Page 17

seventeen

RHETT

Twelve Years Ago

Montréal, QC, CA

I don’t let myself look up.

I tap my foot, clenching my teeth together.

Keep it together , my own voice echoes in the forefront of my mind, while dozens of others scream at me in the back of it.

You’ll never make it in the NHL.

You don’t deserve this.

You’re a liability.

You’re an embarrassment.

You’re worthless.

Who would pick you?

The last voice sends an ache through my jaw and a shiver down my spine. Because it’s the freshest blow. And it belongs to my father.

My father, who isn’t here today for the NHL draft. My father, who—despite every report for the last six months forecasting me as a top pick—has had me convinced since long before I played college hockey that there’s not a chance in hell.

None of it ever felt real to me. It was always hard to grasp. I know I’m great at hockey. I put everything I have into it. But it’s never felt like enough. I’m no better than anyone else in this room. Certainly no more deserving. I’m just a lucky bastard. No one to admire.

I catch movement in my peripheral vision and glance to the side, catching the eye of the closest thing to a mother that I have here for me.

Except she’s the mother of the guy in this room I think deserves to be here more than anyone else. Someone who is worth looking up to.

Bennett’s seated next to me, between me and both of his parents.

Jamesy’s also a top favorite to be drafted. There’s not an article that’s talked about me that hasn’t talked about him. We’ve been absolutely dominating together and have led U of T to the two most successful seasons they’ve had in the last two decades.

And now we’re both sitting here at the NHL fucking draft—a moment we’ve dreamed of since we were little kids—and it’s clear both of our minds are miles away.

Julia didn’t show up for him. I hate that for him more than I can express. But selfishly, it’s kinda nice to not be the only person in the room that was overlooked for once.

I glance from Bennett’s stoic face back to his mom’s. Shaunna James is giving me a warm smile, so I smile back. Her lips twitch at the corners, her smile threatening to shift into a frown. She’s trying to hide it, though. That she’s sad. Sad for me.

I just keep on grinning at her, not wavering. Because I don’t have to try to hide anything. Because it’s something I’ve become an expert at by this point. I shoot her a wink, making her breathe out a laugh.

Teddy James turns his head my way then, looking past his wife and son to find my gaze. His lips pull tight, and he gives me a soft nod—one I know is meant to be reassuring. He has the same way of communicating wordlessly that his son does.

The room gradually grows quiet, and I turn my head forward to see a man taking the stage.

And with the silence of the room, my brain promptly begins screaming at me.

I force myself to sit tall, squaring my shoulders. But my head feels like it weighs a hundred pounds, and I find it falling forward. I focus on the spot on the ground between my feet, listening to the current speaker the best I can.

Time seems to slow as the first team takes the stage to make their pick.

It’s Anaheim.

I take a deep breath. I know there have to be eyes on me.

Cameras, surely. People waiting for my reaction, whatever it might be.

I wonder for a moment if my parents could be watching from wherever they are.

Pretty sad that I don’t even know, isn’t it?

I don’t honestly know if I’m hoping they’re watching or praying they aren’t.

I blow out the breath I realize I’ve been holding, letting my eyes fall shut.

I think about Anaheim, trying to picture my life there.

I try to imagine myself as a real NHL player.

The greatest fantasy of my life. I ask myself if it could truly be real.

I’m shaking my head before I even finish the thought.

There’s no chance.

They won’t want you.

Who would place their faith in you?

And then I hear the words.

“The Anaheim Hooks select… ”

I open my eyes, zeroing in on the stage. And I swear, it’s as if the representative from Anaheim makes eye contact with me. My heart starts pounding in my ears, and it’s so loud that I don’t even process the next words at first.

“From Boston University ? —”

And then it all fades out.

Because it’s not me.

Of course it’s not me.

Who would pick you?

My shoulders slump as my back hits the chair. I hear applause from all throughout the crowd and vaguely register movement toward the stage.

And suddenly, I know the answer.

I’m praying my parents aren’t watching. And I’m relieved they aren’t here.

Because I can feel my dad’s glare of disapproval anyway, and hear my mom’s sniff of indifference. I can hear both of their voices, clear as day, in my head.

The first team and their number one draft pick exit the stage. A man takes the stage next, stepping up to the podium. I think he’s wearing a red tie with his suit, but my vision is blurring too much to be sure.

What am I even doing here?

I shouldn’t be here. All those reports about me being a top draft pick were just to keep the rumor mill going.

I’m a controversial pick. I’m a loud player.

Everyone knows my name, and I can’t even say it’s always for good reason.

Throwing my name around gets attention. It keeps people watching.

But that’s nothing that should make an NHL team invest millions in me.

“With the second overall pick…”

I should go.

“...the Chicago Blizzard select…”

I need to go. I? —

“...from the University of Toronto…”

I stiffen, my head immediately snapping to the side.

Bennett.

Hot tears burn at the corners of my eyes.

Because oh my fucking God.

My best friend in the world. The one person who’s always had my back. The one who deserves this more than anyone else I can imagine?—

“Rhett Sutton.”

I blink.

And then I blink again.

By the time my eyes open again, Bennett’s gaze is locked on me. My mouth falls open, but no words come out. I can hear people cheering all around me and feel some pats on my shoulders, but none of it clicks. Because it doesn’t make sense.

I think I may be frozen in place. I’m not sure I can move.

Luckily, Bennett gets to his feet, pulling me up with him.

Then he wraps me tight in his arms, and somehow that grounds me.

Wakes me up. I pull back to look at him, meeting his eyes.

I start to give words one more try, but I don’t get the chance before Bennett is being pulled away from me and Shaunna and Teddy are hugging me as if I were their very own son.

If only, I can’t help but think. Even though I know it’s disrespectful. I wouldn’t be here without my parents. They’ve invested so much into this sport for me. All the team fees. All the equipment. All those summers in Lake Placid.

Money can get you much further in life much quicker.

I’m not so unself-aware to ignore the privilege I have.

But I’m also conscious enough to know that—even with everything I could need in life—there have still been so many days where it feels like I have nothing.

Like it’s not worth anything. Because it turns out there are some things money can’t buy.

Teddy James physically nudging me out into the aisle is the only thing that pulls me from my thoughts and gets me moving toward the front of the room.

It’s all a complete and total blur as I climb the stage, shake the Chicago representative’s hand, accept the red jersey and ball cap, slip them on, say thank you, and pose for a flurry of camera flashes.

I don’t feel like me again until I’m back with the Jameses.

Bennett turns his full body toward me the moment I find my seat again, making sure he has my attention before he speaks.

“You deserve it,” he tells me.

And with the way he says it—in a tone of voice I’ve only heard once or twice in our whole friendship—and with the way he’s looking at me, his eyes soft and unblinking, I almost believe him.

My throat feels tight, and my eyes are burning with a sheen of tears I won’t dare let through, but still, I smile. Because it’s what I do. But I can’t lie when I finally speak up for the first time since being picked.

“I can’t fucking believe it,” I mutter.

Jamesy doesn’t move a muscle.

“I can,” he says.

I start to fight him on it, but I realize there’s no use. Because whether we believe it or not, someone was crazy enough to take a chance on me. Some higher being was kind enough to grant me my greatest dream.

And a few rounds later into the draft, they grant Bennett his as well.

A man with a green tie ascends the stage. And he says the words:

“The Texas Storm selects…”

He pauses for a moment, and I don’t know why, but in that pause, I know. And my hand is squeezing his shoulder before I can stop myself.

“...from the University of Toronto, Bennett James. ”

And now it’s my turn to stand. To drag my friend from his seat and wrap him in a hug I don’t think either of us will ever forget. At least not me.

Because this is the beginning.

But it’s also the end.

The end of the two of us being teammates. Over a decade of it. And it’s the first time it’s actually occurred to me that I’m going to be doing this without him. That I’ll have to.

That I’m really on my own now.

That I’m alone.

With no one to stop me from fucking it all up.