Page 95 of Tight End

“I’ve had better days.”

A concerned expression flashes across the coach’s face and I let out a sigh. “My leg’s okay. Doc thinks I should be good to play in a couple of weeks, right in time for the playoffs.”

Coach’s face relaxes into a smile. “That’s very good news.” He steps toward me, pulls off his hat, and wrings it in his hands. “And, uh, the other stuff…how’s that going?”

I let out a sharp laugh. “The other stuff. You mean with Brixton Scott.”

“Well, yeah.”

“Don’t you read the tabloids, Coach?”

His smile gets sheepish. “I try to avoid ‘em. Nothing good ever comes out of believing that trash.”

“Well, in this case, you can believe it. We’re done. So nobody in the organization has to worry about any backlash from my romantic life.”

I shift on the table, wincing when a rush of pain explodes down my leg. I dig my fingers into the sides of the worn green leather.

“You know,” Coach says, sticking his hat back on. “I wasn’t really worried about backlash on the team. I was more worried about you. I’ve never seen you upset like you were at that press conference. I know the suits were pissed about how it’d reflect on them, but I was afraid you’d suffer way more than anyone if things went south with that rocker guy.”

“I appreciate that, Coach.” I swing myself to a seated position. “But I’m good. It wasn’t serious.”

“I hear Jack Larsen is back in town. Signed with the Raptors, yeah?”

“Yep.”

“That a good thing or a bad thing?”

I shrug. “He’s a friend.” My heart clenches when the word slips out of my mouth.

“Nothing more?”

I open my mouth to respond when the door opens again. Dr. Rick, the team doctor, walks in and Jack is right behind him.

He looks about as angry as I feel.

“Coach, looks like you’re going to get your superstar tight end back in a couple of weeks.”

Coach Taylor nods. “Looking forward to it, Doc.” He casts a glance at Jack and then back at me. “Stay well, Sammy.”

“Will do, Coach. See you at practice.”

Dr. Rick removes the heating pad from my knee and I lower myself onto the floor. Jack just stares at me, his lips tight.

He’s going to want answers.

And I can’t hide them from him anymore.

A few minutes later, I’m back on my crutches, hobbling out of the training room with Jack next to me. I can practically feel the steam coming out of his ears, he’s so heated.

When we’re out of earshot of the doctor, he stops in front of me and turns with a fierce glare in his eye.

“What happened to you yesterday?”

I swing my back against the cinderblock wall and lean against it. “I went to Play It Forward because I needed to get the hell out of my apartment. I was getting cabin fever.”

“But you didn’t actually make it inside, did you?” he says, his tone accusatory. “When I didn’t hear back from you after the voicemails I left, I called around. Sofia said you weren’t there. Your parents and Chase hadn’t heard from you, either. So where the hell were you? And why weren’t you answering your phone?”

I heave a deep sigh and lean my head back against the wall. “I must have shut off my ringer.”

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