Page 93 of Tight End

And it’s been a long time coming.

“I’ve got an idea I wanna run past you guys. Lane and I talked about it the other day but it would be great if you guys were onboard, too.”

I go through the details of my plan and when they smile and nod, it lights me the fuck up.

They love it.

“We’re in,” Aidan says. “Anything you need, whenever you need.”

“New tour won’t start for about eight months so we’ve got lots of time,” I say. “And we don’t need to limit it to Oakland, either. We can do drop-ins in the cities we visit. Make it a nationwide kind of thing.”

The more I talk about it, the more excited I get.

And there’s only one person who jumps to mind when I think about who I want to share that excitement with, even though I just walked out on him.

I lift my chipped white mug and sip the coffee the server just refilled, ignoring the scorching heat on the tip of my tongue.

This is exactly the kind of thing that would make Sam happy. Patching shit up, moving forward, doing good for myself and others. It’s totally his bag. Not that he’d give a shit now.

“So we’re good,” Lane says, clapping me on the back once we’re outside in front of our cars.

I force a smile. “Yeah. I’m headed to Mercy Hospital now to meet with the administrators so we can share the idea and maybe pick a date for the first private acoustic show.”

We do the whole bro hug thing on the sidewalk, and then Dak and Aidan jump into a waiting Escalade. I turn to Lane. “You’re not going with them?”

“Nah. I drove myself.” He gives me a long look. “You sure you’re good? You don’t look it.”

I let out a deep sigh and sweep a hand through my hair. “Yesterday was a total shit show at Allie’s. My dad showed up, words were said.” I pause. “Rocks were thrown. Literally.”

“Fuck,” Lane breathes out.

“Yeah. Sam was with me.”

Lane’s eyebrows fly upward at that. “How’d that happen?”

“I thought we were friends. Hoped we’d be more than that, but he’s not into it.” I shrug. “Moving on.”

“Dude, of course he wants more than that. Anyone who doesn’t live under a fucking rock can see how much he wants that from a mile away.”

“Yeah, well, they’d be wrong. He made that clear to me today. Whatever. I don’t want to deal with any relationshipcrap right now. I’ve got more important shit to focus on.” I trace the tip of my Nike over a crack in the sidewalk.

“I think you’re making a mistake. There must be a reason. You owe it to yourself to find out what’s going on in his head.”

I hold up a hand. “Lane, I appreciate your pep talk, but it’s done. He’s gonna be with that tool, Jack Larsen. He’s the guy Sam needs. I’m not gonna get in their way.”

Lane is silent for a minute. “I’m sorry, B. I didn’t know Jack was back in the picture.”

“When he signed with Oakland, he busted through the picture.” I roll my eyes. “Fuck it. I need to focus on myself and Sin City.”

“Okay, if you say so.” But he looks damn doubtful.

Kind of how I feel.

But I’m not gonna let myself get kicked in the teeth again. I’ve got at least one tiny shred of pride left, dammit.

“Gotta run,” I say after glancing at the time on my phone. “I’ll let you know how it goes later.”

I stab the hospital address into my GPS and sit back against the leather seat, my shoulders slumping a little.

---