DAY ONE COMPLETE.
“That’s Day One,” Dad said. “Not your finish line.”
My laugh came out thin. “Sure feels like it.”
Gage came around the couch and crouched so we were eye-to-eye. “Look at me.”
I did. Dylan did too.
“You are the same players you were three hours ago. Any team would be lucky to have either of you. So you weren’t first-round picks?—”
“Or second or third,” I mumbled.
“But you may be fourth or fifth.”
“Or not at all.” Dylan exhaled.
“We won’t know that until tomorrow,” Gage argued, reminding us that we still had another day.
But by the end of the draft, we still weren’t selected.
3
Dylan
The commentators’voices were the only sounds in the room. I stared at the TV above the fireplace until the letters blurred together on the screen.
It felt as though the air had been punched out of me. I’d spent years picturing the day I’d get a phone call from a team, my family would cheer, and my name would be announced on ESPN. Instead, I had nothing but a pit of disappointment settling deep in my gut.
Jase didn’t look like he was doing much better. His eyes were fixed on the floor as he rubbed his temples. We were best friends, as close as actual brothers, but we handled our stress differently. Jase withdrew and didn’t say much, while I tended to lash out.
Eventually, the quiet got to me, and I blurted, “That’s it? What the fuck are we supposed to do now?”
Logically, I knew what our options were. We could try to find teams willing to sign us, or we could go back to school. But what leverage did we have in negotiations if no one had wanted us inthe first place? And going back to school to face the pitying looks from our coaches and teammates, especially from the couple of players who had been picked up, didn’t sound any better.
Chase let out a breath. “You don’t have to decide anything right this second. Take tonight to process, and then you can figure out your next steps.”
“What’s another day going to change?” I snapped, unable to keep the bitterness out of my voice. “We still failed at making our dreams come true.”
Dad sat a little straighter in his chair. “I know you’re upset, but beating yourself up won’t help.”
“I’m not beating myself up,” I shot back. “I just don’t get it. We did everything right and worked our asses off.”
“Did you, though?” Chase asked, forcing everyone to look at him.
I clenched my jaw. “Of course we did.”
Dad leaned forward. “You’re both great ballplayers. No one could deny that, but did you push harder than everyone else fighting for the same dream?”
“There’s a difference between doing what is asked of you at practice and in games and taking the initiative to do more,” Chase added.
I didn’t want to admit they might’ve had a point, so I got to my feet. “I’m going upstairs.”
No one followed me, and I was grateful for that. When I reached the room I was staying in, I shut the door and leaned against it for a second, trying to swallow the lump in my throat. Playing in the major leagues had been all I wanted for as long as I could remember, and now that teams weren’t fighting for me, it felt as if someone had ripped a piece of my heart out.
I strode over to the bed and stretched out on top of the navy comforter. I don’t know how long I lay there, staring at nothing, until a knock came at the door.
“Yeah?” I called out.
