Page 208 of Tangled with the Tight End

“Thanks.”

“You made it back.”

“Yep.”

“I’m actually calling about another matter.”

“What is it?”

“The nurse.”

“Winona?”

“Yes.”

“You need to end this, Declan. You’ve had your fun. The media should be focusing on your return. Instead, you’re in the middle of another frenzy over a woman. Cut her loose. You need to focus on the game and salvage your image.”

Dad never was one to mince words. He became one of the most successful and dominant developers in Tennessee because he cuts to the chase.

“You don’t know her,” I say. “You can’t just direct my private life.”

“I’m not trying to direct you, Declan. But sometimes, as men, we get swept up in something. A woman can blind us to the bigger picture. So, as someone on the sidelines, I have a different view of the field. I’m telling you, she’s in your blind spot. You need to end this.”

For some inexplicable reason, my mind flashes to the conversation where Winona told me I was like my dad and then she turned that into a compliment of both of us. Only Winona could plainly see the flaws in a person, but still come out saying one of the nicest things anyone ever said about them.

“I’ll make my own decisions where she’s concerned.”

I already made my decision.

My dad and his paranoia and single-minded focus on achievement doesn’t have any say in what I do or don’t do with Winona.

“Choose wisely, Declan. You were out on injury all season. You came back strong, but the Thunder will be looking at contracts between seasons. You don’t want this cloud over you after a year on injured reserves.”

“You’ve said your piece,” I say. And then it’s like Winona’s standing in the room, smiling softly at me, silently encouraging me to be nice to my dad. “Thanks for caring about all that,” I add.

“Your mom wants to talk to you,” Dad says, aware I’m about to cut the call and say goodbye.

“Pulling out the big guns?” I mutter.

“Your mother is not the big guns. She’s your mom.”

“Right. Yes. You’re right.”

“Declan,” Dad says before handing the phone to Mom. “I know I came across as blunt. It is what it is. I’m calling because I care.”

“I know, Dad.” I don’t thank him.

I’m not exactly grateful that my dad called the evening of my first return game to order me to call things off with the woman I love.

I do see his heart behind his approach. And, ironically, I have Winona to thank for my increased compassion.

My dad doesn’t even say goodbye. Next thing I know, Mom’s on the phone.

“Declan, sweetheart. We’re so proud. You played a great game.”

“Thanks, Mom.”

“How’s your ankle feeling?”