Page 7 of Tight End

I fish out a match and hold it to one of the flickeringflames, igniting the tip. Then I choose a candle in the top row and hold it to the wick until it flares. I blow out the match and stick it with the other extinguished ones.

Say a prayer.

I watch the candle burn for a few long seconds, waiting for some sense of peace to wash over me. Isn’t that what’s supposed to happen? Some feeling that everything is going to be okay because God’s on your side?

“If you’re waiting for some magic to happen, it won’t.”

That voice again.

But damn, it’s like he can read my mind. I’ve heard him speak in interviews and he sounds like a pretty smart and well-educated guy. But maybe he’s got psychic powers besides all the superpowers he displays on the football field.

Still, my spine tenses. I turn around and look at him.

“I appreciate the chapel tutoring session, but I’m good.”

He lifts an eyebrow. “If you were good, you wouldn’t be here right now.”

“Maybe I’m just thankful.” My pulse throbs against the side of my throat because his words hit me with the force of a hammer to my chest.

“Or maybe you’re just covering your bases.” He rises from the kneeler and sits back in the pew. With a sweep of his hand, he pushes the hair out of his eyes, slicking it back to expose the tormented expression on his face. “But either way, it won’t matter. No matter how many prayers you say, candles you light, or good karma you command, none of it will change God’s plan.” He hangs his head. “And it really fucking sucks.”

“I, ah, didn’t think we were allowed to curse in here.”

Sam lifts his tortured gaze to mine. “I don’t think it can make things any worse at this point.”

“I was in a bad car accident tonight while we were trying to get my brother’s fiancée to the hospital. Shewent into labor after a concert. My brother was hurt pretty badly and needed surgery. But he’s out now and things are looking good. Plus, he’s got a brand-new baby girl to meet.”

I step into a pew a few rows in front of him and sink onto the bench. “I came here after leaving his room just to say thanks, I guess.”

Sam narrows his eyes at me. “You’re Brixton Scott, right? Sin City? I’ve seen you guys play in LA.”

I nod. “Yeah. We were at the Sun Arena. Fucking Uber driver was more concerned about Allie giving birth in his backseat than getting us to the hospital in one piece.”

A hint of a smile lifts Sam’s lips. “You just cursed.”

“You said it was okay.” I shrug. “And you seem to be more of an expert than me with this stuff, so…”

“I said it wouldn’t make things any worse,” he corrects. A deep sigh shudders his shoulders and he reclines against the back of the pew.

“Why are you here?”

“My brother. He’s been sick for a long time. It’s bad. He’s terminal. And I’ve spent more time in this chapel than you can imagine over the past couple of years.” He stares down at his hands. “We thought things would get better, but he’s just gotten weaker and weaker. This afternoon, he took a nosedive. The doctors told us it’s the end.”

“That explains why the media was all over you after this afternoon’s game.” He slowly lifts his head and stares at me. “Yeah, I know who you are, too.”

He holds my curious gaze. “Today wasn’t one of my shining moments, that’s for sure. My head wasn’t in it at all. I’d just gotten the call right before kickoff, and the game pretty much ended before it started for me.”

“So why’d you come here, then? Praying for a miracle?”

With a look around, his face hardens. “Nah. Not anymore.Now I’m just praying that he’s not in any more pain. That he can go peacefully. That my family and I can figure out how to pick up the pieces when he’s gone.” Sam’s Adam’s apple bobs in his throat and I have the sudden urge to wrap my arms around him.

He’s such a huge force in the NFL. A star rookie turned league superstar after only a few short years. But he sits here in front of me now, powerful, strong, and completely broken at the same time.

My heart clenches.

It could be me saying those very same things if the situation was different and if Davis hadn’t come out of the surgery successfully.

“I’m really sorry about your brother.” I finally find the words and he smiles.

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