Chapter One
Blaze
I don’t remember much about what happened to me in my first game as a college athlete.
I remember the pain.
The searing, blinding pain.
And then it all seemed to go dark.
After years of waiting, practicing, and training, it was finally here.
I was taking my place among the ranks of the other Trist brothers.
There was a lot of pressure on me to perform, but I wasn’t scared of it. I was born for it.
I watched my half-brother, Rayn, get drafted into the NFL this past year.
I watched my brother Zephyr, with NFL aspirations of his own, beat records at Hartford and earn the nickname of “Brady Jr.” Although, if you ask me, Tom’s got nothing on Zeph. But I’m slightly biased.
With a legacy like that, I have to be ten times better than they expect.
I have to be impenetrable.
Camp was brutal, carrying around the Trist name. As a tight end, I got to practice with Zephyr, and anytime he threw me the ball, I had to make it count.
I guess I did my job well because Coach trusted me to start in our season opener.
I was ready. I felt ready.
Mom was there in the stadium to cheer on me and Zeph. She told me that she was proud of me and I carried around that pride like a badge of honor.
It happened just before halftime.
The game had been going our way. I got two catches from Zephyr, running it for a collective 52 yards.
I was blocking on this play.
The play that took me down.
In one moment, I went from being vertical, arms and hands all over number 12, clearing a path for our running back.
And in the next?
I was flat out on the field, leg searing in pain.
Something tore.
Something felt like liquid fire in my veins.
The rest of the day was a flurry of action that was out of my reach.
I was surrounded by coaches and doctors.
I was on a stretcher.
I was lost in the dark.