pionship and won, and he’ll do the same for the Assassins.
Looking up at me, he winks as he walks off the platform and to the room for the draft picks.
“You’re next, Bay,” my dad says to me then, and I nod as he squeezes my hand. These last couple months haven’t been easy. I’ve worked my ass off, played hard, and I am hoping that all the work I’ve done doesn’t go unnoticed.
But when I don’t go next, or even after that, my confidence starts to waver a bit. When my phone vibrates in my hand, I look down to see that it’s Jayden.
Jayden: Don’t worry, they’re gonna call you.
Me: I don’t think so. We are already on the ninth round.
My eyes are too clouded with tears, but I blink them away. I won’t cry. I haven’t failed. I’m a winner.
Jayden: Stop that right now. You got this.
Me: I hope you’re right.
Jayden: I always am.
Smiling, I swallow a sob as my dad wraps his arm around me. “Don’t worry, they’re about to call you. I can feel it.”
But then it’s the eleventh round, no call.
The twelfth and even the thirteenth with nothing.
“Let’s just go,” I finally say, tears burning my eyes.
“But we have one more round,” he says, looking at me with wide eyes. “Have faith,” he stresses, but I don’t. It’s gone.
“You got this, Baylor, don’t worry,” Jace says with a grin.
“Yes, honey. They’ll be dumb not to take you,” Mrs. Sinclair says, holding my hand.
Then my phone vibrates.
Jayden: Don’t you dare try to leave. Jude told on you.
As I glare down at Jude, he grins. “Hey, I don’t play nice.”
“He doesn’t,” Claire adds, her smile bright. “You got this.”
I used to feel so alone before, but now, I have a family.
I have Jayden.
Sucking in a breath and letting it out my nose, I sit back in my chair and wait. Chewing my lip, I fully expect to taste blood soon, but then I stop when there is a commotion at the Assassins table. Elli Adler is standing, her hands on her hips as she argues about whatever is upsetting her. Throwing down her pencil, she goes toe-to-toe with Bryan Fisher, which brings the attention of everyone.
“What in the world is going on?” Dad asks and I shrug.
“I have no clue,” I answer, scooting to the edge of my seat, hoping to hear something even though I’m at the top of the arena.
Then Bryan sits down, waving her off, and Elli bends down, writing something before handing it to the commissioner who is waiting for their pick.
When he reads the paper, his brows go up before he looks over at Elli. Bending down, he says something and she yells back in a very thick, country way, “It’s what I wrote, ain’t it?”
“Man, that Elli Adler don’t play,” Dad says, and I grin.
“She’s actually really nice,” I say, thinking of the hours on end I sat with her and Shea discussing hockey. While I hope my name is on that slip, I didn’t miss the uncertainty in her eyes when I suggested picking me. It was a snowball’s chance in hell, but I knew I had to say it. She smiled and told me she’d see what she could do, but I know that there are other prospects they may still want. Feeling defeated, I lean back in my chair just as the commissioner picks up the mic.