39. Winona
Winona
The more difficult the victory,
the greater the happiness in winning.
~ Pelé
The third quarter is relatively uneventful. The coaches are obviously playing it safe. It’s probably a good call. No one needs theatrics in a game this critical. We’ll save the big plays for desperate times or the final minutes of the game, if needed.
Declan catches another pass over the middle, and I cheer right along with everyone around me.
The Thunder’s inside the red zone with less than twenty yards to make a touchdown. The noise of the crowd amplifies to a roar.
Delaney pulls back and fires a bullet straight into Declan’s hands. Declan takes off running, pivoting away from a Packer defensive player. Another Packer is catching up, but Declan digs in and bursts over the goal line.
“Touchdown!” I shout, jumping out of my chair and cheering until my throat feels raspy.
The stadium erupts around me. Cheers and chants of “Go, Thunder!” and “O-Con-nell!” rise up from the crowd.
Declan does a touchdown dance and I smile. A sob catches in my throat—not from sadness, or at least, not only the pain of losing him.
He’s playing. Doing what he loves. And he’s beautiful.
I can’t take my eyes off him.
No matter what happens, I will always love him.
And watching him today is a gift.
As he's jogging back toward the sideline, Declan glances toward our section and points. A smile breaks out on his face, so wide I can see it through his face mask.
I freeze.
Did he see me? Or was he just pointing into the stands, sharing his joy with the fans?
There are thousands of people here. He couldn't possibly have noticed me.
I glance at my sister. She’s smiling. Maybe because of the touchdown. Maybe she saw Declan point in our direction too.
Our defense takes the field. The Packers can’t get past the forty-yard line. They end up making the field goal. The third quarter ends and we’re still ahead by four points—Declan’s touchdown gave us the edge.
In the fourth quarter, no one’s scoring. Both defenses show up and hold the line.
We get possession with two minutes left on the clock.
Unless the Packers make an interception or get the ball with enough time on the clock to pull an offsides kick or some other Hail Mary play, the Thunder is set to win the game.
“We have to run down the clock,” I tell Cass, not taking my eyes off the field.
“Yes, Coach Carter, we do.” She laughs at her own joke.
As I anticipated, we play a running game, and we gain some yards. It’s third and eight. We’re close enough to the end zone to make a field goal.
The Packers call their final time out. Delaney jogs over to Coach Griffin, the offensive coordinator. They exchange some quick words and then our offense huddles. My eyes are riveted on Declan. I can’t imagine what he’s feeling right now.
“I’d go for it,” I tell Cass. “They could play it safe. But if they can make a scoring play, it’s cinched.”
“I love that you know that,” she says. “They might just play it conservative and run the ball and take a field goal. That still would give us a seven point lead.”
“A lead that will disappear if the Packers make a touchdown. I think we need to take the risk.”
“You two sound like those announcers on TV,” Daisy says with a smile.
I stare at Declan as he lines up with the rest of the offensive line.
The crowd falls silent and then the ball is snapped. Delaney turns toward Linc and literally sticks the ball into his stomach like he's handing it off. I think Linc has the ball and then I realize he doesn’t.
I whisper under my breath, “Play action pass.” They’re basically faking out the Packers.
Linc acts like he has the ball and keeps running.
The linebackers see Linc and charge him.
It’s working!
Delaney still has the ball. He pulls back and looks up. My eyes flick to Declan. This is where a tight end earns his paycheck.
Declan’s pretending to block the defense, but when Delaney moves to make the pass, Declan slips off the line and runs his route. Because the defenders were distracted by Linc, there’s a hole behind Declan.
Delaney fires the ball straight into Declan’s arms. He turns and sprints toward the end zone and makes his second touchdown, clinching the win for the Thunder.
I’m on my feet, shouting and throwing my fist in the air. Cass grabs me and we jump in place, the blanket falling to our feet. Tears stream down my face. I’m flooded with emotions.
He won!
We won!
I can only watch him from a distance now.
He’s not mine.
But in my heart he’s still mine. He always will be.
I can’t imagine a day I won’t love Declan O’Connell with everything I am.
Daisy and Emberleigh, Patrick and Syd are all jumping around too.
The Jumbotron flashes an image of Declan, sweaty and smiling.
He whips off his helmet and takes a mic from someone.
The crowd is still going nuts, shouting and whooping. Thunder players are all in the end zone slapping one another on the backs and rears, hugging and doing celebratory dances.
Declan looks in our direction. He’s about thirty yards away, and I see him on the screen, but then my eyes drop to watch him in person.
Declan lifts the microphone. His voice booms through the stadium. “Thunder Nation!”
The stadium explodes in one unified chant. “Go Thunder!”
The cry rolls through the stands, followed by the familiar rhythmic stomping that builds to a rumble beneath our feet. “We are Thunder!” someone shouts behind me.
The people around him join in, chanting “We. Are. Thunder.” in unison to our stomps. Across from us, Packers fans are clearing out of their section.
Declan grins, his eyes roving around the stadium as he lets the moment wash over him. He lowers the microphone and waits.
Gradually, the cheers fade. Linc and Delaney stand, flanking him.
“Our fans are the best,” Declan says.
Treyvon grabs the mic and says, “Thunder fans forever!”
His outburst incites another roar.
Declan takes the mic back and nods, smiling, then glances toward our section.
“If it's okay with you …” Declan pauses, swallowing hard. “There's someone in this crowd I need to talk to.”
A chorus of cheers answers him. Someone whistles. Another fan shouts, “Do it!”
I glance at Cass. She’s beaming like the cat who ate the canary.
The tickets. They were from Declan?
Tears well in my eyes.
Declan chuckles under his breath. He clears his throat again.
And he stares straight at me. I can barely make out his features from this distance. I glance at the Jumbotron. On the screen, I can see everything—the sweat on his face, the tightness around his eyes, the way his face grows serious when he looks toward our section.
I look at him again, thirty-five yards away, he’s smaller, more distant. But I still see him. I see the things no one else knows. The way his shoulders settle. The way he stands when he’s bracing himself. The way he turns toward me as if the whole stadium has fallen away.
Declan speaks into the silence. “When someone matters to you, you need to protect that person with everything you have.” He shakes his head lightly. “And I didn't do that …”
“When the media and social media came for my girlfriend, I didn’t fight for her. But today, all that changes.”
His eyes rove the crowd. “You don’t know Winona.”
He returns his focus to our section of the stands. “But I do.”
He spreads his free arm out. “And I’m standing here in front of thirty or forty million people who just watched the Thunder win our first playoff game of the season.”
The crowd erupts in a fresh wave of cheers.
When they settle, he says. “I let the love of my life down in front of the world. And I’m here to fight for her in front of all of you today.”
“Winona, I know you’re here. I love you. You are everything to me. And I’m sorry. If you give me a chance, I’ll make it up to you. I’ll spend every day of my life showing you how much you mean to me. And if you’re with me, we’ll fight together.”
I can't help myself. And I don’t care who’s watching or filming or what they think of me. Only one person matters. I stand and shout. “I love you too, Declan!”
Out of the corner of my eye, I see my face fill the jumbotron, but my focus stays on the man who has handed the mic to Linc and is jogging over toward me.
“Let her through,” someone says.
Cass stands up and people move out of my way. I step onto the concrete stairs and start running down toward Declan.
People start cheering.
Declan runs right up to his side of the wall. I glance toward the jumbotron to get a better view of him attempting to scale it. A security guard moves toward Declan, giving him a foot up. As soon as he’s over the wall, Declan runs to me, grabbing me and lifting me into the air.
Our eyes lock and he says, “I love you, Winona. I’m so sorry.”
“I love you, too,” I say.
I have so much more to say to him. I want to tell him he did his best. To assure him I know his heart.
To let him know this didn’t break us. But his lips are on mine, salty with sweat, but sweeter than ever.
His arms hold me tight and I loop my arms around his neck, my tears mingling into our kiss—tears of sheer joy—of relief at finally being back where I belong.
Declan hums into our kiss, gently setting me on the ground.
I glance over his shoulder and there we are—larger than life on the Jumbotron. People around us are cheering and hooting and snapping pictures. Something in me knows it’s not so they can mock me this time.
Declan cups my jaw. “I love you. I’m never letting you go again.”
“Good,” I say, smiling up at him. “Because next time, I’m storming the gates. All three of them.”
“There won’t be a next time,” he says, leaning in and kissing me again.
He slows our kiss and only pulls away enough to put the smallest space between us. His arms are still wrapped around me. “I should have never made the decision for you.” His words are soft and private. “You’re strong. And together we’re strong enough to face whatever comes.”
“You were just trying to protect me.”
“I made a mistake. My heart was in the right place, but I didn’t do the right thing.”
“You’re here now.”