Page 2 of Tangled with the Tight End

Our combined, “Yes,” “Yes,” “Yes,” and Cass’s “Are you kidding me? You don’t have to ask,” all overlap as we gather around Emberleigh and she places our hands one-by-one over her abdomen.

The baby kicks feel like flutters and pulses under my palm. My eyes meet Emberleigh’s and we exchange smiles.

“Amazing,” I say on a breath.

“It’s wild,” she says. Her eyes are soft and dreamy. Then she chuckles. “It’s the most beautiful experience ... when the baby's not sitting on my sciatic nerve and I’m not rushing to the bathroom ten times a night.”

We all laugh. Emberleigh’s the first in our group to get pregnant. I’m living vicariously through her. I’d want nothing more in life than to be a mom. Of course, I’m missing the main ingredient for that recipe: a man who loves me.

I shake off my dreams of motherhood and join my friends, chatting as we put the chairs back in order, clearing snack plates and drink cups and slowly making our way to the front of the shop.

I take the leftover baked goods to bring to Sycamore Assisted Living in the morning. Then my sister, Cass, and I drive home to the house we’ve shared since we moved out of our childhood home.

We’re brushing our teeth before bed. Cass looks over at me. “Have you been assigned a new patient yet?”

“No. I’m on the waitlist for whoever needs home health next.”

“Does that make you antsy?”

“What?”

“Never knowing what’s next.”

“None of us know what’s next, Cass.” My words come out around my toothpaste.

I spit and rinse my mouth.

“Okay, Miss Philosopher,” she smiles warmly at me in the mirror.

“I actually love the variety,” I tell her. “Never knowing what’s next, always having to adapt to a new situation. It keeps life interesting.”

She leans in, wrapping her arm around my shoulder and giving a squeeze. “And that’s what I love about you.” She giggles lightly. “That and the look on your face when Daisy told us we were going to the Thunder football practice.”

“Was I that obvious?” I grimace.

“No. Only a little. I might have been the only one to pick up on it.”

“I want to be excited. But watching men in tights run around chasing a ball? No. Scratch that. Watching them run around practicing chasing a ball. I don’t get the part that’s exciting.” I turn to catch her mystified expression. “Except hanging out with all of you. That’s always fun.”

“Just wait,” she assures me. “You’re going to love it. Besides, they have nachos.”

“At the practices?”

“Mmmm. Maybe not. We’ll bring snacks, okay?”

“I’m warming up to the idea. What kind of snacks?”

“Men in tights,” she mutters, shaking her head and laughing. “Only you, Winona.”

Two days later, I’m riding shotgun down one of the two-lane roads leading out of Waterford. The practice facility for the Thunder is about twenty-five minutes outside town where there’s nothing but stretches of flat fields for days.

“This isn’t even the stadium where they play games?” I ask when Cass parks in the parking lot.

I probably sound small-town as all get out, but I honestly can’t wrap my brain around building something this massive just for practicing a sport.

“No. They have a whole other stadium for games.”

“Wow.”