Page 97 of Tangled with the Tight End

“Isn’t this your day off?”

“Technically?” I hedge.

She’s quiet.

“Yes.”

It is my day off. But I don’t care. I offered to drive him. He fought me on it. I told him it’s no big deal. He relented.

I pull into a space and kill the engine.

Cass doesn’t say anything else, but she’s sitting on the other end of the phone, stewing in unnecessary concern for me.

“Cass, I know this is going to be hard for you to wrap your brain around. And I know you’re just looking out for me. But Declan and I are … friends.”

Her silence stretches for a beat.

“He liked the goose, by the way,” I add.

“You’re kidding.”

“Would I kid about a goose?”

“You absolutely would not.”

“You don’t know Declan like I do,” I tell her.

“I’m starting to think no one knows him like you do.”

She has no idea what that thought does to me. Warmth fills me like I just drank a sip of hot apple cider on a chilly fall evening. The thing is, she might be right. Daisy doesn’t seem to know how fun and kind Declan can be. His parents for sure don’t. Maybe his teammates do.

I know him.

“I’ve gotta go,” I say.

“I just want you to know your worth,” Cass says.

“Minimum wage, baby,” I say with a laugh.

“Priceless,” she says. And then she says, “We need some sister time.”

“We do,” I agree. “What are you doing tonight?”

“Nothing.”

“I’m for sure free after dinner,” I tell her, purposely leaving that open on the off chance that Declan invites me to stay to eat with him.

“Because you have dinner plans?” she asks.

“I might,” I tell her. “Declan sometimes asks me to stay. That house is like a museum. I think he gets lonely.”

“He’s lucky to have you.”

“Thanks,” I say.

And for a moment, I believe her. Images of Declan leaning on me, looking up at me from the couch, calling my name when he needed my help all flood me. He needed me. And I was there for him when no one else was. Not Winona for Hire, who feels like her life is behind schedule while the rest of her friends are settled in careers and marriages. Me. Winona.

“He is lucky to have me,” I repeat, as if saying the words out loud will galvanize this growing sense of competence.