Page 75 of Tight End

Coach pats me on the arm. “I’ll take care of it. Don’t worry.” They leave me alone with my thoughts, the only sound is the air intermittently blasting through the vent overhead.

I lie still as a corpse because it’s the only way to control the brutally vicious pain assaulting my lower body. Cracking every one of my knuckles does nothing to calm me. I blow out short, sharp gasps, wishing to God the doc had shot me up with something to numb my brain.

Fuck, that pain is a vicious bitch.

Someone knocks on the door. My shoulders relax. Finally, someone is getting me the hell out of here?—

“Hey.”

My eyes fly open. “How did you get back here?”

Brixton walks into the team room. “Security let me past. I guess they know about us,” he says in a joking voice.

“I want to laugh but it hurts too fucking much,” I rasp. “Where are the kids?”

“Sofia was able to come after all. She’s got themright now.” He takes a few steps toward me, his eyes dark with concern. “What did they say?”

I shake my head. “Nothing yet. I need an MRI to rule out a tear.”

“Shit,” he mutters. “Sounds like it hurts.”

“It’s torture,” I whisper.

He moves closer still and runs his hand down my arm where it hangs off the table. “I needed to make sure you were okay.”

“Iwillbe,” I say.

“Good.” His eyebrows knit together. “I shouldn’t have run out last night. It wasn’t right to leave you like that.”

I lift my arm and take his hand. Lacing my fingers with his, I tug him close. “You didn’t deserve any of that. I’m sorry I put you in that position.”

He stares at our hands like he’s mesmerized by the connection.

“There are reasons why I don’t open up to people, why I shut everyone out. But you…you won’t let me. You keep banging on that wall, trying to break it down.” A hint of a smile lifts his lips. “You’re the first person I want to tell when something good happens. I haven’t had that in a long time.” He chuckles. “Haven’t had a bunch of good stuff to share, either, but that’s another story.”

“If I’m laid up for a while, I’ll have time to listen,” I say.

He squeezes my hand and then the door slams open again. I choke on a breath and Brixton jumps backward, startled.

Jack and my parents run into the room, barely acknowledging Brixton. He backs away, a sad glimmer in his gaze as he watches them hover around me.

I know they’re worried but all I want to do is scream at them to get away from me. Because all I want right now is the guy loitering by the door. I want him next to me, his handwrapped in mine, his eyes locked on me, glimmering with whatever crazy emotions have bubbled up between us over the past week.

I want his hunger, his passion, his fire, his desire.

I want everything.

For those few fleeting minutes when we were alone, the pain wasn’t as horrible.

Not nearly as horrible as the thought of him walking out of my life forever.

But the realization hits me like a lead weight to the chest.

I never really did have him. For as much as he wants to open up, he just can’t.

And I don’t think that will ever change, no matter how badly I want it to.

“Don’t worry, babe. You’re going to be fine,” Jack says, running a hand through my hair. “I’ll stay with you and make sure you have everything you need.”

---