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“Yes … um …”

“Ava.”

When my call with Drew ends, I should be on top of the world, waking my wife up, fucking her till we both can’t move, but that ain’t happening, because when I mentioned Drew had messaged me before, offering to represent me, she had a lot to say.

Deborah has nothing but contempt for her. Said she’s a joke, just some D1 hockey burnout with a pretty face and a slutty reputation, riding her dad’s last name and her bedroom habits to try to stay relevant.

Deb said I deserved better and her dad was a lawyer and would look over any contract I needed him to.

So, yeah, I’m not going to deal with that, not tonight.

Instead, I send Coach D a text.

* * *

I fall asleep in the chair in the corner of the room, waiting to share the news with her. I desperately want to see her happy and proud of me.

When I wake up, she’s walking out of the bathroom, and before she even looks in my direction, I blurt out, “I got an invite,” heart thudding so hard it feels like it’s going to punch through my ribs. “The Knights. They want me.”

She looks up, blinking slow. “The Knights,” she says carefully, like she’s trying to figure out if this is real.

I smile and nod.

“They’re … not real New York, Kolby. They’re Knoxville. Everyone still calls them that.”

I shove past the lump forming in my throat, smiling so wide it almost hurts, and stand. “Yeah, but Deb, Hunt, Skinner, and Hart are there. Remember the good old days at Lincoln?” I laugh, reaching for her hands. “It’s like fate. I’ll be playing with the guys you used to watch from the student section, back where we fell in love.”

Her mouth pulls tight at the edges, but I keep going, words tumbling out fast, trying to paint it bright enough she’ll see it.

“I get picked, I’ll get a signing bonus,” I add. “It won’t be huge, but it’ll be enough. We can use it for a down payment. A real place. Our home.”

Her brows lift, interest sparking.

“In the city,” I push. “I’ll commute. I’ll travel. Whatever it takes until I get transferred closer.”

She softens, just a little. “I’ll try to be with you as much as I can,” she says, squeezing my hands lightly. “Travel to the good games. Be there when it matters.”

Relief crashes through me so fast I could drown in it.

Because this is it, right? This is the start. This is the part where it all turns around. Where we build the life she used to dream about. One where her old man will finally stop looking at me like he sees who I was and not who I’m trying to be.

I kiss her knuckles, one by one. Swearing silently, in the back of my mind, that I’ll make her proud. That I’ll make it all worth it.

I don’t see the way her eyes drift back to her phone in one hand when she says, “We gotta call Daddy. He needs to look over your paperwork and contracts. Maybe he’ll start a whole sports division in the firm and?—”

“Drew Daniels,” I say, and her face pinches tight. Then I tell her she’s the one who fought for me.

It may be the end of April, but winter has returned.

“He’s going to be so disappointed in you.”

* * *

The new dorms smell like fresh paint, fresh carpet, and a fresh start I’m not sure I deserve, but I’ll take it.

Everything gleams—slick floors, bright lights, stainless steel door handles that look like they belong in a fancy hotel instead of a football facility.

The Knights logo is plastered across the walls, a reminder. You’re here now. You made it. Make this count.