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Hud laughs. “Yeah, you are.”
I nod toward the TV. “It’s go time, bro.”
“Is it time?” Gram wakes and starts sitting up in her chair, and Jillian goes to help her.
Zoey hops off her lap and trots over to my feet. I pat my lap, and she tries to jump. She really wants to, but she can’t anymore. I bend down and scoop her up.
The commissioner begins with the normal shit about unprecedented times, and I’m zoning out already. Fuck this pandemic. I hate this. I don’t see why people can’t just stay the fuck away from each other if they’re not needed to assist those who need help.
Mom and Hud give me shit, saying not everyone is as antisocial as I am. It’s not that I’m antisocial. I like people enough—unless they’re assholes.
The first draft pick usually goes to the team with the worst record from the previous season. This gives them the chance to snag the top talent that college football has to offer. Helps to even the playing field, so to speak. It’s like being handed the key to unlock a treasure trove of potential. That key goes to the New York Knights, being that they’re dead last.
“Ladies and gentlemen, tonight marks a pivotal moment in the journey for the New York Knights.” The camera pans out, showing the bones of a stadium being built. “I’m one of the owners, Lucas Links, and this is our head coach, Trucker Cohen. We’ve both been where you are, waiting to be picked by a team to bring us on, make us part of the family. As we stand before you, we’re filled with an overwhelming sense of pride and excitement for what lies ahead for the Knights.”
Cohen steps up. “But before we dive into the future, we want to take a moment to express our deepest gratitude to the passionate supporters who’ve stood by us through thick and thin. Your steadfast dedication fuels our drive for excellence, and it’s with your support that we embark on this exciting new chapter.”
Links takes over. “Now, onto the reason we’re all gathered here tonight—the NFL draft. With our pick, we have evaluated the talent, weighed our options, and deliberated tirelessly to ensure that we make the best decision for our team’s future.”
Cohen smiles. “And so, it is with great enthusiasm that we announce our selection. With the first pick in the NFL draft, the New York Knights proudly selects Cody Warren from Lincoln U. Cody embodies the values and spirit of our organization, and we believe wholeheartedly in his ability to make an immediate impact on our quest for greatness.”
Hudson flies out of his seat, throwing both arms in the air, cheering for his teammate, and so does the other kid, Hunt. Cody is visually shocked, and the chick with him is beaming.
When Links holds up the jersey with his name on the back, Hud and his buddies finally quiet down then laugh as they watch their reactions being shown to the entire country.
Links smiles as he watches the monitors. “Welcome to the Knights family, kid. You are now a part of something that’s going to grow even bigger than any of us. Together, we’ll chase our collective dreams with unwavering determination. We’re going to build a legacy.”
Cohen speaks again. “To our fans, I urge you to join us in embracing this new, exciting chapter as we bring this team to a class it’s never known. Together, let’s rally behind our new players and the entire New York Knights roster.”
Links chuckles. “And to those who aren’t willing to embrace the change”—he holds up two fingers—“deuces.”
Cody graciously thanks them with his deliberately measured words.
After the first round is done, they go to break, and Hudson and the guys go absolutely nuts. I love this for Cody; he’s worked hard for it.
Before they start the second round, Hudson looks at me, and I know that look. He’s freaking out but doing a good job of hiding it.
“Wide receivers are typically rounds three through six, so strap in.”
He runs a hand through his hair and nods. “Thanks, man.”
The commissioner introduces the Knights for round two, and this time, three people walk out.
“Good evening. I’m Logan Links, and this is my wife, London. We’re also part owners of the New York Knights.”
London steps up, smiling. “We were told to be on better behavior than my father-in-law, Lucas.” She grins, holds up two fingers, and laughs. “We’re not going anywhere.”
Logan rolls his eyes. She looks at the other girl, and they both laugh.
“I’m Riley Brooks.” She quickly flashes two fingers with a little smirk then continues, “There are things that should always go together, like Logan and London here, peanut butter and jelly, and ham and pineapple on pizza.”
London makes a face at Riley, who grins.
Then Riley continues. She doesn’t have to, though, because I know exactly where this is going. One glance at the screen, and it’s obvious that our next pick’s teammates and coach do, as well.
“We might not all agree with the last example, but the owners and staff of the New York Knights all agree that there are few players in this year’s draft who have a kind of obvious chemistry that Hudson Hart and Cody Warren share.” My brother looks back at me in total shock as she keeps speaking. “The Knights are excited to announce our second-round pick for this NFL draft is also from Lincoln. Hudson Hart, welcome to the family.”
After all the cheering, hugs, and congratulations are shared, Hudson sits back down in his seat.
