Epilogue
EPILOGUE
TYLER
Echo shifts restlessly on her seat beside me. “When does it start?”
I stare at the stage, my stomach a riot of nerves. “Any minute now.”
Conversation buzzes around us, but I tune it all out. My companions understand. They know how important today is for me, and they’re here to support me through every minute. I reach over and squeeze Echo’s hand. I’m sweating, even though the air conditioning is on.
“You’ll get Washington,” Soraya says, leaning over Echo so I can hear her. “Right, Mom?”
“They’d be silly not to pick you first,” Mom replies, her smile hesitant. “They need a strong center.”
I allow myself to be distracted by her momentarily. In a blue dress and makeup a little brighter than Dad would have let her wear, she looks good. She and I have been talking lately, and I’m glad she’s here with me. While we haven’t mended any bridges yet, we’re on the way there.
Echo toys with the necklace she now wears every day. “Whatever happens, we’ll make it work.”
My gut knots tighten. “I know.”
But that doesn’t mean I don’t have all my fingers and toes crossed for Washington. It would mean the least distance between Echo and me. She’s said she’ll relocate for her postgraduate studies so she can be with me, but I don’t want to take her too far from home.
A hush descends when a man stands in the center of the stage, where a podium is positioned with a microphone to ensure everyone can hear him. I barely manage to pay attention to the words of his introductory speech, but I clap when he calls up the manager of the Chicago Chaos, whose team won the draft lottery.
The manager is still relatively new. He takes to the stage and steps up to the podium. I raise my hand to where I know the moon sits against my chest, even if it’s currently hidden by my shirt. I keep my eyes trained on the stage, my ears straining for the name. When it comes, I’m unsurprised.
Cole Trent. Son of Joseph Trent, the team’s owner.
Talk about nepotism.
Not that Trent’s a bad player. He should definitely be a first-round pick. But it’s not a good look for the Chaos. Hopefully the team’s public relations teams already have a campaign in place to put a positive spin on the choice.
Trent heads up to the stage and dons the team’s shirt and cap. He poses for a photo, then joins them as they leave, making way for Nashville, who have the second pick. I hold my breath as the Nashville manager makes a brief statement of thanks before announcing that their choice is Devin Sanders.
Boston chooses Michael Wilkins.
Then it’s Washington’s turn.
I grip Echo’s hand tightly. On my other side, Inez slips her hand into mine too. I don’t even care that one of the many cameras here might be recording us clinging to each other.
The Washington manager seems to speak forever, even though I know it’s probably less than a minute.
When he voices my name, my mouth falls open.
I blink in shock. Echo and Inez release my hands and Echo pushes my shoulder.
“Go,” she whispers. “Go, Tyler. It’s you.”
I walk to the stage in a stupor, somehow making my way up the steps. The manager shakes my hand. I thank him, but everything seems to be happening at a distance, as if I’m watching myself from above.
Someone from the small cluster of people with him offers me a shirt with the number 21 printed on it, and my name on the bottom. I raise my arms and it falls over me. I’m guided into position in the center of the group as a woman with a camera snaps photos, and then we leave the stage.
I join my new team at their table, where I make small talk between announcements. Washington chooses another 6 players. Several of my former teammates are selected for NHL teams, including Anaheim and Matthews. When the rounds are complete, we’re whisked away to a meet and greet.
It’s completely surreal.
Later, when I’m finally free to return to my family, I find them waiting in the hotel room Echo and I are sharing.
They cheer as I enter, and crowd around me. I accept the congratulations, but before they can properly begin the celebrations, I stride over to Echo and drop to one knee in front of her.
Everyone falls silent.
Echo raises her hand to her mouth, her eyes wide.
“Echo. Baby. I love you so much. I’ve always loved you, and I want to continue to love you for the rest of my life. Getting picked for Washington is awesome, but it’s nothing compared to a lifetime with you.”
I reach into my suit pocket and pull out the ring I chose for her several weeks ago. My hands tremble as I open the box.
“Will you marry me?”
She blinks back tears. “Yes. I would love to marry you, Ty.”
She offers me her hand and pulls me to my feet. I kiss her, and once she’s gazing up at me with glazed eyes, I carefully remove the ring from the box and slide it onto her finger. A perfect fit. It’s white gold, and in the center, a cluster of diamonds are shaped into a star.
She studies the ring, and a tear spills down her cheek. “It’s beautiful.”
I gather her in my arms, cradling her against my chest. “I can’t wait to spend my life with you.”
My heart is so full, it aches in the sweetest way possible. Once upon a time, my existence felt like a black hole, sucking my soul into nothingness. Now, everything is bright and hopeful—lit by the glow of a shooting star.
My shooting star.
THE END