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He walks in.

The apartment feels emptier than it ever has. The couch where she used to curl into me. The kitchen island where she’d sit swinging her legs while I cooked. Her laugh used to live in these walls.

Now it’s just quiet.

Kamden closes the door behind him.

“You look like shit,” he says.

I huff out a humorless laugh. “Feel worse.”

He studies me carefully.

“You’ve been out,” he notes, glancing at the empty whiskey glass on the counter.

“Doesn’t help,” I mutter.

Silence stretches between us.

Finally he says, “Coach told me you agreed to step back.”

I nod once.

“I thought that’s what you wanted.”

“I thought it was what would protect her.”

There’s no sarcasm in his tone.

Just honesty.

I walk to the kitchen and brace my hands on the counter, staring at the granite like it holds answers.

“I saw her face, Kamden,” I say quietly. “At the bar. When she looked at me like I’d just ripped her heart out.”

My voice cracks despite myself.

“She didn’t deserve that.”

“No,” he agrees softly.

I swallow hard.

“I’ve never loved anyone like that,” I admit. “Not even close. And I threw it away in one night because I thought I was doing the right thing.”

I turn to look at him.

“You know what the worst part is?” I ask.

He shakes his head.

“She believed in me,” I say. “Even when I don’t believe in myself. She saw me, Wilder, not Wild. Not the pitcher. Not the asshole at the bar. Just me.”

My chest tightens painfully.

“And I let them convince me I was poison to her future.”

Kamden’s expression shifts.