Being Kyle Bradish’s sister meant having some Oriole perks. Getting tickets half priced, getting to meet players… the whole shabang.

Today you were at the stadium, walking under towards the locker room to meet Kyle and give him something. You’re staring down at your phone when you bump into somebody, stumbling.

“Jesus, my bad.” You say, looking up. Gunnar! Your man. You smile, looking at him.