Page 43 of Tight End

“Posts about what happened at the hospital. How it looks like you started with the biker’s brother according to the video clips that’ve been shared.” Rex scrubs a hand down the front of his face. “Jesus Christ, what the hell else?”

“That’s bullshit,” I hiss as the elevator doors open. “The guy came at Brixton with a knife. He had a weapon. Did that show up in any of the videos?”

Rex lifts an eyebrow. “What do you think?”

“Has the team management seen those?” I walk into the elevator and collapse against the back wall.

“I’m sure I’ll get a call if they do.” Rex lets out a deep sigh. “I’m going to say it again, Sam. I get that you want to honor your word, but this is not a great plan.”

“I’m already in it, Rex. Already implicated. What the hell am I supposed to do, other than ride it out?” I want to tell him the truth, to explain my intentions but they’re just too private, especially after what happened between me and Brixton last night. He’s a selfish, self-centered asshole, and even though I detest him right now, I still feel like there’s more to him than he lets on. And that’s the guy I want to help.

So I can’t walk away, even though my mind tells me it’s the smartest move I can make.

“You’re too goddamned principled for your own good,” Rex grumbles.

Yep. No argument there.

The elevator doors open on the third floor where all of the conference rooms are located. Photographers line the hallway, waiting to get the first glimpse of whoever showsup first. By the way they clamor for a shot of me, I guess Brixton hasn’t made an appearance yet.

Leave it to him to keep the drama level as high as possible.

I keep an easy, relaxed smile on my face, trying to not look like I have a pole shoved up my ass while I make my way toward the conference room door. But everything is stiff and tight, and a strange sense of unease makes my stomach knot.

My cell phone buzzes in my pocket and I pull it out.

“Hey, Chase, what’s up?”

“You didn’t tell me Brixton Scott stayed over last night,” he says. “He came into the kitchen about an hour ago, shirtless. I think he was looking for you.”

“What were you doing at the apartment so late?”

“I was doing some last-minute studying for my practical exam at the hospital.”

I clap a hand against my forehead. “Dammit. I forgot that was today. I figured you’d be out long before he woke up. Didn’t check to see if you were home before I left for practice.”

“Yeah, well, he looked at me like he saw a ghost. He didn’t even say anything to me. Just made a beeline for the front door and took off. What the hell was that all about? It’s like he couldn’t get away from me fast enough.”

I clutch the phone hard in my hand.

“I, uh, I don’t know. Maybe he had to get somewhere.”

“Shirtless?”

“I don’t know.”

“Where are you now?”

I bite the inside of my mouth. “Press conference at the Wallingford. Brixton is going to give a statement about what happened last night.”

Chase pauses. “And you’re there because of the whole fake boyfriend thing?”

Fake boyfriend.

More lies and hidden truths.

Except there was nothing fake about what we did in the guest bedroom last night.

Every moan, every thrust, every tug of his hair.

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