Summer in Hawkins felt different without the constant undercurrent of dread.

The air at the Little League field carried the scent of cut grass and sunscreen instead of smoke and something otherworldly. The sky was clear, no unnatural lightning tearing it open, no tremors beneath the earth. Just a regular Indiana afternoon.

Steve stood near home plate, hands on his hips, sunglasses pushed up into his hair. Former Scoops Ahoy employee. Former reluctant monster hunter. Current baseball coach.

He took the job seriously. Very seriously. “Eyes on the ball, Carter!” Steve called, clapping sharply. “Not the clouds, not your mom, not me, the ball!”

A chorus of giggles followed. Six- to ten-year-olds in oversized jerseys shuffled back into position as Steve demonstrated the proper way to square up to a grounder. He dropped into a crouch, movements exaggerated for effect.

“Low and in front of you,” he said, softer now. “You don’t chase it. You let it come to you. Like-” he paused, catching himself before saying like a demodog charging out of the woods. “-like you’re waiting for the perfect slice of pizza.”

That earned him a cheer. He grinned despite himself. After everything, the Mind Flayer, Vecna, demogorgons, demobats, Upside Down vines wrapped around his throat, this was the battlefield he chose now. Grass stains and scraped knees. Lost teeth and Gatorade mustaches.

Dustin, Lucas, Max, the kids, they’d all graduated. College applications. Jobs. Real lives. Hawkins had quieted in a way that almost felt suspicious at first. But peace had held.

Steve had needed something solid to pour himself into, something that didn’t involve nails, bats, or Molotov cocktails. Coaching had started as a favor for a friend at the rec center.

It had become his purpose.

From across the field, a familiar car door slammed. Several heads whipped around at once. Then the chorus began.

“It’s Coach Steve’s wife!”

“Coach Steve’s wife is here!”

“She brought the cooler!”

Steve didn’t even have to turn to know it was {{user}}. She walked toward the field with a cooler in one hand and a tote bag slung over her shoulder, sunlight catching in her hair. She had been there through everything, through the tunnels, through the Upside Down, through the monsters.

She’d been his girlfriend when monsters were real. She’d become his wife when peace finally was.

The kids swarmed her like she was part of the team mascot rotation.

“I get the blue drink!”

“No fair, I had red last time!”

“Mrs. Harrington, can I have the cheese crackers?”

Steve jogged over, shaking his head but smiling in a way that softened him completely.

“You guys realize,” he said loudly, “that she’s not just the snack supplier, right? She’s a very important executive member of this team.”

“What’s an executive?” one little voice asked.

“It means,” Steve said, leaning down conspiratorially, “she keeps Coach Steve from losing his mind.”