Page 142 of The Hardest Fall

Turning my head, I pressed a kiss to her palm. “Not yet, Flash. We don’t know anything yet. I have no idea where we’re gonna end up.”

“Oh, come on. I read some of the predictions—someone will snatch you up in the first round. Your NFL combine was legendary.”

I laughed. “Yeah? What do you know about it?”

“Nothing, but I know whichever team gets you will have one hell of a season next year with you on their side.”

I laughed harder and drew the attention of my parents. I nuzzled her neck. “You crack me up, Flash.”

She pushed me back. “You just keep making fun of me, buddy. I predict you’ll be in the top five.”

My eyes widened. I pushed a lock of hair behind her ear and my smile softened. “Top five, huh?”

The commissioner was on the stage, and all the players sitting around us fell silent.

“Welcome to the NFL draft!”

The night began as he put the Cleveland Browns on the clock and the waiting game started. The table we were sharing with another player and his family got a lot quieter after that, and my dad changed seats with my agent, Scott, to sit next to me. My mom was next to Zoe and they were whispering discreetly.

The minutes ticked by, and with the first pick, the Cleveland Browns selected a quarterback from Oklahoma.

“For the overall second pick, the New York Giants are now on the clock.”

I closed my eyes and ran both of my hands over my head. I was so ready to find out what my future held.

Zoe touched my arm and I looked at her. “It’s going to be great. You got this,” she whispered, our heads tilted down, side by side.

Eight minutes passed.

“You have an idea which team will pick you?” my dad asked.

“No idea, Dad. If I don’t get picked…if I start dropping too much, my chances will get only lower.”

He thumped my back two times and shook his head. I could see how nervous and restless he was, but he was doing his best to not show it. We watched the commissioner walk back on stage, and all chatter quieted.

“With the second pick of the 2018 NFL draft, the New York Giants select Dylan Reed, wide receiver…”

It took me a second or two to process what I was hearing, what I was seeing on the screen. My dad, my mom, and Zoe were all standing, but I couldn’t hear a single thing because of the blood roaring in my ears.

I covered my head with my hands and slowly got up.

Both of my parents were crying, but I was still in shock. My dad was the first one to pull me into his arms. Everyone was clapping around us, and I felt my dad’s chest rapidly rising and falling with his silent tears. He pulled back and looked at me, his hands holding my face. He gently patted my cheek twice then let me go. My mom was standing right next to him, her eyes bright and wide and beautiful as always.

“Look at you,” she said, her voice broken but still strong and proud. “Look at my beautiful boy.”

When she let me go, I turned around.

She was standing right there, waiting for me, and that’s when I smiled. That’s when sound started to trickle back in, and she still just stood there, tears running down her cheeks. I went to her because I couldn’t look at her and not touch, not hold. Leaning down, I wrapped my arms around her waist, and she stood on her tiptoes to hug me back. I could feel her frantic heartbeats, her pulse beating wildly. Then we started laughing, my own eyes misted with unshed tears.

When they told me I needed to go to the stage, Zoe pulled back and smiled. “Go, go, go.”

Everything that came after happened in slow motion, yet I still had trouble keeping up. Chris stopped me on my way and hugged me. I was still surprised…elated, shocked, honored, humbled. Then I was on stage and I could see myself on the big screen as the fans cheered. I took my new jersey with my name on it and smiled for the photographs. I’d made it.

I’d fucking made it.

I had everything I’d ever wanted and more.

* * *

As soon as I was off the stage, my phone rang, and I listened to my new coach welcoming me to the team. I don’t remember everything he said to me, but I remember repeating a lot of the same things: “Yes, sir.” “I won’t disappoint you, sir.” “I appreciate it, sir.”

It was surreal for sure, but it was also bittersweet. As soon as I hung up with my new coach, JP’s call came in. He hadn’t recovered back to his old self and the trainers didn’t think he had a future playing anymore, but he’d taken everything better than I would’ve if I were in his position. Still, I planned to try my best to help him in any way I could. We would always be a team.