Page 152 of Tangled with the Tight End

“Team’s looking good,” Dad says. “Of course, your absence is felt.”

“They’re doing well,” I agree.

“We know some specialists in Nashville, if you want to see someone for a second opinion.”

“I’m good, Dad. The Thunder hires the best.”

“Yes. I imagine they do. Those men and women have to settle around here to work for the team.” He says it as if it’s a sacrifice to live near Waterford.

“I haven’t heard any complaints,” I say.

“Well, you wouldn’t.” He shifts the topic. “Are you attending strategy meetings? Watching film?”

Dad walks toward the front room. His steps falter when his eyes land on Winona. She’s sitting in the oversized chair next to the couch, her legs tucked up under her, eyes fixed on the game.

“I’m in the facility three times a week,” I say.

“Three times? Is that enough?” Dad asks.

“Rest is as important as exercise in the healing process,” Winona says, confidently.

Her head turns toward my parents. “Hi, Mr. and Mrs. O’Connell. It’s good to see you again.”

“Winifred?” Dad asks.

“It’s Winona, dear,” Mom corrects him. “Like the singer.”

“That’s right,” she says, beaming at my parents. “My mom was a big fan of Wynonna Judd. Only she found out the spelling was off after my birth certificate was finalized. So, I’m named after her, but only in sound. And I can’t sing like she can. Not even close.”

Winona smiles brightly. My parents stare at her.

Then Mom says, “Well, isn’t that lovely,” in a tone that isn’t as convincing as she might think.

“Personally, I’m more of a Miranda Lambert girl myself,” Winona adds.

Mom nods. Dad crosses his arms.

Well. This is going great so far.

“Who’s playing?” Dad asks, settling into one of the other chairs.

“OSU and USC,” I say.

“OSU has a deep roster,” Winona says. “Full of talent. The guys on SportsCenter were discussing it this week. But USC relies on big plays. They bring the fireworks. It’s two different styles of play. Makes for a fun game.”

Dad’s mouth literally pops open. He shuts it just as quickly.

I try to bite back my smile. If Winona is anything, it’s full of surprises.

I make my way back to the couch to elevate my foot.

Mom asks Winona, “Oh. So you’re a football fan?”

“Well, I wasn’t. Declan has gotten me into the sport. He’s a great teacher.”

She looks over at me with a fondness that fills my chest with a warm lightness. A nearly irresistible pull tugs me toward Winona. She’s too far away. My fingers itch to touch her. I want to hold her and whisper into her hair how sexy she is when she’s spouting off football facts.

If my parents can’t read the room, they’re turning a blind eye.