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It’s not fixed.

Not even close.

But it’s not destroyed either.

And for now that’s enough.

Because Kamden finding out is just the beginning.

I barely sleep.

Every time I close my eyes, I see Kamden’s fist hitting Wilder’s face. I hear the crack in his voice when he said You were supposed to be smarter than this. I replay the way Wilder stood there, bleeding and unflinching, defending me.

And then there’s the silence.

No call.

No text.

Not even a simple Are you okay?

That silence is louder than the stadium ever was.

By the time I pull into the players’ parking lot, my stomach is in knots. I sit in my car longer than I should, staring at the stadium like it might swallow me whole.

This place used to feel exciting.

Now it feels like a battlefield.

I finally step out, smoothing down my blazer, forcing my shoulders back. I am a professional. I worked too hard to crumble now.

The hallways feel different. Conversations hush when I pass. Or maybe I’m imagining it. Paranoia has a way of filling in blanks.

I step into Susan’s office, and she’s already there.

She looks up slowly.

“Amelia,” she says carefully.

My pulse spikes.

“We need to talk.”

Of course we do.

I close the door behind me, forcing my hands not to shake.

“Is this about last night?” I ask, keeping my voice steady.

Susan folds her hands on her desk. “Coach Carson told me there was an incident in the stands.”

My chest tightens.

“There was a misunderstanding,” I say quickly.

Her eyes narrow slightly. “Between Kamden and Wilder.”

I don’t answer.