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“I have no idea what to say, other than thank you. Thank you to my family for all their support. My brother, Roman.” He pounds a fist to his chest and points at me. “To my coaches through the years, especially this one.” He points to his college coach, who is wiping away tears again. “And a huge thank you to the New York Knights. Cody and I will not let you down.” He holds up two fingers, and we all bust up. “And we won’t let the faithful fans of the Knights down, either. Hell, we’ll bring a few more to join you.”
* * *
We watched the whole damn draft, and during commercials, their agent officially now, Drew Daniels, had reporters all lined up and was adding them to different chats for interviews. It wasn’t until the draft was over that the owners of the Knights popped on and offered Hunt a place on the team, too. Not gonna lie; I knew what he had been feeling before that, like everything he worked for was wasted. I was almost as happy for him as I was for Hudson … almost.
As they all say their goodbyes for the night, I stand to start cleaning up so Mom doesn’t have to. Then we all go to bed for the night because tomorrow is going to be a long day with virtual contract negotiations.
Before I retire for the night, I make damn sure Hudson knows how proud I am of him.
He tears up. “Bro, the sky’s the limit now. Take a year off from teaching. Go back and get your Master’s so you can make more. Hell, get a whole new degree so you can stop teaching and coaching at the center. I can handle the bills now, man. It’s my turn to support this family.”
“The truth is, I love teaching and coaching—maybe not this virtual shit, but I’m happy. I’m good. Just make sure you get Mom, Jillian, Granny, and me tickets to every damn game, including the Super Bowl.”
“I’m gonna buy us a huge house in New York. You can teach there.”
“I’m so fucking proud of you.”
* * *
“Rome,” Hudson says, shaking me.
I slowly open my eyes and see it’s still dark. “Bro, I’m stoked for you, but the sun has yet to rise.”
“You have an interview request.”
I roll over, giving him my back. “Tell that hot-ass agent to schedule shit after the damn sun comes up.”
I hear deep laughter. It’s not from Hud, and it’s certainly not Mom.
“Hudson, if you have me on IG or one of your social media channels, that’s a really bad idea, and there will be consequences,” I warn.
“Roman Hart, we just have a couple of questions, and then we’ll let you get back to your beauty sleep.”
Fucking annoyed, I move to my back and shoot daggers out of my eyes at Hud as I sit up and take the phone he’s all but shoving in my face.
Looking at the screen, I see four men in maybe their forties—fuck, I don’t know; I suck at guessing ages—sitting in a conference room, and then I see the time. Six thirty in the damn morning.
“He’s got good hair,” the man with blue eye speaks.
“Nice shoulders, too,” the man with the red tie nods.
Uh-uh, nope, this shit is not happening.
“Look, gentlemen, it’s six thirty in the morning, and as you can imagine, we were up pretty late last night, celebrating my brother’s accomplishment.”
“Nice voice, too,” Blue Eyes adds.
“All right, this is a bit odd, so if you want an interview, you might want to start asking questions, yeah? And you might want to hurry up because I’m getting feet pic request vibes, and I’m not down with that.”
Red Tie grins as he smacks his hands together and rubs them. “Yep, I want him.”
“Okay, hitting End.” I move my finger over the screen.
The biggest of the men narrows his eyes. “Tell us, how does it feel to have your kid brother going pro?”
I arch a brow, waiting for one of the four to say some stupid shit.
“Bro, answer,” Hudson whispers.
