Page 393 of Faking the Goal

Interest isn't a draft pick.

The seconds count down.

Taylor's fingers tighten around mine.

Mom reaches for my other hand. And suddenly I'm sitting here holding both of them while Miho leans forward beside Mom, staring at the stage so intensely she looks like she's trying to summon my name through sheer force of will.

Then the announcement begins.

"With the twenty-ninth selection in the NHL Draft, the Vegas Golden Knights are proud to select from Ridgewater University..." Everything inside me stops. "...goaltender Kentaro Azuma."

For one second, I don't move.

I don't think I even breathe.

They said my name.

Holy fuck.

They said my fucking name.

Taylor screams beside me.

"KEN-CHAN!"

She launches herself at me before my brain fully catches up, throwing both arms around my neck. I catch her automatically and bury my face against her shoulder as the noise around us crashes over me.

"You did it!" she cries against my ear. "Oh my God, Ken-chan, you fucking did it!"

A laugh tears out of me, half disbelieving and half something dangerously close to a fucking sob.

"I did it."

"You did it!"

I kiss her hard before remembering my mother is approximately twelve inches away.

Fuck it.

Mom is already crying anyway.

I turn and she immediately pulls me into her arms. She says something in Japanese against my shoulder, her voice breaking as she holds me tighter, and suddenly I'm ten years old again telling her that someday I'm going to play hockey professionally.

Except someday is here.

When she finally releases me, Miho practically tackles me.

"Vegas!" she shrieks. "You're going to fucking Vegas!"

"Language," Mom says through her tears.

Miho stares at her. "He just got drafted into the NHL."

Mom considers that.

"Fine. Tonight only."

I laugh so hard I have to wipe at my eyes.