Page 74 of The Fine Line
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.
Becauseoh 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 theonly 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.
