Page 224 of Tangled with the Tight End

“Hunny, you’re not making a whole lot of sense,” Mom says.

“Winona,” I say. “I love her.”

Silence.

“She’s not like Ginger,” I say, unable to stop now that I’ve started. “She’s the furthest thing from Ginger. If you gave her a chance, you’d see. ”

“We had no idea,” Mom says.

“I know. And that’s my fault. I didn’t fight hard enough for what we had.”

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” Mom says. “Truly. We had no idea what she meant to you.”

“I know. I don’t know if I messed this up beyond repair.”

“Trust me,” Dad says, surprising me by speaking. “Nothing is beyond repair. Take it from a man who does demolition and construction for a living.”

“So you’re open to giving her a chance?” I ask.

Not that it matters. If Winona gives me another chance, I’m taking her back whether my parents approve or not.

“If she means this much to you, that’s all we want,” Mom says. “We just want to see you happy, Declan.”

“Of course you can win her back,” Dad says. “You’re Declan O’Connell.”

It’s not an endorsement of his future acceptance, but it’s something.

Winona turns down a block and keeps walking, out of my sight, away from me.

“I hope you’re right,” I say. “And thanks. The game was good. The Thunder pulled that win as a team.”

“We’re proud of you, hunny,” Mom says.

Dad doesn’t say anything else. We hang up and I drive the rest of the way home.

The next ten days, I practically live at the facility—meetings, watching film, talking strategy, treatments, workouts. I come home to a dark house, eat my dinner, watch sports commentary and fall into bed.

Two days before our first playoff game, I come in from a half-day at the facility. I throw my keys in the bowl on the entry table and walk into the kitchen. Darlene nearly scares me to death when she appears out of the pantry, carrying a cloth and some cleaning spray.

“Is it true?” she asks.

“The breakup? Yeah.”

Small towns. Practically as bad as the internet when it comes to gossip.

Darlene crosses her arms. Her expression is tempered with her usual compassion. “You’re a big man, Declan. And you’ve gotten used to having your way. You don’t get too full of yourself, all things considered. But in this case, I’m going to have to take issue with you.”

I’m silent. When Darlene has something to say, it’s best to keep your mouth shut and listen.

“You’re not the Almighty. You might be able to stop a three-hundred-pound man on the football field, but no one can stop a rumor. The truth’s just tying its laces by the time the rumor’s run halfway round the world.”

I nod. “Thanks, Darlene.”

It’s nothing I don’t know. I couldn’t stop the rumors so I did what I thought was best. I already know I messed up. I’ve been hatching a plan for over a week.

“Now. You want to know what I think?” Darlene asks me.

“You’re going to tell me either way.”