Page 100 of Tight End

“At least he’s here,” I mutter.

“Yes,” she says. “Right where he should be. I just pray that he has the chance to make things right.”

“Did Brixton ever tell you that this is where we first met?”

“Yes, but only a couple of weeks ago. It was when he found out about Chase’s letter.”

“That letter turned him into a raging asshole.” A faraway smile lifts my lips. “It’s the reason why we ended up ‘together’ in the first place. If he hadn’t found it and hadn’t run into me atthat bar…”

“So much would be different,” she muses. “But not necessarily better.”

“How do you mean?”

“I believe that everything happens according to a plan. We may not like the plan, but it’s all out of our control. You guys came together for a reason a couple of years ago. I don’t think it was coincidence. You’re connected through Davis because you both need each other. B hit rock bottom when he met you, and you helped him claw his way out of it. And you…I think you felt the need to help him because of what Davis gave to your family. I saw how you defended him at the press conference. It was deeper than just a surface-level show. And based on what I saw at my house, you found someone who could light you up in a way you never thought possible. Call it divine intervention or whatever you want. You were meant to find each other. You’re better together.”

I stare at her. “How could you possibly know?—?”

She shrugs. “I’m a bit of a hockey fan. I know all about you and Jack Larsen. You may have been America’s puckhearts, but I never saw you glow like a candle when you guys were photographed together. Not the way you did with Brixton yesterday. And I saw you for all of, what? Half an hour before all hell broke loose?”

“You’re pretty perceptive.”

“Yeah, well, it’s my job.”

I drum my fingers on the top of the pew. “You know, for whatever it’s worth, I always believed we were supposed to find each other again. I didn’t know how it might happen but I knew that night that when the circumstances were right, we’d run into each other. And I never told anyone but my brother Chase about meeting him that night. I always felt it was too personal. Too intimate.”

I cover my face with my hands. “And when it came time totell him the most personal, intimate thing of all, I pulled away. I told him I didn’t want to be with him, that he needed to figure his own shit out. That I wasn’t in it.” Tears sting my eyes. “The last words I spoke to him were lies because I was too chicken shit to tell him the truth. He trusted me, but I couldn’t trust him back. I broke us, and now I might never get the chance to fix us.”

Chapter 35

Sam

By the time Chase finally comes to let me know Brixton was out of surgery and moved into the Intensive Care Unit hours later, I think I’ve worn off the sole of my one sneaker from all the pacing. My good leg and both of my arms are damn sore, but I need to keep moving. If I stand still, the darkness hovering in the air will creep in and swallow me whole.

“I have to get back to my rounds but I wanted to let you know what was going on,” Chase says.

A deep sigh sags my shoulders. I keep pacing. “Did the doctors say anything? When will he wake up?”

“They don’t know. They’re going to run tests but…” I stop to look at him and he pauses, deliberately looking away from me. “He’s still unresponsive. There was a lot of damage that they didn’t even realize until they opened him up. They don’t…” He presses his lips together for a long second. “They don’t feel confident.”

I stomp over to him. “I want to talk to the doctor. Now. Where is he?” My pulse beats a hole into my neck. “Iwill find the best cardiac surgeon in the country if these doctors can’t do the job. I’ll pay any price. Just?—”

“Sam.”

My spine stiffens at his chilling tone.

“He can’t go through another surgery right now. His body is way too weak.” Chase taps a long black stylus against his iPad, clearly biding his words. “He also went into cardiac arrest during the surgery. The doctors said it was a miracle that they were able to bring him back at all. If they cut him again, he will likely die on the operating table. As it is, they don’t even know if he’s going to wake up.”

A doctor appears around a corner, nods toward Chase, and walks over.

Panic wrenches my gut.

“Dr. Rajan, this is my brother, Sam.” Chase looks at me. “Dr. Rajan is the lead cardiothoracic surgeon who was working on Brixton.”

The doctor sticks his hand out to me.

I just glare at it and then at him.

“You’re supposed to save lives. Why the hell can’t you help him?”

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