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“Miss Danae?” Jason’s voice startles me, and I look up to see him standing by the couch.

“What is it?” I ask, jumping up.

“I can’t fall asleep,” Jason says. “I’m not used to it being so quiet.”

“Oh, right,” I say. “Would you want me to try downloading a sound machine app on the tablet? Maybe some ambient noise would help.”

Once I get the white noise going for Jason, I decide I may as well go to bed early. It’s been an exhausting, emotionally-charged day. If we’re going to go shopping tomorrow for a bedspread plus Christmas decorations, then I need to get some rest.

As I lie in bed snuggled under the white down comforter, I try to quiet all the “what if” questions pummeling my thoughts.

In the end, I get very little sleep.

Chapter two

Griffin

“Why can’t I bring in reporters to cover Camp Wizard? Think about all the good publicity you’re throwing away.”

I close my eyes, rubbing my temples with one hand. The cell phone in my other hand is in danger of getting thrown across the room. Although, I shouldn’t blame an inanimate object for my agent’s refusal to understand my position.

“Joe, we rehash this exact conversation every year. My purpose for this camp is to give kids in foster care a place to come and have fun, learn some baseball skills, and forget their life circumstances for a few days. Kids who deserve some privacy. It’s not about positive PR. My entire image already consists of nothing but positive PR. No reporters,” I say through gritted teeth.

“Fine, fine. You know I had to try,” Joe says, resigned.

“Well, stop trying. If you pester me about it again next year, I’m going to find a new agent,” I challenge.

“Sure, sure.”

“I’m serious.” I am serious.

“Okay, fine, I got it. Have fun with the kids. Just don’t let it distract you from your training. You have a lot to prove this season—that you’re back and better than ever post-injury. Griffin West, The Wizard of Defense, needs to show the baseball world that he’s still the same caliber of shortstop,” Joe adds.

I rub harder at my temples. “Thanks for the reminder.”

Hanging up without saying goodbye, I transition from rubbing my temples to rubbing my shoulder. It’s been over eight months since my injury, and I’ve completely rehabbed back to playing condition. I served my time down on the lower league farm team that the Kansas City Crowns pulls players from, proving that I could still perform at the same MLB level.

But somehow, Joe’s reminder of all that’s on the line magically makes my shoulder ache. As if I needed a reminder of how close I came to losing everything I’ve worked for. Everything I’ve built.

Who I am.

“What’s up, big bro?” Sam chirps, patting my shoulders like drums as she walks past me to the kitchen.

“Just Joe being annoying,” I respond.

Sam pulls a face. “So fire him. The whole world loves you, Griff. You could have your pick of agents. Not sure why you keep his irritating face around.”

She’s never liked Joe all that much, but he’s been by my side for my entire professional baseball career, ever since I was recruited out of college. My lingering sense of loyalty has stopped me from getting out of my contract with him.

But that loyalty isseriouslywaning now.

Sam tosses a Gatorade from the fridge to me, and I decide to change the subject.

“Everything good to go for the start of Camp Wizard tomorrow?” I ask.

She takes her time gulping several swigs of her kombucha concoction before answering. “Triple checked everything this morning. We’ve done it enough times that it’s a well-oiled machine at this point.”

This is the fourth year that Samantha has been living with me and working as my assistant. What started as a way to give my little sister a soft place to land when she couldn’t figure out a direction in life has turned into a mutually beneficial situation that we both enjoy.