Page 19 of Tangled with the Tight End

“He’s not you,” Delaney says. “Neither is McBride.”

“Thanks, man,” I say.

“Recovery’s a mental game,” Pierce says, staring at me with sincerity in his eyes. “Don’t let this take you out.”

“I’m not,” I say, fresh determination rising up inside me.

“We’ll be back as often as we can,” Pierce says. “Anything you want us to sneak in here, just shoot me a text.”

I chuckle. And then we’re all silent. Both their eyes land on my ankle.

“Thanks for coming by,” I say, needing to wrap this up.

I’m tired. And I don’t want any more focus on my injury today. It’s all I think about as it is.

“You’re still Thunder,” Pierce says.

“Thunder,” I say, making a fist and pounding my chest twice.

They return the gesture. “Thunder!” and they pound their chests.

The sound of the front door opening carries in to us and my mom and sister walk in the room.

Maeve asks, “Did we interrupt some ritual?” Her smile is teasing and aimed at me.

“We’re just trying to cheer him up,” Delaney says. “Good to see you, Mrs. O’Connell.”

“Good to see you boys too,” Mom says.

I introduce Maeve to the guys. “This is my sister.” And then I add, “She’s married.”

“The good ones always are,” Pierce says with a wink at her anyway.

“We’ll leave you to it,” Delaney says. “But we’re right here in town if you need anything.”

“Thanks,” I say.

They clap me on the shoulder and we say our goodbyes.

Mom and Maeve fawn over me, fluffing pillows, asking me if I’m comfortable, relocating the remote and turning on some home show.

“How long are you here?” I ask Mom.

“As long as you need me,” she says. “But I had planned to drive back this afternoon to grab some things so I can stay here.”

“It’s not necessary,” I assure her.

I’m not being tough. What’s she going to do? My leg just needs to heal. The team will send a therapist over regularly and a local home health nurse is supposed to arrive this afternoon. The team’s got eyes on me—more than I’m used to, and more than I really want at this point.

Mom assesses me. “I do have a few things this week I was going to cancel. Fundraising meetings. A luncheon. Bunco.”

“Don’t,” I tell her. “Maeve will pop in. If I need you for anything, I’ll call. And you and Dad can come up in a few weekends to check on me. If I thought you were needed, I’d tell you.”

“You’ll let me know how he’s doing?” Mom asks Maeve.

“Of course.”

They settle in, talking to one another. The meds start to make me feel a bit drowsy, so I close my eyes, their voices blend and I doze off.