Page 63 of Tight End

The first real smile I think I’ve ever seen on Brixton Scott’s face.

“I’m gonna teach him how to play.”

Shit. Now my heart is doing goddamn pirouettes.

The guy is worse than manipulative.

He’s unknowingly fucking manipulative.

He’s toying with my heart strings like I’m a freaking puppet.

All because I was right…there is more to him than just a cocky arrogance and pole-up-his-ass attitude.

“I think that’s great,” I say slowly. “But how long can you keep that up? You don’t live here. You’ll have another record, another tour, then one after that?—”

“At this point, who the hell knows? Will there be another record? Another tour?” He sighs. “Or did I dig my own grave this time for real? Time will tell. And I’ve got lots of it on my hands.”

I want to pull him against me, to hold him tight, to breathe in his spicy scent.

And my God, I hate myself for it.

“I’m sure Ben will help you navigate the mess you made.” I force a smile. “Things will work out. People have short memories. You should forget about it, too.”

“Yeah…” he says in a soft voice before he backs away and slides the sunglasses back on his face. “I should. But I don’t know if I can this time. Sometimes trying to forget is useless, even if you know it’s for the best.”

He turns and waves at a kid standing at the front desk with Sofia, a kid I take to be the aspiring musician. Then he walks out the door, his head down as he disappears into the crowd of people suddenly swarming the sidewalk.

I lean back against the column and blow out an unsteady breath.

Fuck me.

For the first time, Brixton and I might actually agree on something.

The end of us.

Chapter 24

Brixton

Iwatch James strum the notes on the new guitar I got him last week. Kid actually looks happy, so different from the first day I met him. His eyes are bright, there’s a perpetual smile on his face from the second he walks into Play It Forward every day after school.

And I’m always here waiting.

It’s weird that a couple of guys like us who haven’t got much in the athletic department can find comfort in this place.

I’ve been surrounded by such thick iron walls since Davis died, and because of this place…and because of Sam, if I’m being honest…I’ve started to let my guard down.

Almost on instinct, I narrow my eyes at the entrance to the ice rink where Sam and Jack stand, smiling and whispering to each other.

Fuckups. Jesus, the list is so damn long.

Life is all about choices, and I’ve made some pretty spectacularly bad ones lately.

But I guess this is part of my penance.

Crossing paths with James, I think it’s just what I needed.

It’s been a long time since I’ve felt like myself, not the front man I’m paid to be. I can relax. I don’t have to be “on” all the time. People aren’t watching and judging me. I made some mistakes but nobody is holding them against me. At least, nobody here is. Everyone at the center has troubles and they support each other, sometimes with just a smile or wave.

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