Page 49 of Tight End

But fuck it.

I’m not done.

“And for the record, my private life isn’t up for discussion or speculation. My choices, my relationships, my business.”

After a long hard look at the guy, I turn again and stalk toward the stairwell.

“Do you realize how much shit you just stirred up back there?” Rex hisses. “I’m your agent, not your publicist, dammit.”

“Well, then you should probably call Axel,” I grumble, pulling open the door. “I’m sure he’ll have plenty to say.”

“I don’t understand you, Sam. You wanted to honor your word, which I don’t get at all since you don’t even know the guy. And then you show up here and open yourself up to more character debate with what you said, which was caught on about a hundred different videos, by the way.”

He tugs at the sleeve of my jacket. “Goddammit, stop for a second and tell me why. Why are you willingly putting yourself and your career on the chopping block for that guy, of all people?”

With a shoulder shuddering sigh, I look back at Rex. “Look, there’s a reason why I’m here right now, and it goes beyond my need to stand by my word, okay?”

Rex stares at me expectantly, his arms folded over his chest. “Okay…”

I drop my eyes to the concrete floor and drag the tip of my shoe through a hairline crack. That’s how this whole thing started. A tiny, innocuous crack that opened up like the ground during an earthquake. And now I’m at risk for falling into the abyss.

Fucking fantastic.

“Two years ago, I met Brixton in the chapel at Mercy Hospital, same hospital we were at last night. His brother had been in a car accident but just came out of a successful surgery. Chase was at the hospital that night, too, in heart failure. If he didn’t get a heart, he was going to die within hours.” I lean back against the cold cinderblock wall. “We talked for a little while and parted ways. Later that night, Chase got a heart. Saved his life. I only just found out yesterday that Brixton’s brother died at the hospital. And two years later, last night to be exact, I ran into Brixton outside the men’s room at the bar and he was pissed as hell to see me. He told me that Chase had gotten his brother’s heart. I had no idea about that part. If you ask me, that’s what snapped in him last night, why he went off the deep end.”

“Shit,” Rex breathes, stroking his chin.

“It gets worse. This morning, he woke up at my place after I’d left for practice and Chase was there. I didn’t tell him Chase lives with me. He came face to face with something he’d struggled with for years — and without warning. The guy is in pain. And I feel responsible. That’s why I offered to help. It’s why I jumped in last night. His head isn’t right, and I get the feeling that nobody else gives a damn except Lane Maxwell.”

“Sam, I’m sorry for everything he’s going through. It sucks to suffer that kind of loss, but are you really going to let guilt chip away at everything you’ve built for yourself? Can’t you just get another volunteering job and deal with your guilt that way?”

My spine stiffens and I push off the wall. “Are you fucking kidding me right now? I try to give back because I’m grateful for what I have. I don’t volunteer out of guilt. I do it because there are people who need help, and I’m fortunate enough to be able to give it. Period. So don’t ever say that shit again.”

Rex recoils, surprise alive in hie eyes. “I’m sorry, Sam. I-I didn’t mean anything by it.”

My lips twitch with anger. “A couple of years ago, the tables were turned and I almost lost Chase. I can’t imagine what my life might have become if it was my brother who died. So yeah, I’m sensitive to what he’s going through. Because of his brother, I didn’t lose mine. I feel like I owe him. And I don’t give a damn what you or anyone else has to say about it.”

Rex puts up his hands. “I get it. I understand. I don’t agree, but this is your life, and my job is to make sure you have plenty of money and endorsement deals that pay for your life. I appreciate you telling me the truth.”

“I expect you’ll keep that between us. It’s not for anyone else’s ears, are we clear?”

“Yeah, of course. I appreciate you putting that trust in me.” Rex sighs. “Okay, so we have to be prepared with whatever is going to pop up on social media next, and there will be plenty. I have to get with Axel to come up with a damage control plan.”

“Whatever you need to do.” I walk down to the lobby without saying another word, but there are plenty bouncing across my mind in the form of questions I don’t have answers to.

Questions I’m afraid to ask.

I don’t make eye contact with anyone in the lobby. My focus is on the glass revolving door at the front of the hotel. I walk quickly across the marble tiled floor, the soles of my shoes clicking hard against it. I squint, the lights blinding me on all sides.

My pulse throbs hard against my throat, my legs picking up speed. An overwhelming urge to pummel the shit out of Brixton threatens to take over, battling viciously with the twisted desires that snake through my insides at the memory of his demanding lips, his devilish fingers, and his superhuman control over me.

This is not pity.

It’s not guilt.

It’s fucking insanity, plain and simple.

“No questions,” Rex calls out over the din of voices that follow me out the door.

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