Page 81 of Tangled with the Tight End

“Daisy gave me three weeks off. She said your needs were more important. She’s got other part-timers and volunteers.”

I stare out the window at the wide grassland off to the side of the two-lane road. My chest fills with a slightly uncomfortable warmth. My sister-in-law made allowances for me. And I didn’t even know.

Football keeps me on the go. I live in a bubble, surrounded by other professional athletes, coaches and staff. I’ve let my family sit on a back burner.

Winona turns on the radio and starts singing along to an old Fleetwood Mac song.

She makes me want things.

“Come on, Declan. Sing with me,” she says between lines.

I could protest. But I don’t. I join in, softly, not belting it out like I do when I’m alone.

She smiles over at me and I press my palms into my thighs. The urge to reach out and run my hand down her cheek takes me by surprise. What would she do? Am I in this alone? If so, I need to reel it in and get a hold of myself.

We pull into the parking lot. Winona grabs my crutches and then she reaches into the back seat and grabs out a cardboard box.

“How many invitations are we talking?” I ask.

“Two hundred!” She groans. “It’s okay. I’m getting paid. And it’s helping the bride relax.”

“You’re a saint,” I say.

“Yeah. Saint Winona,” she says. “That’s me.”

I lead Winona to an empty office with a wide wooden desk and a high-back leather chair in the corner. She looks around the room, plops down on the floor and dumps the contents of the box in front of her.

“I work better when I sprawl out,” she says, looking up at me and then back down at the array of paper and pens scattered in front of her.

She hums to herself while making loosely piled stacks of envelopes, and then she grabs the sheets of paper with addresses.

The words slip out of me. “I love it.”

Her head snaps up, a questioning expression on her face.

“I love how you’re not bound by convention,” I clarify. “It’s refreshing.”

“I’m definitely not.”

“Well, I’d better get to it.”

“You know where to find me,” she says, waving her hands across the scattered cards.

“And you know where to find me. I’ll either be in the gym or the treatment room. They’re doing e-stim. I’ll come get you before I sit in on meetings with the coaches.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“If you need to leave, just text me. I can get a ride home.”

“I’ll be here, Declan. Now go work out. You’re getting flabby.”

She can’t even keep a straight face when she sees me flex in response to her faux criticism.

“See you in a few hours,” I say, shutting the door behind myself and propelling into the hallway with a smile that won’t quit.

“Hey, Dec!” Jaxon’s voice booms through the hall. He jogs over, leaning in to clap me on the back.

“How’s it goin’?” I ask him.