Page 31 of Bluffed By the Offense

“Well, I’ll be dipped.”

She laughs. “Keep the southern drawl thing. And those idioms. They work.”

“They’re who I am, Kate.”

“All the better.”

“So, what now?” I ask.

“Now, you ride this second wave just like the first. Do not deny. Or … do. I don’t think it matters anymore at this point. The rumors have legs now. Even if you say you aren’t dating Cass Carter, I doubt they’ll believe you.”

“Just like the guys,” I say under my breath.

My own teammates delusionally assume there’s something there.

“I think you’re in a good position,” Kate says. “A few appearances at the charity Cass is setting up, and you’ll solidify your comeback where your reputation is concerned.”

“I don’t love using that charity as a way to bolster my image. What she’s doing is important.”

My thoughts flash back to the way Cass thought I was insulting her when I really am impressed. I can’t seem to win with her. Everything I do is perceived in a negative light.

“Well,” Kate says. “Good talk.”

She checked the box of touching base with me, so we say our goodbyes.

I chug the rest of my protein shake.

We’ve got football camp with the local youth today. It’s an annual tradition just before pre-season. I rinse my shaker and head out the door.

I arrive at the facility at the same time as some of my teammates. We walk in together, our laughter and conversation bouncing off the concrete walls and tiled floors. After some soft-tissue work with my trainer, I head out to the field for our usual practice. Only today, the stands are filled with families and kids.

We run through drills and position work, then we run some seven-on-seven and eleven-on-eleven plays.

Our coaches blow whistles, and then the youth clinic begins on the practice fields. Kids rotate through stations. Players split up to help the kids with passing, receiving, kicking, footwork, agility and tackling fundamentals.

I spend most of my time with local quarterbacks from youth football and the junior high and high school teams.

After the drills wind down, we take photos with the kids who came out and other fans who hold one of the two-thousand tickets for behind-the-scenes access to a day like this. The press is lined up on the sidelines.

While the fans file out of the bleachers, Candace, a reporter with ESPN, approaches me. “Delaney, how’s the season shaping up?”

“We’re feeling strong. It’s good to have O’Connell back this year.”

She smiles at me and I know what’s coming before the words are out of her mouth. “People saw your stranger photo shoot. And it went viral on the internet.”

“Yeah. That was quite the experience,” I say, shifting my weight, but keeping my smile secured in place.

“So … are you seeing her again?” Candace asks.

She’s with ESPN, not the Enquirer. This is what she wants to talk about? Even Cass has more interest in my stats.

At the thought of Cass, I see a brown-haired woman walking from the bleachers toward the field. She’s wearing a Thunder jersey and striding down the steps like she owns the place. I imagine it’s Cass. Then I blink. It is her. She’s with Winona, walking toward O’Connell.

I pivot slightly, hoping Candace won’t latch on to the fact that Cass is in the facility.

“Marcus?” Candace says.

“Yeah?”