Page 102 of Made Better Together

“Hey Connor,” Del says as I approach him and three other guys with clipboards. “Thanks for coming today.” After introductions to the rest of the coaches there, he explains the process.

“Jeremy and Ernie are going to be out here in a second. We’ll have you slot in with them. It shouldn’t be too different from practice at Princeton.”

Okay, wait…Am I the only person trying out?

“We have a couple of other guys we’re looking at,” Del continues like he can read my mind, “but we need to make a decision this week, so the process will move quickly.”

That’s a blessing, I suppose.

“I’m ready.”

“I know you are. I’m rooting for you, Battle.”

Jeremy and Ernie are nice enough at first, if a little standoffish. I don’t blame them, since I could be here for a day and then disappear.

But it’s a good fucking day. All those nerves? When I can finally redirect them into concentration on my form, everything comes together.

I make progressively longer and longer kicks, and their attitudes toward me relax.

When a forty-five-yard boot that hits dead center with plenty of room to spare, Jeremy offers a fist bump.

“Nice one. You played at Princeton, Del said?”

“Yeah, my last two years. Though I owe him for that fact. He taught me from scratch. I played soccer growing up.”

“A Battle playing soccer instead of football?” His brow raises.

“Long story,” I say with a smile. “Anyway, I guess I might owe him again.” I gesture to the field—to this opportunity.

“Nah. It doesn’t matter if you’re a Battle, or Del’s protégé, or whatever. In the NFL, you earn your spot.” He flashes a smile for the first time. “You’re doing a good job of that, so keep it up.”

Bolstered by praise, I attack the kicks with even more confidence, only missing one of the longer ones, a sixty-two-yarder.

Once they’re done with their practice, Ernie pats me on the back. “Hope we see you again.”

Me too.

While they head to the locker room, I run over to where Del and the other coaches are watching.

As soon as I see the grin on his face, my hopes start soaring for real.

“Great work out there, Connor.” Several of the others nod.

“Thanks.”

“We’d like to see you come for an afternoon of scrimmaging on the practice squad. With pads on, all of that. Wednesday work?”

I’ll make it work. But fuck, yeah, now I need to talk to Milo for real.

“Yes, absolutely.”

“Great, it’ll start at two. Please come an hour early so the equipment staff can find proper-fitting gear.”

“Sounds perfect. I’ll be here.”

Hell, I’ll probably be shuttled to the facility by Rawley or Landon first thing Wednesday morning once they get word.

Not that I’m going to complain. If anything, I’m fighting off the optimism spreading like melted butter across my chest.