Page 235 of Tangled with the Tight End

“I did. I’m here for you. Always. Your biggest fan.”

He smiles.

Treyvon’s voice fills the stadium. “Okay, Thunder fans. Let’s all give it up for O’Connell and Winona!”

Declan laughs with me. He drops his forehead so it touches mine. I stare into his eyes, soaking up the feel of him.

The crowd erupts in cheers. Declan loops his arm behind me and we turn side-by-side, scanning the smiling faces around us and then looking up at the jumbotron at a larger-than-life digital reflection of us together.

I lean into him and he tugs me to his side more tightly.

The image on the jumbotron changes to celebration graphics with Thank You, Thunder Fans! flashing on the screen. Replay highlights roll and the crowd starts to pack up and make their way toward the exits.

Our friends step over, forming a semicircle around us, congratulating Declan and smiling at me.

A member of the coaching staff approaches Declan. “Declan, we've got to get you back.” He turns to me. “You’ll need this. I’m assuming you’re sticking around.”

I thank him, looping the family-access lanyard over my neck.

“I have to go,” Declan says.

He turns to me. “Wait for me.”

“Of course.”

He leans in for one more kiss and then he makes his way to the wall, giving a teen boy and then another few fans high fives along the way. Security helps him back over the wall and I watch as he disappears into the tunnel.

Cass turns to me. “Do you want me to wait for you?”

“You did this?” I ask her. Then I turn to our friends. “You were all in on this?”

They nod.

Cass says, “I’d do anything for you.” She laughs. “On the plus side, I still have my spleen.”

“Thank you.” I lean in and pull my sister into a hug. “And no. You can go. I’m pretty sure I have a ride home.”

“Okay. Call me if you need anything,” she says.

I make my way through the stadium, stopping to ask directions to the family room once, and then indulging myself by pausing at a souvenir and merch stand to buy a few things.

When I open the door to the family room, people are mingling, eating finger foods and drinking beverages from the bar in the corner. I order a soda and when I turn around, a man who’s the spitting image of Declan, only a quarter-century older approaches me, his wife at his side.

“Winona,” Mr. O’Connell says.

“Hello.”

“We’re so happy for you,” Mrs. O’Connell says, catching me off guard.

“Whatever makes Declan happy,” Mr. O’Connell says.

“I couldn’t agree more,” I tell him.

The televisions on several of the walls play the post-game commentary.

“Declan played so well,” I say, looking from his mom to his dad. “You must be proud.”

“He did his job,” his dad says.