
It makes me want to protect her even more.
I guide her gently back to the bed, pulling her down beside me. This time we sit facing each other, knees touching, the tension between us different now. Less heat, more weight.
“Okay,” I say, running a hand through my hair. “Let’s think this through.”
She draws her legs up, wrapping her arms around them, like she’s bracing herself.
“We tell Kamden first,” I continue. “Together. I’ll invite him over for dinner. We sit him down. We tell him we’re together. That we’re serious.”
Her fingers start twisting together in her lap.
“And after that?” she asks.
“After he knows,” I say, “we talk to Coach Carson. And Susan. Together. We tell them we didn’t plan it. That it happened. That we’re in love.”
She swallows hard at that word, but she doesn’t look away.
Her hands are wringing now, over and over, like she’s trying to squeeze the fear out of them.
I reach over and still them, threading my fingers through hers.
“This anxiety you feel?” I say gently. “It’ll disappear the minute everyone knows.”
She gives me a look that’s half disbelief, half hope.
I chuckle softly.
“Sorry,” I say. “I think I’m sounding more like you right now.”
That earns the faintest smile.
“You’re the optimistic one,” she says quietly.
“No,” I correct her. “I’m just done hiding.”
I lift her hands to my lips and kiss her knuckles.
“You deserve to be loved out loud,” I tell her. “Not in shadows. Not between sneaking out doors.”
Her eyes shine again, but this time it’s not just fear.
It’s something softer.
“What if he hates us?” she asks.
“Then he hates me,” I say simply. “He might punch me first, but he won’t hate you.”
She exhales, leaning forward until her forehead rests against mine.
“I don’t want to lose my brother,” she murmurs.
“You won’t,” I promise. “We’re not doing anything wrong. We didn’t manipulate anything. We fell in love.”
The word doesn’t feel reckless anymore.
It feels earned.
“We tell him tomorrow?” she asks.
I nod. “Tomorrow.”
Her grip tightens on my hands, and I can feel the storm still swirling inside her, but there’s resolve there now too.
This won’t be easy.
But nothing worth keeping ever is.
And if standing up for her means risking a fight, a transfer, or a headline, I’ll take it.
Because I’m not losing her to fear.
Bottom of the ninth.
We’re down by one.
The stadium is alive. Loud, electric, the kind of pressure that makes most guys tighten up. The San Antonio Stars have a runner on second, two outs, and everything hangs on this next pitch.
I stand on the mound, ball tucked into my glove, dirt beneath my cleats grounding me.
This is the moment.
I lift my eyes.
And there she is.
Front and center behind home plate.
Amelia.
My girl.
She’s not wearing team colors tonight, just jeans and a soft jacket, but I’d spot her in a blackout. Her eyes are locked on me, steady, unwavering.
My pulse kicks up.
But instead of rattling me, it steadies me.
She’s the calm in my storm.
I glance at Kamden. He crouches behind the plate, focused, giving me the sign. Fastball low and inside.
I nod once.
Tonight I’m telling him.
After this game, after the showers and the noise, I’m going to look my best friend in the eye and tell him I’m in love with his sister.
I should be nervous.
I’m not.
It’s been hell keeping this from him. The distance between us the last few weeks hasn’t been subtle. He’s noticed. I’ve noticed. We’ve both pretended not to.
I’m done pretending.
The only way to fix it is to stop lying.
I settle into my stance, wind up, and let the ball rip from my hand.
The pitch cuts clean through the air.
The batter swings.
Misses.
Strike three.
The crack of the catcher’s glove is like a gunshot.
The crowd erupts.
“WILD! WILD! WILD!”
The chant rolls through the stadium, powerful and intoxicating, but tonight it feels different.
Because when I look up again, I’m not looking at the scoreboard.
I’m looking at her.
And when she smiles at me—wide, proud, eyes shining—it hits deeper than any crowd ever could.
I grin, adrenaline surging as I jog toward the dugout, teammates slapping my back, helmets clattering, noise everywhere.
But beneath it all, there’s something else building inside me.
Resolve.
Tonight, I stop hiding.
Tonight, I tell Kamden the truth.
“Nice call, brother,” I say, slapping Kamden hard on the back as we jog toward the dugout.
“Killer pitch,” he replies, grinning like we didn’t just turn the entire stadium upside down.
I nod, grabbing a water bottle and twisting the cap off. My pulse is still racing, adrenaline burning hot through my veins.
“Come over tonight,” I say casually. “Celebrate with some food and drinks.”
He doesn’t hesitate. “Hell yeah. Wouldn’t miss it.”
We watch the rest of the inning play out, our bats coming alive. Two quick runs. Final out. Win by two.
The stadium explodes again.
We do the rounds. Interviews, cameras shoved in my face, fans screaming my name. “Wild! Wild!” It’s loud. Powerful. Addictive.
But none of it hits like the sight of her.
Amelia stands near the railing, front row, smiling in a way that makes everything else fade out. She looks proud. Happy.
Like mine.
The guys start heading down the tunnel, but I don’t follow.
Instead, I veer toward the stands.
Her eyes widen the second she realizes what I’m doing.
I don’t care.
I climb the steps and stop right in front of her. She giggles, nervous, excited.
“What are you doing?” she whispers.
“I saw my girl,” I murmur, stepping closer. “And I couldn’t wait to taste her.”
I kiss her.
Not tentative. Not careful.
Possessive.
She melts into me instantly, her hands gripping my jersey, and I feel everything. The electricity, the heat, the way my body reacts without asking permission.
For a second, the world disappears.
Then—
“What the fuck!”
Her body jerks away from mine faster than a fastball.
I turn.
Kamden stands on the field, staring at us.
Rage written all over his face.
“Fuck,” I mutter under my breath, keeping my eyes locked on him.
“Kamden,” Amelia says, her voice shaking.
“Shut up, Amelia,” he snaps. “Wilder, what the fuck!”
Anger flashes through me instantly.
No one tells her to shut up. Not even him.
He charges up the steps and onto the platform, closing the distance fast.
“Kamden, stop!” Amelia yells.
“It’s okay,” I murmur to her quietly, stepping slightly in front of her.
His fist lands before I can say anything else.
Hard.
Right at the corner of my mouth.
My head snaps to the side. The taste of blood hits instantly.
“You son of a bitch!” he roars.
I straighten slowly, touching the split in my lip, eyes never leaving his.
“You tell Amelia to shut up again,” I say evenly, my voice low and dangerous, “and you’ll get a hell of a lot more than my fist.”
My lip burns. My jaw aches. But none of that compares to the look in Kamden’s eyes.
Betrayal.
Not just anger.
Betrayal.
“You’re dead to me,” he spits, stepping closer like he’s ready to swing again.
“Kamden, stop!” Amelia cries behind me.
“Shut up!” he snaps again without even looking at her. “You don’t get to say a damn word right now.”
That’s it.
I shove him back hard enough that he stumbles a step.
“You don’t talk to her like that,” I growl.
“You don’t get to tell me how to talk to my sister!” he roars, shoving me back just as hard. “You were supposed to be my brother!”
“I am your brother,” I fire back. “Which is exactly why I wasn’t going to sneak around forever.”
He laughs harshly. “Oh, you weren’t going to sneak around forever? How noble of you.”
Amelia moves between us, hands shaking. “Please. Both of you. Stop.”
Kamden’s eyes shift to her, and the hurt on his face morphs into something sharper.
“How long?” he demands.
She swallows. “A few weeks.”
“A few weeks?” He looks back at me like I personally stabbed him. “So every time we were sitting in that locker room. Every time you were telling me you were ‘fine.’ Every time you were acting distant. You were screwing my sister?”
“Kamden!” Amelia gasps.
I step forward, jaw tight. “Watch your mouth.”
He ignores me.
“You know what he does, Amelia?” Kamden’s voice rises. “You know how many girls I’ve watched him walk through like they meant nothing?”
That one lands.
I see it hit her.
“He’s Wild for a reason,” Kamden continues, voice venomous. “You think you’re special? You think you’re going to be the one that changes him?”
“Enough,” I warn.
“You’ve always had a savior complex,” he throws at her. “Always thinking you can fix broken things.”
Her face goes pale.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” she says, but her voice wavers.
“I know exactly what I’m talking about!” he shouts. “You almost got yourself hurt once chasing a baseball player. Now you’re doing it again?”
That does it.
I grab his jersey, shoving him back against the railing.
“You bring that up again,” I say through clenched teeth, “and I swear to God—”
“What?” he challenges. “You’ll hit me?”
“No,” I say, my voice low and lethal. “I’ll stop calling you my brother.”
The words hang heavy between us.
Amelia’s breathing is uneven now. I can feel it without even looking at her.
“You think this is a game?” Kamden says to me, eyes blazing. “You think this is some locker room hookup?”
“I love her,” I say, not yelling. Not defensive. Just clear.
Silence crashes down.
Even the distant stadium noise feels muted.
Kamden’s expression shifts for just a second.
Then hardens again.
“Bullshit.”
“It’s not,” Amelia whispers.
He looks at her like he doesn’t recognize her.
“You were supposed to be smarter than this,” he says, and somehow that hurts her more than anything else.
I see it in the way her shoulders cave slightly.
“You don’t get to talk down to her,” I say, stepping beside her instead of in front of her this time. “She didn’t fall into anything. We both did.”
Kamden shakes his head slowly.
“So what? You’re just going to parade this around? You think Coach is going to be cool with it? The league? You think this doesn’t blow back on her?”
“I already told her I’d request a transfer if that’s what it takes,” I shoot back.
That makes him blink.
“You’d leave?” he asks.
“For her?” I don’t hesitate. “Yes.”
Amelia turns her head sharply toward me, but I don’t look at her.
I look at him.
“You think I’d risk my career for someone I don’t love?” I continue. “You think I’d take your punch and not swing back if this wasn’t real?”
His breathing slows slightly, anger still simmering but less explosive.
“She’s not another girl,” I say quietly. “And I’m not the same guy I was before her.”
Kamden looks between us, jaw working, eyes wet but furious.
“You should’ve told me,” he says finally.
“I know,” I reply.
And that’s the truth.
Amelia steps forward carefully.
“I didn’t tell you because I was scared,” she says. “Not because I don’t trust you. Because I didn’t know how you’d react.”
He laughs hollowly. “Well, now you do.”
The air between the three of us is thick with years of friendship, family, loyalty, all colliding at once.
“I need space,” Kamden says finally, backing away. “From both of you.”
He points at me. “You stay the hell away from her until I figure this out.”
My temper flares again.
“She’s not your property.”
“She’s my sister!”
“And she’s her own person,” I snap.
Amelia grabs my arm, grounding me.
“Stop,” she whispers.
Kamden looks at her one last time, hurt bleeding through the anger.
“You better not let him break you,” he says quietly.
Then he turns and walks away.
The stadium lights feel colder now.
I turn to Amelia slowly.
“You okay?” I ask.
Her eyes are glassy but steady.
“No,” she says honestly.
I slide my hand into hers.
“Neither am I,” I admit.
But I don’t let go.