Page 6 of Tight End

“I still like Gorgeous Girl,” I pipe in.

After a few more minutes of cooing at Julianna, Davis settles back on his pillow. “I’ll see you both really soon,” he says, his voice strained. “I…love you.”

Then he clicks to end the call and hands me my phone.

A flicker of pain darkens his face, erasing the light I’d seen the whole time he was on the phone. I swallow hard. “D, what’s wrong? I thought you were numb?”

He lets out a tired laugh. “The incision site is numb, but the rest of me feels like it was run over by a Mack truck. Don’t worry. They said I’m good. Now, go. Take care of my girls. They need you more than I do.”

Davis drops his hand on top of mine. “And call Dad. Let him know about Julianna. Send him the picture.”

A chill slips down my spine. “You’re sure you want me to go?”

Davis nods. “You’ve got things to do while I recover downhere. And you’d better make sure you give Julianna music lessons and singing lessons so she can be a big star one day, just like her Uncle Rock Star.”

“You’ll be there to hold me to it,” I say, my voice cracking. Panic wrenches my gut as I stare at my brother.

His face relaxes into a real smile, for the first time since he’s been here, and my shoulders relax as spots of color creep back into his cheeks. I let out a shaky breath.

“Stop looking at me like I’m dying. I told you, I’m fine. So get back to the girls. Give my baby Jules kisses for me.”

“Okay,” I say after a long pause. “The nurses have my number in case of anything. Just make sure they call if you need anything. I’ll be back in a little while…as long as you’re sure.”

“I’m sure.”

He says the words but they don’t unravel the knot in my chest. I stand there, shifting my weight between my feet, scouring the bleeping machines as if they’ll give me a clear sign to either stay or go.

The nurse returns and checks on Davis’s vitals again. “Things are stable, which is good. But you need to rest.” With a pointed look at me, I throw my hands in the air.

I guess that’s my sign.

“I’m leaving, don’t worry. Just call me if anything changes.”

“It won’t,” Davis says. “Take care of Allie. Maybe find her some kind of Hostess cake in the cafeteria. She loves that poisonous crap. Lived on Hostess for the past eight months.”

“I’ll see what I can do.” I give his hand a squeeze. “See you later.”

“See you,” he echoes.

I walk out of the room, the events of the night finally catching up to me and wallpapering my brain. So much excitement and anticipation followed by even more terror and angst.Raking a hand through my hair, I pass by the chapel on my way to the elevators.

I’ve never been overly religious. Not really even remotely religious, if I’m being honest. But something makes me push open the wooden door and step inside of the darkened space. The strong scent of incense is heavy in the air. It clogs my throat to the point where I can barely breathe through it.

Stepping inside, my eyes adjust to the dim gold and orange light. Rows of candles glow along the sides of the chapel and a large crucifix hangs on the wall opposite me. I swallow hard, clenching and unclenching my fingers. I wipe my sweaty palms on the front of my jeans and look around at the empty pews in front of me.

Do I sit down? Light a candle? Kneel at the altar?

I have no idea what to do but somehow, just being here makes me feel like I’m doing something to help my brother.

“If you don’t know what to do, just light a candle and say a prayer.”

I jump and twist around toward the intruding voice. A dark figure hunches over the top of the pew with his hands folded. His head rests on top of them, a spill of dark hair falling over his eyes that stare straight in front of him. Squinting in the darkness, a flicker of recognition registers in my brain.

Sam Hartley. Tight end for the Oakland Saints. Hot as fuck and built like a brick shithouse.

Crap, am I allowed to think those things in the presence of God? I mean, let’s face it, God created him so he knows it’s all true. He can’t hold it against me.

“Thanks.” I guess I give off amateur religious vibes. Taking a few slow steps toward one of the rows of candles, I cast another glance at Sam. His broad, muscular upper body is stiff, jaw tight and tensed.

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