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There’s a nine-year age gap between us, which means I was already off at college when Sam and her biological brother, Ian, were officially adopted into the West family. I was the only one to live at homewith them when they arrived as foster placements. My older siblings, Sawyer and Miranda, were out of college when Sam and Ian first came to live with us at the ages of nine and five.

Although we had lots of other kids in the foster system cycle through our home over the years, Sam and Ian were the only two to join us forever. Growing up with other children constantly in and out of our lives had its challenging moments, but it also taught me a level of humility and empathy that I don’t think I would have learned otherwise. I certainly wouldn’t have learned it from any of the coaches or teammates who constantly treated me like I was a gift to the sport of baseball.

My upbringing is also the reason I hold this camp every January, not to bolster a positive image in the press. It’s to give kids with fewer opportunities a chance to feel special. To enjoy a hobby they may not get to play consistently. Even if it’s only for a few days.

Giving their foster parents a reprieve at the end of winter break isn’t a bad side effect either.

We cap the head count at twenty kids, which always makes me feel guilty about the myriads who don’t get selected. But it ensures that I can form some level of personal connection with each individual over the course of three days.

“Have you heard anything from Ian lately?” I ask Sam.

“Yeah, I talked to him a couple of days ago. He goes back for spring semester the third week of January. Sounds pretty eager to get back to it,” Sam answers, voice flat. She always served as the protective older sister to Ian, but where she floundered in the college setting, Ian has thrived. Reading her reaction, I don’t press further.

“You’ve been working hard getting everything organized, and the next three days are about to be exhausting. How about we go out for a celebratory dinner?” I offer.

“Aren’t celebrations supposed to comeaftera successful event?” Sam replies with a smirk.

“I have so much faith in you that I’m willing to treat you early,” I say, flashing her my most charming grin. “How about Capital Gr—”

She cuts me off. “I swear if you finish that suggestion, I’ll leave town and let you run this camp solo.”

“But—” I try to protest.

“Nope,” Sam asserts. “I’m in the mood for sushi.”

I groan. “You know that means a high possibility of autographs and photos, right?”

The smirk on Sam’s face confirms that she’s not only aware, but that it’s part of her plan.

“You’re lucky you’re so indispensable,” I huff. But there’s no real malice in my statement. I do, however, take a moment to completely tousle Sam’s hair, an asymmetrical blonde pixie cut with pink highlights.

Sam shrieks. “Hey! I spent a long time perfecting that today, you jerk. I had it flawlessly cascading over one eye to my chin just so!” She swats at my hand and punches my arm like an indignant little girl, rather than a twenty-four-year-old woman.

“Well, now it’s imperfectly swooshing across your face. Right in time for all the photos you’re going to subject us to,” I tease.

Sam pokes a finger to my chest. “That’s it. You’re getting me dumplingsandedamame for appetizers. Move it.”

Chapter three

Danae

Irush up the stairs too quickly and stub my toe on the top step.Ouch!

I try to ignore the outsized amount of pain caused by the minor injury as I walk into Jason's room. “Jason, we really have to hurry if we’re going to make it there on time.”

He’s sitting in the middle of the floor, arms clutched tightly around his knees. Still in pajamas.

I bite back a comment of frustration, inhaling a deep breath instead. I kneel next to him and ask in a low voice, “What’s going on? You’ve been so excited about this camp. Why aren’t you ready to go?”

Jason keeps his head down, but I’ve memorized everything about his face by now. The piercing green eyes above a splatter of freckles across his cheeks. The fiery red hair that makes my auburn tresses look plain brown in comparison. When he still doesn’t meet my gaze, I reach out to rub a hand across his back.

We’ve settled into a groove over the past month. Or, as much of a groove as possible during the holiday season. We rode the emotional highs and lows of celebrating our first Christmas together. Jason’s grandmother joined us for Christmas dinner, and the two days following her visit were filled with emotional land mines. I tried to implement some of the suggestions from themanybooks about adoption that Iread leading up to welcoming Jason into my life. But either I executed them wrong, or they’re not one hundred percent guaranteed.

Still, I’d wager we’re still very much in the “honeymoon phase.” We have gotten more and more comfortable around each other, if Jason’s willingness to openly snuggle into my side while reading or watching movies is any indication. The increase in emotional outbursts lately might also be evidence of his growing comfort with me.

After another moment of rubbing his back, Jason finally responds with a timid voice. “Is it okay that I’m excited to play baseball? About getting to meet Griffin West in real life?”

“Of course, it’s okay for you to be excited! Thisisan exciting thing!” I swallow down the sense of lying through my teeth. The prospect of having anything to do with baseball is the polar opposite of exciting to me. But I know that Jason has been ecstatic about this opportunity.