“I never thought you were one who adhered to the notion or romanticism of fate.”

“I don’t. I do.” I throw my hands up. “I don’t know what I think anymore.”

“Look. I get it. It’s okay to feel a little lost sometimes. Dekker’s about to start a family with Hunter. Lennox just got married to Rush. Brexton is deliriously happy with Drew. You’re feeling lost.”

“No. That’s not it.” I raise my voice to him. “I’m feeling frustrated. Trapped. Like that is what’s expected of me next when I don’t want it to be me. That’s the last thing on my radar, and today’s stunt by my sisters just proves my point.”

He chews over my comment as his eyes hold mine. “No one wants you to feel trapped, Chase. I certainly don’t. All I want for you is to find your own path, find what makes you happy, and run with it.”

I hear his words, know he means them, but have a hard time accepting them.

“Thank you.” My voice is soft as I look back down at the letter and the unknown story behind it. “Do you remember anything about him?”

“Vaguely. He was a wild child with one hell of an arm.”

“Was he nice?”

He gives me a half-smile. “You’re testing my memory here. Can I say he was cocky? Will you accept that as an answer?” He laughs. We both know most twenty-year-olds good enough to be recruited by any professional sports team are cocky. It’s part of their MO.

“You’re no help,” I joke. “What else do you remember about him, if anything?”

“Believe it or not, when we received the letter in the mail, I pulled up my old recruiting logs. I only had a few notes on him. It was his junior college coach who reached out to us, trying to drum up interest for a player who wouldn’t naturally be on our radar.”

“The kid had a one-hundred-mile-per-hour arm. How was he not on everyone’s radar?”

My father gets a far-off look in his eyes and then gives a quick shake of his head. “I guess that’s the question, isn’t it?”

I nod, understanding what he means as I pull the letter from the envelope and unfold the worn, lined paper.

Dear KSM,

I just recently learned of your interest in me as an athlete and wanted to thank you. However, my dream to play in the major league is over. I’ve been advised to let old dreams go. To accept that life has changed forever.

-Ryan Camden

“This letter makes no sense. Why would his dream to play be over if he had genuine interest from clubs and agents?” I ask, hating that every time I read the letter, I’m overcome with a sadness I can’t shake.

Giving up a dream is like saying you’ve run out of hope.