Page 128 of The Trophy

Of course I’m worried sick about Lakyn. If we lost her for good, I don’t think I could take it.

There’s also tomorrow’s game hanging in the balance though. I have a lot more riding on it than Blaze and Luca. Especially if the Bridgeport Warriors decided to pass on signing us after today’s scandal, I’d need to take my chances in the draft in June. Going pro is still my best chance to give my family the future they deserve and I can’t let that chance slip through my fingers.

Fuck.

I really hope that Bridgeport works out for us and that we get to play there and live with our girl, like we dreamed of.

I should text my agent and ask him to touch base with the Warriors and see what they’re thinking about our situation.

If not, things will get more complicated but I can’t let myself think about that now, I need to focus on what I can control.

After sending the text to my agent, I decide to do just that and get started on my good luck ritual that has proven infallible before every important game. Every time I don’t do it, we end up losing, so in a way, I’m glad I’m here rather than at Mom’s.

I keep my eye on my phone in case Blaze or Luca have more luck than I had in finding Lakyn, but I take Dad’s old Bridgeport Warriors duffel bag out of my closet.

Coach Harrison demands that on game days we arrive at the arena in our dark blue suits with the Cove Knights logo on the lapel, but he can’t control what I wear underneath.

I walk over to my dresser to find my lucky underwear, which I wore for every game I’ve ever won. I swear to God, these boxer briefs have great juju.

The other item I can’t do without during an important game, is an old t-shirt that belonged to my dad.

It says Star Cove Community College and it was his favorite t-shirt. Every time I wear it, I feel like he’s by my side, protecting the crease and guiding my instincts.

There’s a second of panic when my fingers don’t find the soft cotton on the left hand side of my dresser’s top drawer.

“Shit.” I breathe a sigh of relief when I see a corner of it peaking out under one of my undershirts. I hug the shirt to my chest, inhaling its scent as if I could still smell my dad, even though I know it’s foolish because it has been washed countless times since the last time Dad wore it.

“I wish you could give me a sign, Dad,” I whisper. “Any sign that everything will work out in the end. My career, school, Lake.”

A small piece of paper falls out on the floor as I unfold the t-shirt to fold it back in a neater way, so that it fits better in my bag.

I bend to pick it up, promising myself that I’ll give this place a good tidying up after tomorrow’s game.

I should really stop throwing random shit in my drawers, I think looking at the square piece of paper.

At first, I don’t focus on the few sentences printed on it, my first instinct is to ball it up and toss it into the trash can by my desk.

I don’t know what stops me from doing that, though.

“What the fuck is this?”

Success is imminent, your hard work will pay off.

Family isn’t necessarily dictated by blood.

Who dares wins.

Sharing is caring.

This is that ridiculous prediction I got from The Mouth of Truth at the pier, during my first date with Lake.

It has only been just over six months since that night, and yet it feels like forever ago.

I smile at the thought that Lakyn and I discussed how stupid this stuff sounds, how these predictions don’t even make any sense half the time. They don’t even pre-program enough options so that two predictions that have been drawn at the same time are totally different.

Lake’s prediction also said Sharing is caring.

Wait a second…

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