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Sam jerks up, pushing her hip away from where it was resting on the counter. “Oh, um, maybe? Or maybe not,” she says, avoiding eye contact. She rubs her right thumb over the tattoo on her left wrist.

Tossing the towel on the counter, I repeatedly poke Sam in the arm until she looks at me. My raised eyebrows are enough of a question.

“There’s something I need to tell you,” Sam says, and the uncertain tone in her voice has my emotions swinging from one extreme to the other.

“Am I going to be leaving this conversation ready to go beat someone up? Because you’re going to need to cancel the interview if that’s the case,” I say.

“No, no, put away the protective older brother zeal,” she replies with a very Sam-like roll of her eyes. She tucks her hair behind her ear, finally giving me full eye contact. “I’m quitting.”

“Huh?”

“After this baseball season is over, I’m resigning as your personal assistant. I thought I should give you a little bit of a heads up in case you need to make other plans,” Sam says, standing up straighter.

“Okaaay,” I begin. “You’re allowed to quit. Butwhyare you quitting? Are you not happy with the job anymore? Is this because of Danae? Because even though things are moving forward with Danae, I still want you around, sis.”

“It’s not that. I’ve really appreciated the space you gave me to leave the nest without crashing and burning on my own. And I have truly loved helping you with all the little things you can’t do for yourself,” she says, her signature smirk returning.

“Hey, now,” I retort, giving her a mild shove. “I’m perfectly capable of doing all the stuff you do.”

She raises an eyebrow.

I huff. “I didn’t say Iwantto do all that stuff, but Icoulddo it if I needed to.”

“Just admit you’d be lost without me,” she says.

“How am I supposed to admit that when you just resigned?” I say, pointing a finger at her.

“Fair point,” she concedes. “But the real point is that as much as I’ve loved helping you for a season of time, I want to find my path, you know? Where I’m supposed to be, what I’m supposed to be doing with my life for the long haul.”

“I can understand that. Do you know what you’re going to do?” I ask.

Sam gets a bashful look on her face. “I haven’t for sure decided anything yet, but I’ve been researching cosmetology school. I kinda like the idea of being a hair-stylist—getting to have a creative outlet but also an excuse to talk to people and ask questions all day. Do you think that’s a bad idea?”

The vulnerability on Sam’s face when she asks what I think cuts to my heart. I wrap my arms around her in a full hug. “I think you’d be amazing at that, Sam. It’s a great idea.”

She hugs me back for a long second before she speaks again. “For the record, I’m interested in styling women’s hair. You know, highlights, layers, et cetera, et cetera. I’m not touching your fade with a ten-foot pole.” She lightly smacks the back of my head before she pulls away, grinning.

“But think of all the PR opportunities—the Wizard’s sister giving the Wizard haircut to all of Kansas City’s youngsters. It’s genius,” I tease.

Sam smacks me again. “I’m forging myownpath, thank you very much. But don’t worry—I’ll get you through the rest of the season first. After that, I’m leaving you to fend for yourself with Joe.”

“I can fend just fine, thank you very much,” I say, following Samantha out to the living room. “Especially after the interview today. Joe’s been practically salivating at all the positive press and wider media attention this is going to bring.”

“I’ll have the calendar ready to start scheduling all the new sponsorship requests,” Sam teases. “Kidding, not kidding.”

“How’d the interview go, man?” Adrian asks as he laces up his cleats.

“Awesome,” I say, tugging my jersey on over my head. “The lady asking questions was really laid-back, which helped Danae not freak out so much. She didn’t press when we purposely kept certain answers short.”

Drew messes up my hair as he walks by. “And the photo shoot? Was it heaven to have an excuse to act all lovey-dovey with Danae?”

I throw my mitt at him. “I don’t need an excuse to act lovey-dovey. You losing your charm after all these years married?”

“My charm game has only increased over time,” Drew replies, waggling his eyebrows. “As evidenced by the fact that Lily’s pregnant.”

“What? You serious?” I ask, and Adrian abruptly jumps to his feet yelling in Spanish.

Drew grins. “Dead serious. She’s about nine weeks along and beginning every morning in the bathroom throwing up.”