24. Winona #2
Then she looks at me and Declan. “So what if he started eighty-six of his ninety-three NFL games. Do you care that he has had three hundred and nineteen career tackles? Seventeen interceptions? Fifty-two pass breakups? Five forced fumbles? Four sacks on safety blitzes? Or that his missed tackle rate is under seven percent?”
My mouth pops open.
Not only mine. Declan’s brows raise and Jaxon’s expression is dumbfounded.
“Oh yeah,” Cass says, her usual sassy, spirited demeanor obviously revived from temporary dormancy. “Quarterbacks think twice about throwing into his third of the field."
Jaxon finds his voice. “You know my stats.”
“Of course, I know your stats,” Cass says.
“Wow.” Jaxon shakes his head. “I’m honored.”
I lean back into Declan and he whispers into my hair. “That was impressive.”
I tip my head and glance up at him. “Right?”
Declan’s phone shows the front gate sliding open.
I jump up from the couch. “Patrick and Daisy are here.”
Cass looks at Jaxon. “Sorry about all that.”
“Are you kidding me?” he says. “People barely recognize me if I’m not wearing my jersey. I’m not the QB. I’m not a linebacker. The way you rattled off my stats? I’ll be replaying that moment for a while.”
I’m already in the foyer when I hear Cass answer Jaxon. “You can replay it,” she says. “As long as you delete ninety percent of what went on before that.”
Jaxon says, “Consider it done.”
I open the door to Daisy and Patrick. He’s holding a casserole dish.
“Hot spinach artichoke dip!” he announces.
Daisy steps in and wraps me in a hug.
I have this moment where I imagine this as my actual life—Declan and I sharing a home—not necessarily his childhood mansion, but somewhere—friends coming over on a Sunday afternoon to watch a game. Us all hanging out, eating snacks and laughing. Cass hopefully containing herself.
Only, Declan won’t be watching games during the seasons to come. He’ll be in them—with the exception of his bye week every year.
Still, the feeling lingers—this persistently hopeful feeling that Declan and I could last, and our worlds could mesh in a really beautiful way.
Patrick follows Daisy into the house.
“You can put that in the kitchen. The island has enough food to feed the team.”
“You’re at home here,” Daisy whispers.
“Funny, I just had that same thought,” I say, conspiratorially. “Maybe one day. It’s still new.”
I leave Patrick and Daisy to set the dip in the kitchen and return to my spot on the couch, comfortably nestled in Declan’s loose embrace. The sports analysis is still going on, but the game’s about to start.
“How’s that coming along?” Patrick asks Declan, pointing to his ankle.
“If all goes well, I’ll get the cast off in two to three weeks,” Declan says, beaming and giving my arm a squeeze.
What will it be like then? Will football take over his life?
Daisy and Patrick take the love seat and the game starts. With the exception of commercials and halftime, no one talks about anything. The only noises are our cheers and shouts at the television.
After the game, everyone leaves, and I linger, helping Declan to clean up.
“You know what I was thinking during the game?” Declan asks, swinging up behind me and wrapping his arms around my waist while I rinse the last of the dishes.
I pivot my head to look back at him. “That you wish Rhodes would have caught that deep ball in the fourth?”
He plants a kiss on my lips. “You have no idea what that does to me.”
“What?”
“When you talk football.”
I laugh, gently nudging my elbow back into his ribs.
“And yes, I’d have loved if Rhodes had caught that pass. But I was thinking about next year’s bye week.”
Declan hasn’t budged. He’s resting on his crutches, his chest flush to my back, chin on my shoulder.
I set the final serving platter in the drying rack and grab the towel to dry my hands. Then I spin around and face Declan, staring up into his eyes. He studies my face, his expression serious and tender. He doesn’t take his eyes off mine.
“Funny,” I say softly. “I was thinking about next year’s bye week tonight too.”
“Were you?” he trails his fingers down my cheek and then down my arm. “What were you thinking?”
Am I really going to admit this to him?
Also, what was I thinking? I can barely gather my thoughts with the tingling aftermath of Declan’s touch dancing over my skin.
“It was nothing, really,” I say. “I was just thinking that would be your only week off next year and it would be nice if we hosted everyone again—to watch a game.”
He hums and smiles at me, the corners of his eyes crinkling and his dimple popping.
“What were you thinking?” I ask.
“I want to take you somewhere you’ve never been before.”
“Like Arizona?” I tease. Although I wouldn’t mind going to Arizona.
“I was thinking more along the lines of St. Thomas,” he says.
“In the Caribbean?”
“Yes. I love snorkeling in a certain bay in St. John. You take the ferry from St. Thomas to get there. The water is so clear you can see straight through it. The fish are everywhere—all types. You’d love it.”
“Snorkeling?”
“You can swim, can’t you?” he asks.
“Yes, Declan. I can swim.”
“It would have been fine if you couldn’t. I would just have had to teach you.”
“Oh. In that case, maybe I can’t swim,” I say, smiling up at him. “Not at all. Teach me to swim, Declan.”
“As soon as my leg is better, we’ll start swim lessons.” He wags his brows.
Are we really talking about a year from now? Neither of us is flinching or acting surprised.
“So, fish?” I ask.
“So many fish.”
“What kinds?”
His face lights up. “It’s like someone dumped an aquarium in the clearest water you’ve ever seen.
So many colors and eccentric-looking fish.
The place I go is a coral reef. There are electric-blue angelfish.
Yellow goatfish. Bright orange flame fish.
The porcupine fish blows itself up like a spiky tan beach ball.
The iridescent parrotfish looks like it has teeth … ”
I barely noticed that I had closed my eyes, imagining every fish as Declan described it, until he said teeth. My eyes pop open.
“Here,” Declan says, tugging his cell out of his pocket. “I’ve got an underwater video from last year.”
He opens his photos app and types in Caribbean. The screen fills with photos of island life. Sunsets. Boat rides. He swipes quickly to the video he wants to show me. Then he hands me his phone and I watch, my eyes wide and a smile on my face.
“This is real?” I ask. “And we’re waiting for bye week because … ?”
Declan laughs. “Okay. Maybe we should bump up these plans.”
When I hand him his cell, he pockets it and steps back, pivoting toward the living room. “I should put my leg up.”
“I didn’t even have to tell you. Good job,” I say. “Are you feeling okay?”
“Yeah. I’m good.”
I follow him out of the kitchen, flicking the light switch and joining him in the front room.
Declan reclines on the couch, so I take the chair Jaxon was sitting in.
“There’s this boat I like to charter in St. Thomas,” he says. “The guys and I took it out one year and I’ve been chartering it ever since.”
“Do you fish?”
“Sometimes. Mostly I just like going out on the ocean for the day.” He smiles as if he’s picturing it right now. Then he says, “I have a place there.” He turns his head to look at me and adds, “It’s not much.”
“You have a place. In St. Thomas. And this is just coming up?”
“It’s my getaway. A vacation home.”
“A whole extra house?”
“Yes. It’s not huge.”
“You don’t have to talk it down, Declan. I’d have an extra house in the Caribbean if I could. Maybe one in some winter wonderland too.”
“Well …”
“Staaaahhhp!” I shout, bursting into laughter. “You have a third house?”
“Condo. In Vail.”
“Declan O’Connell.” I shake my head.
“Too much?”
I stand and walk over to the couch, snuggling in beside him. He wraps his arm around me.
“No. It’s not too much. It’s crazy. But you’ve earned it. You put your body on the line and you work hard. Buy as many houses as you like.”
He leans in and places a soft kiss on my lips. “Thanks.”
“For what?”
“Just for being you.”
“I don’t know how to be anyone else.”
“I’m glad.”
We’re quiet for a while. He runs his hand over my arms and back, tracing lazy little patterns.
After a while, I ask, “So … how many houses are we talking about here, exactly?”
He just laughs.