Page 70 of Tight End

Idon’t know how much more of this trip down Memory Lane I can take.

Sam’s parents have been nice enough, but fucking Jack hasn’t stopped talking about all the fun times they all had together for Christ only knows how many years he and Sam were together.

This goes way beyond pissing on him.

And I wanna punch that smug-ass grin right off his face.

“So, Brixton,” Sam’s dad, Bill, asks. “You play the guitar, right? As well as sing?”

I shift in the dining room chair. Finally, a commercial break in the fucking Jack Larsen show.

“Yes, sir. I’ve been playing since I was ten. My brother…” I trail off for a second when my words catch. I clear my throat. “My older brother bought me a secondhand guitar and I pretty much taught myself by watching videos online. It was expensive to get lessons, so if I wanted to play I needed to figure it out for myself.”

I sneak a look at Sam, my heart clenching at the sadness in his gaze.

“That’s incredibly impressive,” his mom, Mandee, says, a surprised look on her face. “And look what you’ve become, all on your own.”

Jack chooses that minute to cough through a scoff. Sam shoots him a look.

I clench my fists under the table.

He’d look really good with a hockey stick coming out of his mouth. Fucking dick.

“Davis…my brother…he’s really the one who helped me get noticed. Once we had a band, he sent demos all over the place for us to be considered for gigs. He talked to club managers, called booking agents.” I smile. “He was relentless. I think people booked us just so he’d stop bugging them.”

“He must’ve been very proud of you,” Sam’s mom says in a soft voice.

“Yeah, he was my best friend. He raised me since my mom died when I was born. I don’t know how I would have gotten by without him.”

I snap my lips closed before anything else can tumble out, noticing Sam’s parents exchange a concerned glance.

Shit. I’ve never let anything like that slip out in front of strangers. It’s too weak, too vulnerable. I don’t show that side to anyone.

A pang in my heart reminds me that one person in this room has already seen it.

Sam.

Nobody around the table says a word.

I catch Chase’s eye and he nods at me.

Like he knows Davis is listening right now. Like he’s here for me because I need him.

My chest tightens and I push back my chair, the feetscraping against the floor. “Um, excuse me, I need to use the bathroom.”

Chase jumps up. “I’ll show him where it is.”

I drop my napkin on the chair, avoiding everyone’s eyes as I follow Chase.

Once we’re out of earshot of the dining room, I reach for his arm.

“I appreciate you saving me.”

He turns, his lips lifting. “It’s the least I can do.”

I lean against the wall in the hallway, a deep sigh making my whole body sag. “I’m not used to talking about him.”

“I get it,” Chase says. “It was a tragedy. You heal in your own time. Don’t ever feel like you aren’t doing it fast enough.”

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