Page 34 of Tangled with the Tight End

“I’m Winona. Who are you?”

He chuckles. “I’m Marcus. But my friends call me Delaney.”

“How’d they come up with Delaney as a nickname for Marcus?” Winona asks. “I could see a few more logical choices—Mark, M, even Cus, though I don’t think that one’s very complimentary.”

Delaney chuckles. “It’s my last name.”

“Oh!” Winona smiles widely. “Well, that makes a whole lot more sense.”

“It does,” Marcus says, sizing her up in a way that makes me want to stand and hobble over next to her. She’s my nurse’s aide. Not … whatever he might be thinking she is.

“This is Linc. And this is Jaxon,” Delaney says.

“Nice to meet you.” Winona smiles at each of them. Then she asks, “Is Linc your last name?”

Linc laughs softly. “No. My name is Lincoln. They call me Linc.”

“Now that makes sense,” Winona says. Then she turns, taking the pie and soup with her to the kitchen.

While she’s out of the room, my friends make themselves comfortable.

Dad clears his throat. “If you want us to look into other caregivers, I can have someone come up from Nashville to stay with you.”

No. That’s not what I want.

“Heaven knows this town only goes so far in offering quality,” Dad says.

His relationship with Waterford is complex. He grew up here—raised his family here. And then he moved on to Nashville where he grew his business to be one of the most prominent development companies in the state. He wants to support Waterford, but that support always comes in the form of criticism and suggestions for development rather than appreciation of what the town already has to offer.

“I’m fine with Winona for now,” I tell him.

He doesn’t say anything else.

Winona doesn’t come back right away. The guys start talking about practice. I’m glad they’re here, but the conversation is bittersweet—bitter because I’m not where I should be, but sweet because they care enough to come over and try to include me. It’s not easy for them to get away during the season. They’ve got practice and treatment and workouts, film review, and meetings with coaches.

After a while, Winona rejoins us, hanging back and keeping an eye on me.

I glance up to see her leaned against the archway leading into the room, a soft smile on her face.

My dad stands. “Well, your mother and I better head out. We’ve got some appointments to get to.”

“Thanks for coming by,” I tell him.

Dad’s lips thin into a resolute almost-grin. “We’re rooting for you, Declan.”

Mom walks over, carefully placing a light kiss on my forehead and staring down at me. “Let me know what you need. I’ll arrange for whatever it is.”

The guys take my dad’s words as a cue and they stand too. “We’ve got to get to practice.”

I nod.

They move like athletes through the room—large, looming presences with the agility of jungle cats. The room is twice the size of a normal front room, but their combined presence shrinks the space. I glance down at my ankle and back up at them.

“We’ll come again when we can,” Jaxon says. Delaney and Linc nod in agreement.

“I know,” I tell them.

Visiting me is a sacrifice, and not only because we’re in season. Seeing me is a reminder of what could happen to any one of them. I’m a cautionary tale—one no one wants to read.