Page 76 of Tight End

But instead of his words comforting me, they wrench my gut.

And when I twist my head toward the now-empty doorway, a piece of my heart shatters in my chest.

Chapter 28

Brixton

Imanage a smile when James finishes playing one of his favorite Sin City song,Invisible Connection. When I wrote it after Davis died, I was angry. Devastated. And the lyrics reflect my thoughts on the evil in the connections between people who are just dark clouds over you, keeping you down when you’re trying to pick yourself up after a fall.

Now that I really listen to the words, I realize that it was actually a cry for help. That I did crave that lost connection and felt suspicious of everyone around me who tried to ease into my life, that they didn’t really want to connect, they wanted something else from me.

Fame, influence, money.

Anything other than what I really needed.

I’ve felt that way for two years.

It took that long for me to recognize someone doing something selfless to help me, not because he needed anything in return, but because he is just genuinely a good person.

And now the song makes my heart clench, not only because of what it meant to me but because it might mean thesame thing to James. He’s a good kid who deserves to have good people around him, people who appreciate him and his talent, who want to support him, who need to understand that if they fuck things up now, it’ll damage him for the future.

I’ve learned this harsh lesson recently, and while I might not be able to fix myself, maybe I can help fix something else.

I rub my temples, but it doesn’t do much to ease the ache, not in my head and definitely not in my heart.

“Last night was so much fun,” James says, packing his guitar into the case. “I’d never been to a football game before.”

“I’m glad you had a good time, kid.” I grin at him and sit back in the chair.

“Do you think Sam’s going to be okay?” He frowns at me and adjusts his glasses. “I mean, he got taken out of the game. That’s bad, right?”

After Jack and his parents showed up in the team exam room, I backed off, not wanting to get in the way. Jack made it very clear that he’d be staying with Sam and there was nothing in the press about his injury. I do know from Bryce he was released, though. Turns out it was just a really bad sprain, not a tear, which I’m sure made everyone let out a huge sigh of relief. And while I want to see him more than anything, I won’t interfere. If Jack is what he wants, and Christ knows, the guy is stable as a fucking rock, then I walk. Sam needs that. Deserves it.

Me, on the other hand?

Yeah, I’m about as stable as a tropical storm.

And everyone knows it.

“I think he’ll be okay in a few weeks to play again. There wasn’t any serious damage to his knee.”

“That’s good. I was reading up on his past seasons and how he’s become one of the best tight ends in the league. And now that Oakland is headed for the playoffs, they need him.”

I grin. “So you are into sports, after all.”

James shrugs and looks over at the group of kids running plays down one of the gym floors to our left. “I never really had anyone talk to me about sports. Not like my dad watches with me. He usually goes to the bar and drinks his face off instead. Then he comes home and lays into me for my music.” He pauses, a wistful look on his face. “I’d really like to learn more. Maybe play.”

“You’re in the right place, bud. Why don’t you go hang out with those guys for a little while? I’ll keep an eye out for your dad.”

His eyes light up and he runs off to the gym. He stays back from the group at first, watching the plays, his eyes traveling up and down the length of the gym. But then one of the coaches pulls him in, bends his head down to say something, and points to a few of the guys. James nods, his forehead creased with concentration.

I settle back in the chair and glance at my watch.

My meeting with the label is in less than an hour.

Drumming my fingertips on the arm of the chair, I let my mind wander back to Sam and the last words I spoke to him last night. I can’t shake the sensations that bubble up deep inside of me when I remember his fingers squeezing mine.

He didn’t want to let go, even though everyone knew he should.

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