Page 44 of Tangled with the Tight End

No. I want her to come here willingly.

I stop in mid-step. I want her to come here. Shit. I do. I don’t want a vacation fling. Or a fucking hook-up which is all we are at this point since she refuses to see me again. I want a relationship with her. I want her to cheer for me in the stands because we’re a couple. Not to piss off her date.

But how? How do I convince her to give me a shot? And to give up Evergreen Lake.

A door opens, and a television reporter and cameraman step out of the PR director’s office. Head down and keep walking. Better yet, turn the other way and run.

The woman’s head jerks up as she spots me, causing my skin to tighten. This part of the game I’ll never love. I hate the prodding for answers we’re never going to give. The twisting of words for clickbait. And the additional scrutiny of football fans.

I know her. She’s a reputable television journalist, but she never shies away from juicy stories. The light on the camera flashes, and I cringe from head to toe. Fuck my timing.

“Gabriel, can I have a word with you?”

I shrug. “Sure.” Like I can answer anything but the affirmative. I’m caught out in the open, and if I say no, I’ll be on the news looking like an ass.

“Are you back with the team?”

“No. The doctor hasn’t released me.” The blinding light stings my eyes.

‘Sorry,’ the camera man mouths and steps back, putting additional space between me and the camera.

Lyla McCray arches an eyebrow after the cameraman pans to include us both in the footage. “Soon?”

“I hope to be back on the field before the end of the year.”

“Excellent.” She tips her head sideways. “So, is it true?” In the second before she speaks again, my life flashes before my eyes. There are so many loaded questions she can ask me about and I don’t want to answer any of them. “That you’re looking at a big contract after this season?”

Fuck. That’s not a topic I want to discuss either. I don’t want to discuss Sloane or a contract on the news.

“My only focus is healing my knee and getting back onto the field this year to help the team make it to the playoffs. Everything else will take care of itself.”

“Spoken like a true player.” Lyla grins, and the cameraman shifts the focus entirely to her. “This is Lyla McCray, signing off.”

twenty-two

GABRIEL

Once I leave the gym,I travel through the hallways to the team doctor’s on-site office. He’s also meeting with a couple of other players today, making it easier on me not having to go to his downtown office and then over to the stadium.

The walls are lined with team memorabilia and accolades of successes throughout the years. However, the accolades mostly came from when Coach Slater and our QB came on board several years ago. Since then, we’ve racked up the wins.

I step through the lobby door to find Dr. Daughtery waiting for me.

“Hello, Gabriel.” He smiles and offers his hand. The room smells faintly like antiseptic, muscle rubs, and antibacterial soap. “You’re my last victim today.”

“It’s good to see you.” I clasp his hand in mine. Dr. Daughtery is a thin, older man with a trim, muscular build. Back in his youth, he played multiple sports and focused on sports medicine once he chose his profession.

“You look good.” He eyes me up and down. “Decent gait when you walked in, no wincing or hesitation, and your weight looks nearly the same.” He meets my gaze. “Dark circles underyour eyes. I thought you were on vacation with your son and family.”

He ushers me into the adjoining exam room. It’s twice the size of a typical doctor’s exam room with an oversized bed, workout equipment, and space for athletes to move around. Dr. Daughtery doesn’t just pop a knee with a tiny rubber hammer. I’ll be expected to simulate workout positions and repetitions.

“I am. The mountain air is fantastic.” But being blown off by Norah is eating me alive. It shouldn’t. I’ve only known her for less than two weeks, so I should be able to walk it off without a backward glance.

However, that message isn’t getting through my thick skull. She’s shoved her way through my defenses, and I don’t know how to get her back out.

I rotate my head in a circle to ease the tension. And that has me pissed. Almost as angry as her rejection did. “And spending time with Gino, my brother and parents on Thanksgiving was great.”

“Good. Good.” He nods and asks me to be seated on the bed.

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