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Marcus bought his mom a house.

“She won’t let me do much for her,” he says. “But I didn’t ask about that one. I just bought her the house and told her it was for her and my siblings. She couldn’t exactly return it.”

His jaw ticks just the slightest. Is this line of questioning making him uncomfortable?

I give his leg a squeeze and he looks over at me. Our eyes lock.

“Cass,” Lauren says my name and I turn to look at her. “Marcus obviously has a big heart for people in need.”

“Yes .. It seems … Well, he does. We … uh … Sorry …” I clear my throat. “We have that in common.”

Lauren smiles despite the fact that I just stuttered out my response on live television.

Marcus’s grip on my shoulder remains steady. He doesn’t let go of me. Instead, his thumb makes one soft stroke up and then down.

The interview continues, but I can’t seem to gather my racing thoughts and swirling emotions. I’ve based everything I believe about Marcus on assumptions and our charged interactions. And now I don’t know up from down.

Bradley asks me questions about projects Porch Light has done and our plans for future outreach. I force myself to set aside my preoccupation with Marcus to give coherent answers.

I relax into Marcus’s side while Lauren asks him about his thoughts on the upcoming season. I would normally be all in on any conversation centered around football. Instead, my brain is laying out all the pieces of Marcus Delaney like a puzzle on a folding table. It’s like I bought the wrong box. The image on the front doesn’t match the scattered shapes and colors splayed out in front of me. Now that I’m assembling the interlocking fragments, the final impression is nothing like what I was certain I’d see.

Lauren snaps me out of my thoughts. “Cass, were you a big football fan before you started dating Marcus?”

“I love the game,” I say.

“That’s an understatement,” Marcus says, beaming down at me and running his thumb across my shoulder again. “Her knowledge of stats and her post-game assessment rivals most sports commentators. And she has the rare ability to pull me out of my head when I’m spiraling. There’s not a lot of people who can do that.”

I study Marcus’s profile—strong and steady, but with a softness when he speaks about me.

“Awww,” Lauren says. “You two are adorable together. We wish you the best in your charitable work and in the season ahead.”

“Go Thunder!” Bradley says.

We both smile. Marcus thanks the hosts. They thank us. And then Bradley closes out by looking at the camera and addressing the viewers with his stock outro. “We hope you enjoyed meeting Marcus and Cass. Until next time, Good Day Nashville!”

Bradley keeps his smile aimed at the camera until someone shouts, “And that’s a wrap!”

I breathe out a long breath. Marcus drops his hand from my shoulder. It takes a beat for me to lift my hand off his thigh.

Marcus Delaney—oldest of five. Raised in a lower-income home without a father figure. He serves his community to give back. He’s the man who comforted me through a panic attack. He bought his mom a house. And he’s staring at me with an expression I can’t decipher, like he’s checking to make sure I’m okay.

I’m not. Everything inside me is a scrambled mess.

The young woman who escorted us here appears out of nowhere and tells us to follow her back to the greenroom to collect our belongings.

We meet up with Winona and walk out into the midmorning sun.

Marcus stands a few feet away from Winona and me on the sidewalk, pulling his phone out of his pocket. We haven’t said a word to each other since the cameras turned off.

“I’m going to grab an Uber to my hotel,” he says.

“You’re not going to hang out with Cass for the afternoon?” Winona asks.

“Uh … No,” he says, stalling for a beat. “I’ve got things to do to prep for tomorrow’s game, and the team will be here in a few hours.”

“Oh. Okay,” Winona says. “I thought they didn’t come in until dinner.”

“Yeah. They do. You’re right. Dinner. Right. But I’ve got film to watch. Football things.”