Page 72 of Tight End

He just stares at me. Expectantly.

I make an “o” with my fingers. “Nothing. Abso-fucking-lutely nothing, Jack. My advice? Stop trying to convince yourself how important you are to Sam. If he’s not in your arms already, he never will be. So stop pissing all over him. It won’t change how he feels about you. Find a puckboy.”

I edge past him, my feet creaking on the hardwood floorboards.

The blood ices in my veins at the sound of voices drifting into the hallway..

“The guy clearly has a lot of issues. And I’m concerned about Sam’s future. I think he should stay far away from Brixton Scott, or else there will be major risks to his future.”

I back away, the hairs on the back of my neck prickling at the distaste in his father’s tone.

Swinging around an end table, I almost knock over a picture frame as I try to figure out how the hell to get out of this house without being noticed.

“Hey, there you are.”

I stop short, Sam’s voice like a soothing balm to my bruised ears.

No. Fuck,no.

I always said Sam was too good.

This can’t be about me and how he makes me feel.

It isn’t fair to him. To any of them, really.

“I can’t wait to dig into dessert,” he says, holding up the cheesecake. “If you haven’t tried one of their cheesecakes, you haven’t lived.”

I have to make the right choice now. I have to think about him, not what he does for me.

“I have to go,” I say. “I’m sorry.”

He furrows his brows. “Right now? Before dessert? Are you feeling okay?”

I shake my head. “It was a mistake to come here tonight. Everything about us is a big fucking mistake.”

The words taste like shit on my tongue but they need to be said.

And now I just need to turn around and let go.

Lethimgo.

Chapter 27

Sam

“Okay, guys, Arizona has some weakness in their defensive line, so if we keep our focus on the field, we’ll be good as gold today.” Coach Taylor points to me. “Hartley, make sure they stay away from Baxter. Nobody gets through that line, got it?”

I nod, half-listening to the plays Coach scribbles on the whiteboard while we’re in our pre-game meeting. The eggs I shoveled in this morning churn in my stomach. But as my mind trips back to what happened at my parents’ house last night, I know it’s not the stress of the game that has me in knots.

It’s Brixton.

He couldn’t get out of the house fast enough last night, leaving me with some cryptic words and that pained look on his face. It wasn’t until I confronted my parents that I realized what drove him away.

Fucking trash talking the guy when he’s only a few feet away. What the hell were they thinking? I love my parents but they don’t know when to back off and let me live my own life.They cling tight because of what they almost lost but enough is enough. And of course, above all else, they’re Team Jack. Always have been. Nobody else has a shot against him in their eyes.

I bring a hand to the back of my head and massage my stiff neck. I tossed and turned all night, tormented by Brixton’s deflated expression and hating the fact that I was partly responsible for causing him more pain.

Yeah, he’s made mistakes but who the hell on this planet is perfect?

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