She screams and dances around. “I knew it!”
My dad sent a car to pick us up and take us to the KeyBank Center.
We walk in, and the place is crawling with media and fans. A few people shout my name. I smile and wave. When Sutton tries to step away so they can take my picture, I keep her hand in mine.
My dad is across the room talking to someone I don't recognize. He flew in last night, and we had dinner. Just the two of us for the first time in longer than I can remember. It wasn't easy. There were long silences and things left unsaid, but we got through it. He's here. That's what matters.
He catches my eye and gives me a short nod. I nod back.
The room is full of guys I've competed against for the last four years. Some of them I respect. Some of them I've wanted toput through the boards. Now we're all sitting in the same room, waiting to find out where our lives are going.
We make our way inside and take our seats. You can smell the nerves in the air. Anxious fans, players, and family are all waiting. My palms are sweaty.
She’s holding my hand. I don’t know whose palms are sweatier.
I look at her. She's not nervous. She looks completely serene. I don't know if she's faking it for my benefit or if she actually believes Boston will pick me, but either way, it helps.
Boston is on the clock.
I watch the Boston representative move toward the podium. The room suddenly feels very far away, like I'm watching it through glass. I can barely breathe. I didn’t even know how badly I wanted this until right this very moment.
Then he says my name.
It doesn't feel real. I hear it clearly, but for a full second, my brain refuses to process it. Sutton squeals and starts clapping. I don’t know how I do it, but I get to my feet. She's hugging me, and then my dad is there.
“Told you I’d get it done,” he says into my ear.
I nod. Yeah, he’s gloating, but in this case, I’ll let it slide. He just made my day.
I walk onto the stage, and a black-and-gold jersey is high above with my last name on it.
I shake hands with the rep while people clap and celebrate. My eyes find Sutton in the crowd. My dad might think he did this, but it wouldn’t have been possible without her. I wouldn’t have the dedication and drive to go pro. One day, he’ll see that.
I pull Sutton close when I can, jersey in hand, cameras still flashing.
This is it. Everything I worked for, everything I chose, everything I fought my father and my own fear to get to.
Ididget my cake, and I’m going to feast on it.
Epilogue
DECLAN - SIX MONTHS LATER
Ilean back on the couch, a slice of pepperoni pizza halfway to my mouth, watching Sutton across from me. She's curled up in the corner of our sectional with her own slice, wearing one of my old Avalon hoodies and those ridiculous fuzzy socks with the little grips on the bottom. Her hair is up in a messy bun, and she's got that look on her face—the one she gets when she's thinking hard about something she can't quite share.
"You're doing the thing again," I say.
She blinks and focuses on me. "What thing?"
"The thing where you're somewhere else entirely." I take a bite of pizza. "Work?"
"Always work." She sighs and sets her slice down on the paper plate balanced on her knee. "We got this case last week. I can't tell you details, but it's complicated. The kind of complicated that makes my brain hurt."
"Good complicated or bad complicated?"
"Both? I don't know." She picks at the cheese on her pizza. "It's high profile. I love what I do, but I hate the thought of me screwing something up and a bad guy getting away.”
"I know you." I finish my slice and reach for another. "You're meticulous. You triple-check everything. Just do what you do. The bad guy will get his.”
