Total pages in book: 121
Estimated words: 115577 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 578(@200wpm)___ 462(@250wpm)___ 385(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 115577 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 578(@200wpm)___ 462(@250wpm)___ 385(@300wpm)
My sister went from a kid with a cough to almost completely paralyzed in the span of hours, a three-letter acronym for a neurological disease hitting our family like a semi-truck.
I was fourteen.
The year following had been a blur of hospital stays and rehab, and we learned the hard-to-swallow truth.
There was no cure.
Our way of life changed so drastically I couldn’t even remember what it was like before. Mom quit her job as an administrative assistant to be a full-time caretaker for Ginny. Dad picked up a second job to make ends meet, balancing as best he could between his nine-to-five insurance gig and bartending in the evenings. And still, even with insurance, the medical bills piled up.
I felt helpless.
But that was my freshman year of high school. That was the year I started playing football seriously, not just for fun. And when my coach saw how much playing saved my mental health, he threw his all into me just like I threw my all into the team.
And I made a vow to myself and to my family that year.
I vowed that I’d work my ass off to be not just good at football, but great. I promised I would play in college, get Name, Image, and Likeness deals, and one day sign a contract with a team in the NFL.
I would help my family. I would make it so a medical bill wouldn’t be the source of my mom’s tears, so that we’d never have to worry about Ginny’s care. It would be the best care money could buy, I’d make sure of it.
And I had.
I transferred to North Boston University my sophomore year of college and immediately made a name for myself. Ever since then, I’d been sending nearly every penny I earned to my parents.
Including my signing bonus last year.
It wasn’t as flashy as my friends’ had been. Holden, Clay, Kyle, Leo… they all went within the first two rounds to teams willing to pay. I was a later round draft, but I’d made it — and that three-million dollars had felt life changing when I took it.
Something they don’t tell you, though, is that the number on that check isn’t exactly what you get.
There are taxes, agent fees, union dues, and more fine line items that slowly drain that money before you even get the chance to cash the check. I paid off my parents’ house, made sure medical bills for Ginny were covered for a couple years, and then took what I had left and hired a financial advisor to help me invest it.
Every rookie drafted into the NFL got a four-year contract, so I was set with a salary for at least three more seasons. But after that, the money a team would pay for me would all depend on how I played these next few years.
I had a lot to prove — and I’d do it.
I’d do anything to make sure my family never had to worry again.
Mom, Ginny, and I talked on the phone while Sebastian played until I knew it was close to dinner time and I needed to get him home. He was wound up in the car, still buzzing off the new friends he’d made, and he barreled inside the house as soon as we pulled up.
Kyle had purchased a massive, stunning mansion in Magnolia with a view of the water and city that couldn’t be beat. The old him probably would have turned it into a party house, but as it was, I walked in to find Sebastian cooing over his new baby sister in his mom’s arms, Kyle watching over it all like a proud papa bear.
“She sleeps a lot,” Sebastian remarked of Raven, the tiny little bundle of human being wrapped in a blanket.
“Can you believe you used to be this little?” Madelyn asked Sebastian.
“No!” He laughed as if his mom were crazy, and I slid my shoes off at the door, smirking a little as I made my way over to the sectional and plopped down.
“Well, you were,” Madelyn said, thumbing through her phone to find pics to prove it. Sebastian laid his head on her chest, pointing and laughing at each photo she showed him.
“Have fun?” Kyle asked me, and the way the jerk was grinning, I knew I looked as tired as I felt.
“That kid has more energy than a hundred Energizer bunnies.”
“Makes you feel old, doesn’t it?”
“Makes me feel like I need to get back on the field. Clearly, I’m out of shape if I can’t even chase a seven-year-old around the park for a few hours.” I nodded on a smile over at my best friend, the one who’d tried so hard not to be friends with any of us when we were at North Boston University. It was crazy to see him as a devoted father now, considering what a little prick he’d been back then. “How’s she doing?”