He nods, satisfied. "Good. You took a hell of a hit out there."
I huff out a humorless laugh. "Yeah, so I’ve been told."
Coach gives me a look, like he knows I’ve been replaying it in my head nonstop since it happened, like he knows I’m pissed I didn’t see it coming, that I didn’t get to finish the game.
That I woke up in a hospital instead of celebrating with my team.
But he doesn’t dwell on it. Instead, he clicks his tablet off and leans forward, resting his forearms on his desk. "Alright, let’s talk about what’s next. You’ve got Pro Day coming up in March, and from everything I’m hearing, the scouts are already circling. That game may not have ended the way you wanted, but your tape speaks for itself."
I nod, trying to focus, trying to shift my head to what actually matters. "Which teams?"
"Same ones as before," he says. "A lot of interest on the East Coast. New Haven, Atlantic City, and Charleston are all still in the mix. Plus, I got a call from a couple of others asking for updated medicals after the hit. No one's backing off. You’re still a projected first-rounder."
I exhale slowly, nodding. I should feel excited, relieved.
This is what I’ve worked for, what I’ve built my entire life around.
And yet…
There’s an ache in my chest I can’t shake.
Because no matter where I go, no matter how big the contract is, no matter which team calls my name on draft night?—
She won’t be there.
I shake my head, forcing my focus back. "What’s the plan between now and then?"
"First, we need you cleared," Coach says. "Then, it’s training. Your agent’s already lining things up for you—combine drills, private workouts, interviews. Pro Day is gonna be your big moment."
I nod. I expected that.
Coach studies me for a second. "You ready for it?"
Physically? Yes.
Mentally?
I have to be.
I square my shoulders. "Yeah. I’m ready."
Coach nods like he believes me. "Good. Because in a few months, your life’s gonna change, and I need you locked in, Montgomery."
I exhale, steadying myself, shoving everything else down.
I step out of Coach’s office, the weight of the conversation still sitting heavy on my chest.
Pro Day. The draft. My life changing in a few months.
I should be pumped. Every kid who ever picked up a footballdreams of this moment, of getting that call, hearing their name announced, walking across that stage with their new team’s jersey in hand.
It’s everything I’ve worked for, everything I’ve built my life around.
And yet, as I climb into my truck and grip the steering wheel, it all feels...hollow.
Because every version of my future, every possibility that plays out in my head?—
None of them have her in it.
